Happiness, Lions and Bad Wigs

A few things have been on my mind as of late. One, I realized last week that I'm humming again. It's something I've done since childhood, and though it may not seem a big deal to you all, it's absence a few months back was an indicator of my stress level which was, well, ludicrously high.

I'm never the first to notice my humming because apparently, while it drives people a tad mad (as it turns out), I do it subconsciously. Honestly, I probably spend a good couple hours a day doing it and have no clue unless someone points it out to me. Usually, they are songs that no one in their right mind would want to hear, like those from the musical Wicked or one of those Maroon 5 tunes that no matter how bad and whiny, still manage to burrow itself into your brain like a tick nearly starved to death. Damn you, Adam Levine!

When I caught myself humming last week, I suddenly realized it was the first time in a long time that I felt immensely happy. Immensely wonderful. Immensely filled with joy. And it felt so great to recognize it.

In continuing this trend toward all things happy, I wanted to share something I found through StumbleUpon last week that did perpetuate those feel-good feelings (although, if I'm being honest, and we try to tell the truth here on RISD, it was really more shock than happiness). It was a series of photos showcased on this blog that Life magazine published in the 1970's about a family who had a pet lion. I haven't been able to find the accompanying text, but this is some truly crazy stuff.

"Omigod, Tricia, remember that time we stayed up ALL NIGHT
and ate an entire quart of ice cream?!"

I think most children would be horrified to have a lion nibbling on their back.
I would hope they would also be terrified of this boy's bowl cut. To each their own, I suppose.

"Bitch, please!"

"I don't know why you bother to depress yourself with the news, honestly."

I originally thought this woman was wearing a lion-inspired vest. No joke.

"You'll never get Olympic gold if you don't tuck your damn feet together!"

"I totally forgot about that! Wanna eat popcorn and do each others' nails?!"

"I told you those polka dots make you look fat. And delicious."

"You should really get the gap between your teeth looked at."

"But you said we'd go to the park! You said!"

I hope this housekeeper was paid well.

"I think my mane would make an excellent wig. What do you think?"

This last photo comment brings me to my next order of business: Kristy Swanson's shiteous wig in Flowers in the Attic, for you see friends, having a wig made from lion hair is a big no-no.

Have you seen this movie? Read this book? It is all kinds of crazy. I rewatched it this weekend and have not stopped thinking of this raggedy mop they threw on her head halfway through the movie. Is it supposed to look like real hair? I'd be crying too, Kristy!

Aside from looking like it was made from the shorn fur of an anemic lion, the only other thing it reminds me of is a "Bashful" Dwarf doll I had as a kid that was rubber except for the nice pile of "hair" that was essentially one long rasta dread that smelled of cigarettes.

And I think we can all agree this wig surely reeked of cigarettes.

May your Tuesday be filled with happiness, friendly lions and passable wigs. Namaste.