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  1. TRC – Day 1

    May 3, 2013 by Harmony

    I’ve learned I’m a god-damned wuss.

    I managed to bench myself this morning while working out – a little extra force on a weak muscle and POW! I’m laying on the couch and whining about getting old. Of course, the only reason I hurt this much is because of the Retro Challenge….

    The first morning, I was a whirlwind of kitschy fabulous. I got up at five-thirty in the morning (go me!) and set about my checklist.

    1) Make yourself a little pretty for your husband.

    Ok, it’s nothing fancy – advice of the day merely suggested putting on a pretty house coat, smoothing your hair, and splashing cold water on your cheeks to ‘wake up’ your complexion. I did it, although the BBHM had already left for work that morning, because I thought it would help set the tone for my day. Incidentally, I also got to skip #’s 2-4 (make coffee, breakfast, and husband’s lunch).

    5) Ditch the plastic/appliances.

    I had rounded most of it up the night before, putting it all in a plastic bag where it would live for the next month. I was just going to move it to a closet….wait a minute. Where’s the bag? I wandered around the kitchen, padded out to the dining room, into the bedroom. Nothing. Nada. The fuck?

    Riiiiing.

    BBHM: Hey, honey! How’s your little experiment going?

    Me: Okay. So, um, did you see a plastic bag in the corner of the kitchen?

    BBHM: Yeah – I took it out.

    Me: Out? Like threw it away out?

    BBHM: I’m starting to get the feeling that wasn’t trash.

    Me: You are correct, sir (In a gawdawful Ed McMahon voice).

     

    Well, hell. I rather liked my Iced Tea Pot! So long, old friend.

    Ok – next up was my workout. Yes: vintage gals were instructed/expected to do exercise in the morning. I found this surprising, but went ahead with it. I did not do the typical workout of the time, just popped in good old Jillian Michaels and whimpered feebly back at the T.V. screen. (“Aww! Are you gonna cry? Huh?” “Yes, Jillian - I am.”) Knowing she couldn’t hear was somehow comforting, because the insults I was spewing at her image were the sort of thing she would have kicked my ass for.

    7) Makeup your face.

    Having showered and my complexion returned to a shade other than “over-exerted beet face” I studied myself in the mirror.

    Sigh.

    True to life makeup would have been mascara and lipstick. No mas. No smoky brown shadow? No winged liner? No pop of red at my cheeks? Daytime red lipstick?  No foundation?!? I was getting clammy palms just at the thought of this. See – I already do the retro rockabilly thing, but I stick to the fifties (the dresses are so much better looking on me) – where foundation, winged liner and eyeshadow was the norm for daytime.

    Oh, what a difference sliding back one decade makes!

    I cheated, somewhat. I smeared on tinted moisturizer for the spf factor and had to shade my lids with a skin tone eyeshadow (I have veiny eyelids. I’m a ginger – what do you expect?) Light coat of mascara, muted red lipstick. Although I never took a ton of time on my makeup – I have it down pat by now – I must say the revised routine took all of thirty-two seconds. Kinda refreshing. Other than the fact I think I look weird as hell like this.

    On to the errands!

    Ordinarily, the lady would have done errands in the afternoon after completing her housework. Living in Phoenix, you know this is the time of day to bury yourself in the comforts of central air because it is balls hot out at that time. Yes, even on the first of May. Therefore, I felt reasonably justified in making this switch.

    Seeing as I’ve already crossed over to the dark side (many thanks to She Rides a Bike for showing me it is possible in Phoenix), the fact old girl likely did all this via human power (her hubby took the car to work, don’t you know?) wasn’t as daunting as it could have been. I climbed on my sexy, sexy bike and set out.

    Damn the city of Mesa for their ridiculous bike paths that just terminate in the middle of a route, and damn them for construction that never does a thing. A seven mile trip turned into a three hour endurance trial. At least I got some pretty material for a pretty dress (more on that to come).

    Back home, I began the cleaning ritual. Sweeping, vacuuming, washing dishes by hand and drying them….

