Pantalaine Family Store in South Bend Indiana is my new Disneyland. They pulled me in with the
Couch Dress, and the resulting ten or so minutes felt like a few worth sharing.
The Palantine Family will customize a dress out of as many afghans as it takes to cover whatever size seating unit you toss their way.
Not only that, but they let you pick two flower broaches that are probably smaller than the dress. I bet you didn't even know that you needed one flower broach, but you probably do, and this is your chance to get two.
I know that you're looking at the price tag thinking that it may just be the best deal you've seen on yarn in a while. You are savy, and I am intuitive. The overall value will melt your skull if you consider the broaches and inevitably hilarious fitting session!
I'm crossing my fingers for the possibility of the matching hooded shawl that will dance across my mind's eye as I drift to sleep yearning for a scratchy cumbersome accessory.
Truth be told, this
Wind Up Dress Up scares me a little more than the Couch Dress did. The picture reads like an awkward before and after, and evokes feelings not dissimilar to those delivered by the
Grady twins. Infer with me, if you will.
Two pathetically sad sisters work in a sweatshop knitting couch dresses in the tool shed next to their ranch home and inflatable pool. The eldest sister, Candace probably, keeps a stiff upper lip so that little Misty is lulled into a sense of false security.
One day, daddy comes home with his newest design! He's dubbed it his "Double Princess Fantasy Dress" and waves it infront of the girls, still grubby from a hard day's work. Some day they will look back upon the iridescent fairy dress. They will remember spinning around until they got dizzy, and holding onto each other in futile attempts not to fall.
They will remember the day that dress-up turned on them. Maybe next year they'll get out of the fast paced fashion industry and start a lemonade stand; bring it back to their entrepreneurial roots.
At this point I'm hooked and need to know what other amazing consumer goods I have been missing out on. Quite frankly, I'm mentally invested in this rag tag mom and pop joint.
If you're still reading, than you are too. There's only one thing to do; let's keep browsing.
I have no idea what is so super about these
Super Sweats, or why there are random sleeves attached to one pant leg. Maybe this was a bad idea.
I'm pretty sure the girl with the butt sleeve didn't want to put her hand all the way in there. She's smart. She probably knew this was going to make its way onto the internet, given the lavish nature of the photo shoot.
Everyone looks happy and comfortable (is there some sort of text color that should be used to indicate sarcasm?). The jig is up. It's clear that they were hoping the sea foam green cans were going to sell the crap out of some very odd touchy pants.
What the duck sauce is going on in each and every picture? I clicked further and it hit me. This site is dedicated to selling clothes that are attached to other things. Usually other items of identical clothing, but sometimes couches. There are pajamas designed to facilitate a serious ass kicking via some sort of pillow tail aberration, and polo shirts to cement the already strong lefty solidarity.
Some designs are so quintessentially emo that I want to dig out my horn rimmed glasses, but then I remember how old their prescription is and doubt that its a match for my macbook. It sounds like a one way ticket to migraine city, and I'd rather squint at pictures of shoes that force you to walk like the Monkees or protect your toes during a spicy salsa (wait for it...).
There are pants that allow you to strap a child to the side of your leg, something I had never considered. Think of how much you'd save on a stroller! I'm sure the constant rocking of pops walking lulls the little tike directly into la la land while you are free to pass go and collect that $200.
If you have a few minutes, browse through
their site. I found myself a bit more than bemused.
They've been selling this original gem since 1959 (I'm holding out for vintage and banking on eBay).
"To make the pencil sculptures, I take hundreds of pencils, cut them into 1-inch sections, drill a hole in each section (to turn them into beads), sharpen them all and sew them together.
The Palantine Family will customize a dress out of as many afghans as it takes to cover whatever size seating unit you toss their way. 
Truth be told, this Wind Up Dress Up scares me a little more than the Couch Dress did. The picture reads like an awkward before and after, and evokes feelings not dissimilar to those delivered by the Grady twins. Infer with me, if you will. 
What the duck sauce is going on in each and every picture? I clicked further and it hit me. This site is dedicated to selling clothes that are attached to other things. Usually other items of identical clothing, but sometimes couches. There are pajamas designed to facilitate a serious ass kicking via some sort of pillow tail aberration, and polo shirts to cement the already strong lefty solidarity. 
Some designs are so quintessentially emo that I want to dig out my horn rimmed glasses, but then I remember how old their prescription is and doubt that its a match for my macbook. It sounds like a one way ticket to migraine city, and I'd rather squint at pictures of shoes that force you to walk like the Monkees or protect your toes during a spicy salsa (wait for it...).
There are pants that allow you to strap a child to the side of your leg, something I had never considered. Think of how much you'd save on a stroller! I'm sure the constant rocking of pops walking lulls the little tike directly into la la land while you are free to pass go and collect that $200. 
To call Dynamite Chicken revolutionary is to do a disservice to the true revolutionaries of the era, many of whom coincidentally appear in the film (however posthumously; as was the case with Lenny Bruce and Malcolm X). During its conception, it required significant effort to cull such diverse voices and images to create an entertaining yet critical take on the status quo, and the resulting film stands as a worthy artifact of the era. 
The material is built for short attention spans (ala the tuned-in turned-on crowd), and the visual freak-outs begin right about the time the drugs would kick in. Psychedelic concert footage (of Sha Na Na, believe it or not) is intercut with old movie clips (e.g., Victor Mature in Samson and Delilah) and seemingly endless footage of naked curvaceous hippies dancing or doing calisthenics (If closeups of the mons pubis is your thing, this is the film for you.). This is supplemented with moments of agit-prop and pop-art; man-on-the-street interviews with toothless patriots talking about the flag, Andy Warhol recording Ondine reading from Warhol's novel a, some Frank Lauria poetry and jazz, and some creepy footage and interviews with workers at one of the first Burger King restaurants that would fit very nicely into Fast Food Nation.
