Malling Antiques

There's an antique mall near my home that I visit about once a quarter or so. With the new house coming our way, I decided to check it out because 1) it had been a few months and 2) there are a few select pieces of furniture Mr. Burly and I don't have, so we're planning for those future purchases. (Product at this mall does not move too quickly, so I can go spy a piece and have a decent chance of saving for it before it is gone.) While I did find 1 item that fit the parameters we had in mind for it (just got to save now) and another that I hadn't been looking for but can be totally functional (just got to save for that, too), the better part of these trips is always the, um, "treasures."

What did I find today? (click to embiggen any picture)

1973 Playboy lifestyle guide:

More Indispensable: the space needed for cartoon tits, instead of  sizing & spacing text accordingly

Contents: I'm sad I neglected to visit "The A to Z of Sex" now. Rest assured, if the book is still there on the next visit, I will provide an update. Anyone have a letter preference?

But in case you were interested on their advice concerning sexual harassment...

You misspelled "Creepy":

Seriously, though, I have issues with infantilized things in adult situations, like wedding attire

I'm constantly reminded that I should purchase a record player in order to build an ironic vinyl collection. Would it be more ironic if I just collected terrible vinyl sans player?:

I do actually own records without a player. The one that started it?  A recording of Wonder Woman stories.

If I actually had the money to waste, why yes, yes I would put a large embroidered screaming flaming cock on my wall:

He's screaming because he's missing a toe. That, and  his general existential rage at his being.  I would name him Proust.

2 Birds, 1 Stone:

Q: How do we afford to remodel our rec room/ basement? A:  Start an illegal gambling hall in that very basement! Brilliant!

Lastly, panthers humping trees (matching floor lamps):

And they're not even excited about it. But apparently they grew bored with each other. This is why you don't open up your marriage if you can't communicate, kids. These two panthers are going to go home after this failed partner-swap experiment and have an ugly fight about who's idea it was. There will be no make-up sex, just misery and hatred and self-loathing. They'll divorce. One will turn to the bottle, the other to constant plastic surgery until no shade of its former self exists, and it is too hideous to look at. The End.

Mr. Burly: Those are....lamps?
Me: Yes, it's cut off in the picture but on top you add a bulb and a shade. Then you have matching panther-humping-tree floor lamps. But I don't know what type of shade you'd put on those...
Mr. Burly: Leopard print.
Me: Now that's just offensive to the panthers.
Mr. Burly: But...where would they even...There's no where to put those things!
Me: Flanking the front door. Duh.
Mr. Burly: Oh God...

(Don't worry friends, those entering the new house will still be greeted by Bucephalus and not some sad dendrophiliac panthers)