    By five in the evening I was still laden with chores and I was beat to hell. I was also starving, but I couldn’t eat because ladies didn’t snack. I called Grandma Blue:

    GB: Hi, love! (her British accent is just adorable!)

    Me: Grandma – I’m sorry!

    GB: What?

    Me: I’m not even finished with the first day of my experiment, and I’m exhausted and starving! How were you not worshipped like a goddess? This is awful! How did you do it all? Really – what happens when I try this in heels?! I’m going to die!

    GB: (holding back laughter): Did you scrub the floors by hand?

    Me: Yes.

    GB: Remember, we also had to beat the mattresses and rugs once a week. Don’t forget to do that. We also didn’t sit down until our men got home, because it was a sign of laziness. (I think she’s laying it on thick to mess with me. Please let that be true)

    Me:….ok.

    GB: You’re starving? You’re not supposed to be starving. Did you skip tea? (I should point out that this is referring to the custom, not the beverage)

    Me: I haven’t had tea in ages, Grandma. Besides, women couldn’t snack. You told me that!

    GB: I know, but it wasn’t considered a snack. It was considered a proper meal.

    Me: Ooooohhhhh.

     

    Whoops. So – the meal was there to keep me fueled and prevent me overeating at dinner. Good to know. I won’t be skipping that in the future.

    By the time the BBHM got home, I was so excited to see him. Granted, I think most of my enthusiasm was because I could just sit down. Oh, was it glorious.

     

     

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  2. The Retro Challenge!

    April 29, 2013 by Harmony

    So – it all started with an innocent little change. Let me ride my bicycle instead of driving everywhere.

    My Grandma Blue did it back in England – she didn’t even have a car there. I figured since Grandma does it better, it was a simple thing to do. One little innocent change to have me closer to the past I know and love.

    It didn’t stop there, though. You see, when I committed to only driving my car when there was literally no other option, I noticed something. I no longer needed to go to these places. It was amazing how quickly you can go from “I’ll just run and grab that milk I forgot when I was shopping,” to “Well, we are out of milk. Too damn bad, because I’m not going back out today.” Guess what? We lived without the damned milk – unscathed. You know what else we lived without? The package of mints or gum or crackers or something that would have been grabbed along with aforementioned milk.

    Crikey – I think I’m on to something. I have an idea!

    Source

    Now – I already bake my own bread and make jelly and shit like that, but seriously? How can I, aficionado of the past, not be trying this on a real, practical basis?

    I read an interesting blog chronicling a Fifties Housewife Experiment. I myself am a retro rockabilly girl…

    Like two college kids at a Spring Break beach party, these thoughts careened into each other, groping and fumbling with drunken, awkward fervor until something exploded. And what an explosion, indeed.

    I present the Retro Challenge. This goes further than the Housewife Experiment, because - for one -I’m not a housewife, and secondly, I’m applying it as much as I can to with the actual items and products within my home (read: entirely removing or replacing what is inappropriate – within limits). Armed with information from Grandma Blue and Grandma Red (and no, I’m not calling them that for the sake of anonymity – my brother and I color-coded our grandmothers as small children and have called them that ever since) about how they lived their lives, mid-century advertisements and texts, and a shit ton of “Mad Men,” I have gleaned (hopefully) a fair approximation of what I can and cannot get away with:

    1) I must cut back on the makeup for daily wear. Damn it! Turns out, most ladies only wore a bit of mascara and lipstick for day to day running around. That quintessential “retro” look on women? Special occasion only! Thankfully – I can still wear my trademark red lipstick, though in a more muted ‘daytime’ color. Hair was perfectly coiffed – no ponytails allowed, unless you styled it. Good thing I already know how to pincurl and style like a pro.

    2) Heels? That was standard footwear unless you worked in a factory. Those old movies and ads you see with a woman running around in heels are not the result of trying to create an ‘ideal.’ Women wore them, even while cleaning house and walking around town.

    3) Plastic? Not really. See, it was pretty damned common in the cities and the like, but I have one Grandma who lived in the country where it wasn’t as readily available. And it certainly wasn’t to be found in your normal dishes….so I’m going to be safe and ditch it.

