I DUB THEE...

In honor of brilliant illustrator and etsy shop queen Jamie T's suggestion that I have a weekly dubbing on my blog, I proclaim Saturday, Dub Day.

And on this first Dubbing Saturday, for softening a certain gamma ray poisoned green hunk's hunkiness,

I dub thee, Jamie T, aka CocoaStomp:

The Effeminator.

Live long and illustrate.

And here of course is The Effeminator's response: I ask you, is there nothing sacred? Surely she wouldn't effeminate a manly pink box of Raspberry Ginger cereal called Peace. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

Yep, she did. And check out her video. Obviously, I am dealing with a more clever mind than my

own.

The wagon that has America singing!

I'd like to introduce all of you to an American classic. This chick-magnet is guaranteed to get you a date from any classy circa 1976 gal. What feathered-hair hottie could resist those faux-wood, side panels and that puke, olive-green sheen?

Too much crappola to fit in the spacious hatchback? No problemo, tie it on top like a pro.

Yes folks, welcome to a Watson flashback, the Plymouth Volare.

Now just imagine many, MANY, semi-annual, cross-country trips with two exhausted adults, three fighting kids, and one mammoth dog, Frodo, who was some kind of cross between a boarhound, German Shepherd, Great Dane, a little Saint Bernard maybe and of course Dinosaur, and you'll get the general gist. Of course our "little" Frodo had a drooling problem and would get a bit warm nestled in all our luggage (that wasn't tied on top of the roof) driving through Southern California, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas and Kansas in the middle of summer. His drool would slide down those faux-leather green seats to our necks and backs.

We were the Griswalds. And we really drove in the nearest thing to the Family Truckster.

How my parent's marriage survived those family vacations I'll never know, nor how they didn't leave one (or all) of us at one of the secluded, tumbleweed-lined rest stops.

I'm glad they didn't because I'm putting our lima-bean green, wood-paneled Volare in my story. In memorial of all the car sickness and family times that brought us SO close together.

Here's a link to a volare station wagon commercial. I love reading the comments underneath, especially the last one:

"I had a '77 non-wagon for my first car. Terrible car. Still miss it. Kind of like my first girlfriend. Terrible person. Still miss her."