Remember, there are only 147 shopping days left until christmas.
The mountains near Denver are damned beautiful.
But then again, it's all in how you look at them.
up skirt / down pants
Hey folks, Nick from Square America here- Ron will be back tomorrow so this is my last post at bighappyfunhouse and I figured what could be better than some hot upskirt action (along with a little something extra for the ladies!). Enjoy!
Hey everybody, Nick from Square America here. I'll be filling in for Ron for a few days. I thought I'd start you off with a photo postcard from a true renaissance man.
I'm getting out of dodge for a couple of days. Going up to the mountains outside of Denver. Nick from Square America will be filling in for me until I get back on Tuesday.
See yall later!
We went to zayre
When I was growing up, money was tight. Going to the barber was something we really couldn't afford. We got our haircuts in the kitchen at home, just like the pic above. My mom would don her smock - get out the "good scissors" - wrap me in a giant bib and hack away at my head. Mom had two basic styles which she had mastered. The Bowl and The Tard . I didn't name them. These were names the kids at school had for the different haircuts. You'd show up at school and the first kid who saw you would smirk and say "Nice bowl" or "Hey, look at the tard". (You usually had to insult him back in some way or another just to keep things even or risk further abuse.)
After a few years of practice, mom started adding creative touches to her stylings. Instead of a straight bowl cut, she'd add the Spock vulcan curve to your bowl cut. This haircut would inspire some truly creative insults from your classmates. I actually got suspended from school for fighting when my friend Mike wouldn't let up about my Spock haircut.
As humiliating as the Spock was, it was nothing compared to the Zayre haircut.
Zayre was an ultra discount 1970s department store. It was like a dollar store on steroids. These were the pre-Walmart days. Zayre was king. There were tons of odd, wholesale products dumped at Zayre. As a kid, going to there was a blast. There was always some cheap crappy thing you could con your parents into buying for you. You'd come back to the neighborhood with your load of strange off-brand toys and explain to the other kids " We went to Zayre ! ".
One day, mom dragged my sister and I to Zayre so we could buy new pair of scissors. We had to buy new ones beacuse I ruined the old scissors trying to perform an amputation on my sisters Barbie doll. (boy, did I catch hell for that one) On the drive there, she was telling us about a new haircut she read about in a magazine. She seemed excited about getting to "try to out" on me. Up until then, I was fine with getting a haircut. That was, until I heard the words "try it out". That was a major red flag when dealing with my mom. "Try it out" usually meant you about to be the guinea pig in some horrible experiment. God only knew what would happen to you but it was never good. As I thought about it more, I started to get a bad feeling about the haircut. What the hell kind of haircut was I in for and how could I get out of it?
We walked in under the giant orange Zayre sign and mom headed straight for the hair care section. My sister ran ahead of us. She always wanted to be first everywhere we went. As mom and I walked up, my sister was standing in front of a big orange sign that said "Space Age Hair Cutting System". My sister was holding a round plastic disc in her hands. She looked up and said "What's this mom?". Mom picked one up and looked closer. It looked like a small flying saucer with a tiny razor blade inside. The box said "Cuts Hair In Half the Time". A light bulb went off in my head. I saw this as my way out of the "try it out" haircut my mom had planned for me. I said the magic words that my mother couldn't resist.
"Look mom, they're on sale"
She didn't resist. Mom bought two of the Space Age Hair Cutting Discs. The scissors were long forgotten. Mom was so happy she'd saved some money, my sis and I each got to ride the 25 cent mechanical horse in front of Zayre.
Later that night, mom sat me down in the kitchen for my Space Age Zayre haircut. She read the instructions on the box while I fidgeted in the chair. That damned bib was itching my neck and I wanted her to hurry up so I could go play. Finally it was time to start. She held out the first length of my hair and pressed the disc onto it. I saw a clump of hair fall past my eyes. A big clump. A really really big clump. I heard mom say "boy, these are sharp". I knew I was in trouble.
I got hacked. Worse than hacked. My hair was sticking out all over the place. I looked like I just escaped from the looney bin. It was the worst haircut I ever received in my life. I know mom tried her best, but those discs were designed by the devil himself. They were pure evil.
I showed up at school the next day expecting the worst from my friends. The first one I saw was Mike. He just looked at me with his mouth open. No wise ass comment, just a shocked stare. I wanted him to say something, anything just to get it over with. He finally said slowly
"What the hell happened to you?"
I just shook my head and said "We went to Zayre."
I know it can't be true,
but I like to think these kids are singing along to Black Sabbath "Iron Man".
Rove and McClellan
The amazing Nick Osborne has a new site featuring vernacular photography.
It's called Square America
I highly recommend it.