    4) Back to Grandma Blue in the English countryside – food? You’d best preserve it in season, otherwise you didn’t have it. Small appliances? What are those? Garbage disposal, dishwasher? Fat chance.

    5) Pick yourself up a little something while out shopping? Nope. There’s a saying from back then: “Use it up, wear it out, make it do – or do without!” and boy, did they follow that. So, unless it’s a damned emergency or honest to God need – we’re not getting it. Time to drag the sewing machine out and have the BBHM have his tools at the ready.

    6) Take out? HAHAHAHA! Snacking? Nope – according to Grandma Blue, people “only ate proper meals.”  That means cooked, thank you very much. If not, it was usually some sort of arrangement of broiled organs or eggs on toast. Sandwiches didn’t really exist for her back then – oh, and that cooking was done in cast iron. Teflon pans weren’t used. Appetizers and finger foods were acceptable at tea or cocktail hour (more on that bit of awesome later).

    7) Television? Yes, although - contrary to what most people would have you believe – it wasn’t watched for just one hour after dinner. Grandma Blue says Grandad was fond of watching television, and would watch if from the time he got home until he went to bed. But that’s it – just one room, and never before the day’s work was done. Not even on weekends. Music, however, would be played all the time. To be fair, Grandma and Grandad only got a television after moving to America…but I think the BBHM might not enjoy missing ‘Storage Wars” or “Duck Dynasty,” when he gets home. Neither would I.

    8) Grocery store? Mall? Wal-mart? What are those? You got your meat from the butcher, your clothing from the department store (a stand alone building, by the way), and if you wanted a soda – you went down to Woolworth’s or the pharmacy and got it. Grandma Blue considered it a special treat, and hardly kept it in the house. You know what you drink when you are thirsty? Water (or apparently a martini – see below). To be fair, it’s pretty damned difficult to emulate that. The only produce stand I ever see is at our shoddy Mesa Farmer’s Market, and honestly they are some sorry looking veggies (think just this side of not rotten). I can’t find an independent dairy to save my life, and the high and mighty local egg farmers refuse to cease gouging - $6 per dozen eggs is just flat out fucking ridiculous. I’ll stick to the grocery store, but I’m limiting my purchases to the ‘outer loop’ and bulk sections.

    9) Some of the more fun stuff – cocktail hour! Yes!! It was customary to have a drink or two after work – a mixed drink. Something kitschy and fabulous like a martini, old-fashioned, or something on the rocks or with tonic! Oh, and that was before the glass of wine with dinner, and after the lunch martini. Actually, it seems martinis were guzzled down with the same gusto as Southerners chug sweet tea. I could really dig this.

    Source

    10) Socializing! Wow! Yes, indeed – you really did get together with someone on a regular basis. Almost daily, I dare say. Nobody was stuck in the house; it was considered healthy and respectable to get out and be friendly with people. Women were almost expected to get an hour or two in of leisure during the day, although it was more like a sewing circle rather than idle chatting.

    So, with that in mind – and more I’m sure I’ll pick up on the way – I’m hitting the month-long Retro Challenge starting the first of May! I’ll post my experiments – which we know will end up in many laughable failures, don’t we?

    For the two of you who actually read this blog: hit me up with more retro ideas!

     

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  3. Hilariously Sexist Vintage Ads

    April 22, 2013 by Harmony

    Long time, no see!

    It’s been a pretty crazy few days in the Tart house. I changed employment, the BBHM got so busy he is now working almost seven days straight, and the hunt for the perfect craftsman cottage has certainly sucked up what little brain-power I have left.

    Being a woman in modern times is tough, no?

    Try being a woman in years gone by. Turns out, the marketing campaign of the day not only expected gals perfect, polished, and docile – but they bashed women on a regular basis. Honestly, they are almost laughable in their blatant sexism (“a woman can open it?”) I can only assume it was to “keep women on their toes.” Really, if you think modern ads are sexist – just look at these little gems and try not to choke on feminist rage:

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    Is it terrible of me to laugh my ass off at this one? Honestly – I’m absolutely one of those “Here, honey – open this” type of wives.

    Source

    *strangled cough*

     

    This next one is shocking, because I didn’t think this was something even remotely mentioned back then!

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    What the hell…?

     

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    I’m pretty speechless over this one.

     

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    Oh, for fuck’s sake. Presents for the groom during a bridal shower?!

     

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    So what was the ad for Volkswagen? “Like a steadfast woman who has been broken in?” Oh, wait – here’s one of their ads:

    Source

    Sorry I asked.

    Well, at least ads never promoted violence…

    Source

    “Maybe I spoke too soon,” moment.

    Source

    Yep. Definitely spoke too soon.

     

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  4. Abraham Lincoln: the Weird and Wild

    April 11, 2013 by Harmony

    With tomorrow marking the anniversary of the beginning of the American Civil war, you can’t help but think about “Honest Abe” Lincoln. Sure, we think we know plenty about the sixteenth president, but history has buried some rather tasty nuggets of presidential goodness that you may not have heard about. Presented now, for your pleasure:

     

    Abe the Ale-Slinger

    Presidents and alcohol go hand in hand: Barrack Obama brews beer in the White House (remind me to try that recipe, by the way), George Washington owned the nation’s largest distillery, Ulysses S. Grant won the damned Civil War because he was a drunk, the list goes on and on. However, Lincoln’s stint as a bartender is often overlooked.

    Back in 1833, Lincoln partnered with his pal William Berry and opened a small store in New Salem, Illinois. The duo named their operation “Berry and Lincoln.”

    Yep, it’s still standing. Source

    Lack of provocative moniker aside, the duo should have been selling charming old-timey beverages to thirsty travellers and locals, but Berry was more interested in consuming the inventory than making a profit. Lincoln sold his share in April, though he still got stuck with the store’s debt when Berry died two years later. The debt was so large, Lincoln couldn’t pay it off until 1848.

     

    Lincoln was a real life “Incredible Hulk”

    Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter portrays the president as some sort of super-hero. Turns out, the author may have been more right than he knew. Lincoln was a big guy, there’s no mistaking that. He was also gifted with some rather enormous arms that he toned to Grecian perfection by, you know, chopping wood every day for nearly twenty years.

    I really want to read this issue. Source

    Contemporary reports having him carry loads of 1200 pounds. That, my friends, is just over half a ton. He knew how to wield that shit, too. During his first public speech, Lincoln was interrupted by a small skirmish in the crowd. Incensed, he left the podium, marched up to the antagonizing bastard, and proceeded to toss him twelve fucking feet.

    Incidentally, Lincoln won that little election; presumably because everyone was terrified this ogre would just start tossing fools for not voting for him.

    He has been posthumously awarded “Outstanding American’ from the National Wrestling Hall of Fame. I imagine somewhere, Teddy Roosevelt is pissed.

     

    Lincoln the Inventor

    Source

    See that? That’s a drawing for US Patent 6469 - “Buoying Vessels Over Shoals,” awarded to none other than Abraham Lincoln. Turns out, in addition to being the only bartending president, Lincoln is also the only president to have a patent on file. The device never became popular, although it has been cited in a number of other patents.

     

    King of the Crossover

    Forget about the bullshit “Lincoln Kennedy” coincidences you see floating all over the web.

    Lincoln was the first president to have his inauguration photographed:

    Source

    Guess who’s also in the crowd? John Wilkes Booth, for one. I’m not going to enhance the pic, primarily because I suck at that sort of thing. However, this blog has a great explanation for the photo.

    It gets better.

    Lincoln’s son, Robert, was waiting on a train platform. Losing his footing, Robert slipped and would have fallen into the path of a moving train had he not been yanked to safety by a quick-thinking good Samaritan. Who was the rescuer of the president’s son?

    This guy. Source

    Robert recognized Edwin Booth, a well-known actor, and thanked him profusely. I can hear you now – Booth, you say? I did. The president’s son was saved by his assassin’s brother. Lincoln never forgot the heroism, often citing it in writings and conversation.