Special for Mr. Ron
Earlier this year I mentioned "upskirt" in one of my posts. For some reason this caused Google to pick me up as a site featuring upskirt photos. For awhile there I was in the top ten for "upskirt photos". I was the upskirt king of Chicago. I was filled with pride. Thursday night I was out with some friends and the subject came up. I explained how the referer logs for Bighappy were full of searches for 'hot upskirt action" and "upskirt + photo + pantyhose". I was actually getting some heavy traffic from the upskirt fans. We all had a good laugh about the pervs who came to Bighappy looking for hot hot hot upskirt action and left with a limp erection.
The next day I got a call to go look at a house in the suburbs. The gentleman who owned the house had passed away and the family was settling up the estate. They had some antiques to sell but they also wanted to get rid of everything inside the house. After a bit of haggling, we agreed on a price. They needed it done fast so we scheduled the job to start the next day
In the morning, I came back with the big truck and my two Polish helpers, Stanley and Mark. The sister of the man who had died was waiting for me on the front porch. She handed me the keys to the house and said "Let me know if you find anything interesting." I looked at her with a puzzled expression. She just winked at me and walked off to her car. "Well that was strange" I thought. I knew the family had gone through his belongings looking for important papers and records. Maybe they saw something interesting while they looked around.
The two helpers I brought with were great workers. We had most of the house packed up by early afternoon. All we had to do was load it all onto the truck. We decided to break for lunch. I bought the guys some grub and we sat on the front porch to eat. The sister came back to see how we were doing. "Find anything interesting?" she asked me with a smile. "Not yet" I told her (still puzzled by what she meant). She said she had some errands to run and would be back about 5:00 to lock the house up.
The guys were loading the truck with the last boxes. There was one small box sitting in the corner of the living room. Stanley walked into the room and pointed at the box. "That one for you" he said in broken english. Whenever the guys do this it's usually a box of porn, a dildo or something else obnoxious they've found in the house. I walked over to the box and opened the top to find it was full of photos....upskirt photos. Lots and lots of upskirt photos. Yes, hot hot hot upskirt action. I looked back at Stanley and Mark and they were both laughing like hell. "Special for Mr Ron" said Mark. "Where did you find all of this?" I asked. "In bedroom." said Stanley.
I took the box and loaded it into the back of the truck. I was now the proud owner of over 500 upskirt photos. Apparently the gentleman who owned the house sent off responses to ads in the back of magazines. After sending the ladies money, he received a hand written letter and a bunch of upskirt photos. He was quite the collector. The pic above was the first one I saw when I opened the box.
The sister came back at 5:00 as promised. As I handed her back the keys I said "We found something interesting". She smiled and said "I thought you would. My brother, he was something else huh?"
What the heck is that doll next to the cake??
When I was ten, I had a bike just like that one in the photo. Mine was red and had a tiger stripe banana seat. It was the coolest thing I ever owned. I loved that bike. The first day I got the bike, I rode it all day long. I got my friend Jerry and a group of other guys together and we spent the day riding around on our bikes.
Damn, I was happy.
I was so happy I wanted to catch some air. Jumping with your bike was a neighborhood tradition. You'd pretend you were Evil Kneivel and jump anything you could. If you had a new bike you had to see how it would catch air. Any bike could ride but a great bike could fly. You always wanted your first jump to be a good one. Everyone would be watching. A crappy first jump and you'd never hear the end of it. As we rode, I was keeping my eye out for a dirt hill or a ditch to jump when I found something even better.
We were riding in an alley when I saw a pile of bricks next to a bunch of crappy old boards. I told the guys "hey wait up a minute". I got off the bike and started stacking the bricks into a pile. I then took the longest board I could find and finished my ramp. I stood back to inspect my construction. It looked good. It looked strong. I looked up at the guys and nodded.
It was time. The new bikes first jump.
I pedaled up the alley and turned to face the ramp. I stopped and raised one fist into the air just like Evil Kneivel. I was ready. There was no turning back. I pedaled as fast as I could towards that ramp. The guys were yelling "go man go". As my front tire hit the board I heard a loud crraaaack. All I remember thinking was "Oh shit". The board broke and my bike slammed into the pile of bricks. I slid off the seat and my family jewels slammed into the big shifter on the frame.
As I lay on the ground in agony, one of my frinds said "Oh man, he got racked". Through the waves of pain I could hear them whispering to each other.... Every other word was" racked". I looked up at my friend Jerry. He was looking down at me like he was a doctor telling a patient some very bad news. He spoke slowly and clearly so I would understand.
"Dude, you got racked" he said.
I had to hear about how bad I "got racked" for a week or two until Jerry got beat up by his sister. Thank god for that distraction. If one more person asked me "how yer nuts doin" I was gonna scream.
Even though I got racked
I still loved that bike