    Last but not least, I have to show my favorite crossover:

    Source

    This is a famous photograph of Lincoln’s funeral procession in New York city. In the second-floor window of the building on the left, you can see two children standing there. Teddy Roosevelt is reported to be one of those children.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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  5. Grandma Did it Better – Ditching the Car

    April 4, 2013 by Harmony

    Everything old is new again! Earlier this week, I decided to leave my job to focus on my writing career. With that came a whole slew of emotions and fears – I have been holding some form of outside employment since I was a small child babysitting the neighborhood children. There was a great deal of crying, some of it in public, while I struggled to wrap my mind around dear God, what am I doing?? This eventually distilled into one singular thought process – if I was going to feel any better (read: in control) of this lack of income, I was going to have to make some lifestyle changes.

    What’s a tart to do?

    I thought of my Grandma Blue – living in Lancashire until she came to America as a young woman in the late fifties. She told me driving simply wasn’t something that was done over there, because it wasn’t a necessity to have a car. You walked, rode a bike, or took the bus, because a car was a luxury item.

    My American sensibilities were incapable of grasping this thought. Americans have been car-crazy since their invention. They are considered a status symbol, aren’t they? They are so ingrained in our way of thinking, we make inferences about the driver.

    We all know this driver is a man, and compensating for something. Source

    Admit it, if you have a carless friend, you automatically assume she’s irresponsible (DUI got her license suspended) or dirt poor. Hell, I think it – or did until earlier this week.

    Look at this – gas prices are fucking ridiculous right now. Here in Phoenix, it is pushing $4.00 a gallon.

     

    Seriously? Can cars start running on milk? Source

    Now, factor in the cost of maintenance: let’s see, $60 every few weeks for an oil change, $100 or so on tires every year (Phoenix has no idea how to maintain roads, and combined with the heat it just slays tires), maybe $150 a year per windshield (god damn it Phoenix, learn to clean and maintain your roads), and the the gas of $100 a week. Let’s not forget the mandatory insurance, registration, and emissions, either – I figured those cost $1,500 That’s not counting repairs that pop up: in the past few months, I rebuilt the engine, replaced the fuel pump and redid the air conditioning system for the low low price of $2,000. Granted, those aren’t regular expenses, but I figure each year carries it’s own set of repairs. So, it’s about $10,000 for one year.

    Uh…what? Ten thousand dollars? Luxury item is making a hell of a lot more sense. I’m in a two-car household, as well. We could approximately double that figure for the other car.

    Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know what I could do with an extra ten grand a year? Shit, what I could do with an extra five?

     

    Something like that. Source

    We were born with two legs and lungs. That’s enough to power around town. It was acceptable for the 99% of the time humans have walked the earth. Cars are only something in the last century; before that, we were human-powered. It obviously worked fine, because we saw no reason to change it for so long. I cannot believe that I did not realize sooner – Grandma was right! I don’t need the car. I’m off to the bike shop to flip OPEC the middle finger, baby!

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  6. The Bible – an informal review

    March 31, 2013 by Harmony

    It’s Easter, obviously. Time to color eggs, stuff ourselves on ham and green beans, and pretend we’re good Christians.

    What this has to do with some dead guy coming back, I’ll never know. Source

    Or, rather, most people do. I myself do not subscribe to religion. The BBHM does, however, so we are watching The Bible on the History Channel.

    I’m confused.

    For starters, if this is supposed to be the Middle East, then why is everyone so…..white? And speaking with a British accent? Allow me to demonstrate:

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    Now, I’m not a geography major, but something tells me that European people were not kicking it in the cradle of society.

    It’s also just chock full of stereotypes and glaring irregularities. Laughably so. For example, check out young Moses:

    Source

    And forty years later (by the way, what is up with the number 40 in the Bible? It’s everywhere!!)

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    Oh my God! Those years on Mount Sinai has turned a skinny Israelite into Charlton Heston!

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    They don’t even remotely try to disguise the heavy borrowing, do they?

    Or how about Samson?

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    Of course he’s black. Why? Because he has super strength, and doesn’t fall into the “mortal” category. Like the angels:

    Source

    These two were the ones who take down Sodom. I was relieved at first, even proud. Bravo, History Channel! You have an Asian angel! Is he the Voice of God, or the Angel of Death, or some healer?

    Source

     

    Nope! He’s the fucking martial artist. You dirty sons of bitches, History Channel.

     

     

     

     

     

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  7. I’m Not Dead!

    March 25, 2013 by Harmony

    Good Lord, what I would give for a reliable internet connection!

    Seriously, several calls to “tech support” – of course I unplugged and replugged the device! What the fuck do you think I’m calling you for?

    Really, is that all tech support does? “Try unplugging and replugging the device. Oh, you already did? Let me transfer you to Tier 2.” May I please have that job? Pretty please?

    Then the matter doesn’t get any better with stage 2: “What do you mean, I may need to replace the modem? It’s already been replaced twice last year. The router? We replaced them with each modem. You’re not getting a response from my modem? Of course not; the shit isn’t working. That’s why I called you!”

    Then comes the offer for a technician to come out to assess the problem. Of course, if the technician finds the equipment to be faulty, we are charged for the call. Well, we replaced the modem both times a technician came – doesn’t take a genius to see that pattern.

     

    And here I thought Paisley was the most ‘in your face pattern’ I would ever come across. Source

     

    For those of you playing along at home – I live in the Phoenix area, and I have shitty internet. That’s right – it’s Cox. Unfortunately, even with it’s unreliability - it is still a metric fuck ton better than our previous provider. Hopefully this issue will be resolved soon!

     

     

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  8. Sick Day

    March 15, 2013 by Harmony

    My last post turned out to be a bit prophetic, as I was stricken with a cold the next day. Sorry to leave my loyal six or seven readers waiting for another post.

    I must admit, I’m an absolute baby when it comes to a head cold – any sort of head pain, really. I curl up in the fetal position, crossing my arms in some ridiculous attempt to shield my body from the assault of that nasty little virus. I feel the compulsion to announce my displeasure with lots of grumbling, throaty ‘uggh’s every forty-three seconds or so. I tear through a box of tissue, mashing them into my stuffy nose with such gusto it turns red and raw within the first few hours of my symptoms. I bitch about being hot, then cold, then hot again. I sleep when I damn well feel like it.

    This is not me. She is a model who is paid to look sick, but still human. I look like a pile of quivering mucus-crusted misery. Source

    I follow every scrap of advice from every old wives’ tale. I know they aren’t true, but damn if I’m not fueled by desperation-blinded rationale. Maybe this time it’s gonna work. I mean, where else did they get the idea? Then, I go ‘uggh,’ smash a tissue against my nose, and ball myself up tighter.

    Having a cold does little for my attention span.

    At any rate, here are some of those old-timey cold remedies that are really just big steaming piles of bullshit.

     

    Clear snot is fine, colored snot is not

    Don’t you just love how I jump right into the gross shit?

    We all remember this little gem: you’re not really sick unless you have some scary-looking nose goop. I suppose this is why people have the absurd compulsion to check their hankies every single time they blow their nose. You know the drill: honk, peek, crush. You have a scoring system for what you find, rating each nasal explosion. You do it; I do it.

    The only problem is there is no correlation between your mucus color and what is causing it. A veritable rainbow of shades, from ‘yuck yellow’ to ‘gross-ass green’ can flow from your nostrils, and it doesn’t mean a damned thing. Maybe you need to drink more liquid to thin it up, maybe you actually do have a cold, maybe you have allergies, or maybe it’s just the way your sinuses work.

     

    Chicken soup for the soul

    Mom probably brought you bowl after steaming bowl of this when you were ill. Campbell’s – thank you very much. I don’t want anything other than cheapo noodles and little pink bits of what possibly contain something resembling poultry. I want a broth so salty that I need to slam a quart of water to stop my tongue from feeling like a cat made out with me after a night of binge drinking.

    Cold remedy of the gods. Source

    It doesn’t do anything magical. Sure, it does help you breathe easier and soothe your throat – but that’s a fleeting effect that could be accomplished with hot water. But, it’s a thing so ingrained in our society that cultures around the world have their own traditional chicken soup remedy. Maybe that’s why scientists keep trying to prove chicken soup is an effective treatment. Really, who wants to tell Grandma she’s been wrong?

     

     

    Vitamin C overload!

    When Mom wasn’t pouring quarts of chicken soup down your gullet, she was thrusting glasses of OJ at you and demanding you drink it down. “Vitamin C helps,” she would say while you dutifully chugalugged your glass, praying it was pulp-free this time. Why did Mom always buy the ‘contains enough pulp to remove it from the liquid classification’ variety of orange juice? Why?

    Anybody else think this tasted like Windex smelled when they were sick? Source

     

    Vitamin C doesn’t do squat for treating a cold. The only thing it’s been proven to cure is scurvy. You have been picking pulp out of your teeth for nothing.

     

    Sweat it out!

    God damn it; I believe this one with all my heart. The second I start sniffling, I reach for the most spicy food I can find, smother myself in thick blankets and jury-rig a sauna out of a towel and a bowl of hot water. Then, I triumphantly announce to everyone in earshot that my sickness is being forced out of my open, sweating pores. Take that, logic!

    Because we all know accelerating dehydration works wonders. Source

    Then I ‘uggh’ again, because it doesn’t do shit. A cold is a virus that needs to run its course, and there is nothing you can do to cook it out of your skin. Sure, bundling up and staying warm helps alleviate aches and may make you mentally feel better, but insofar as shortening it? Negative.

     

     

     

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  9. Mummies as Medicine: The Bizarre History of Iatric Cannibalism

    March 9, 2013 by Harmony

    I was talking to a friend of mine named Alka. Yes, that is her name. No, you may not crack jokes about it. I promise you, she has heard them all and has some of her own that are much, much funnier. She mentioned that, in addition to being a fan of my blog (thank you, by the way!) she had only just learned of the bath salt induced zombie epidemic of last year.

    Popular show, or gritty documentary? Source

    So, I decide to do a little digging on this phenomena I have dubbed “Holy shit! He just ate that dude’s fucking face off!” I turn to the old interwebs, type in “the history of people eating other people’s faces off” (no, really) and watched the magic unfold. I often wonder if the FBI has some sort of alert on me from all the bizarre Google searches.

    “Sir, we have another search for disturbing…oh. Never mind, it’s that Strawberry Tart person again.” Source

    I found something way better: Medical (or Iatric) Cannibalism.

    No, you idiot stoner. Cannibalism. Source

    There’s always been a fascination with using ‘essences’ from bodies to produce an effect in the human body. For example, the Maasai warriors of Africa consume fresh bull blood for vitality, while Chinese culture recommends tiger penis soup as a cure for erectile dysfunction. Even now, on an episode of the widely popular Duck Dynasty, Miss Kay says “squirrel brains will make you smart.”

    Belief does not equal fact. Source

    Making the jump from animal to human is nothing more than logical progression. In Ancient Rome, people drank the blood of ”slain gladiators to absorb the vitality of strong young men.” Obviously, nobody thought to mention that these were the strong young men with a tendency to lose. Now, I’m not saying that there’s any truth in this, but Rome did fall. Like a defeated gladiator.

    Starting around the eleventh century, mummies were harvested and ground into a powdered remedy, reputed to cure everything from blood clots to menstrual cramps. Mummy harvesting got so bad, there was a shortage of them in the 1600′s. What’s a superstitious physician to do? Why, turn to the recently deceased!

    This is when things start getting really weird. You know, because this has been relatively normal discourse up till this point.

    Human fat was rendered into a soothing balm for gout. King Charles II allegedly paid 6,000 pounds for a recipe for distilled human skull, which he dubbed “The King’s Drops.” Pope Innocent VIII drank the blood of three young boys in an attempt to prolong his dwindling life. Queen Elizabeth tried to save her bad teeth by rubbing them with a corpse tooth. Public executions were often filled with people clamoring to get a scrap of blood-soaked cloth to take home to an ailing relative. The thought was that a violent death preserved the essence of life better than a slow, prolonged one.

    Hell, even things that touched the dead were considered remedies. The moss that grew over a human skull – Usnea (which is still the name for homeopathic moss remedies) was used to stop bleeding.

    Here’s the thing: some of these remedies probably worked. Think about this for a moment – most people were poor, and meat (read: an iron-rich food) was difficult to attain. Blood, being rich in iron, would invigorate someone suffering from iron-deficient anemia. When you have a sore joint, rubbing it makes it feel better. Moss is often used as surgical dressing because it works.

    Thank goodness acceptable cannibalism died out a few hundred years ago. Right? Right?

    Well…

    “Hello, Clarice.” Source

    Yep – it’s still happening. The chickenpox and Rubella vaccines known as Varivax and Maruvax II, respectively, were made from surgically aborted fetuses. In Tanzania, albinos are hiding from more than just the blazing African sun, because witch doctors are killing and dismembering them for use in potions they claim increase wealth. In 2012, Korean customs seized pills from the Northeastern region of China that contained “dead babies whose bodies were chopped into small pieces and dried on stoves before being turned into powder.” Well, obviously you have to use dead babies – the live ones squirm too much. Duh.

    Pacific Islanders, feminists and some new moms eat placenta. They argue it helps alleviate postpartum depression and increases breast milk production. As an interesting side note – vegans are okay with eating it, because “no animal suffered for the meat.”

    But honey is off-limits?!? Source

    Hey, Vegans, I know someone who wants to punch you in the face for that comment. Like every woman who has ever given birth.

    I must close this article by thanking Alka for giving me a ticket for this train of thought. Swimsuit season looms and I will be looking glorious and thin, because I don’t think I can ever fucking eat again.

    Source

    Placenta sandwich. Misery loves company.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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  10. Allegra and Claritin and Zyrtec, oh my!

    March 7, 2013 by Harmony

    Yeah – it’s allergy season in the Phoenix area! Anyone who suffers with seasonal allergies knows the joys associated with this time of year: the poofy eyes that feel as though some vicious little bedtime troll replaced the backs of your eyelids with sandpaper (no, I’m not crying; thank you very much!), the puffy nose that likes to pound against the sides of your face with an alarming regularity, the dry spot in your throat that tries to nonchalantly choke you as you go about your day. Someone pass the Claritin.

    Just make it stop. Source

    I never suffered allergies until I moved here. It’s not surprising, Phoenix is listed as the worst southwestern city for allergies. What is surprising is that our allergies are so bad, there’s actually a term for them – Arizona nose. Incidentally, I have not found anything regarding (insert state or region here) nose, so that leads me to believe we have our own hellacious brand of allergen-induced misery.

    The hilarious part of this is that – once upon a time – Arizona was a haven for health reasons. Doctors from all across the country would send anyone with respiratory ailments into the hot, dry climate of the taint of America Valley of the Sun. Sanitariums were prolific as people sought refuge from allergies, asthma and tuberculosis. I’ve even found mention of Phoenix being touted as a respiratory reprieve as late as the 1970′s.

    Hooray! We’re actually known for something other than being balls-hot! Source

    So, what the hell happened?

    People got nostalgic, that’s what. Let’s say you’re a homesteader from Illinois who has been told to seek the dry air of Phoenix as a health treatment. Sure, you’re breathing a little easier, but it’s just so…barren in Phoenix. You decide the next time to visit to bring one of those petunias or daisies or whatever those things are that can only survive in places that don’t get above 176 degrees by noon. Maybe you keep it in a pot in your home to protect it from the direct sunlight. Maybe it survives. Maybe you plant it. Congratulations, you have successfully transplanted something that was likely triggering your respiratory problems in the first place! And it has evolved to survive and thrive!

    Hell, just googling the local nurseries shows a wealth of non-native plants that are popular. You know why they are popular? Because people keep fucking planting them. Then they wonder why they are going through tissue faster than a flat-chested Miss America contestant. Oh, well. Chin up, Phoenix! It helps keep the drainage from leaking out your nose while you search for a tissue.

     

     

     

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