Cool Where Will I Find Love Quiz images
A few nice where will i find love quiz images I found:
Walking The Tender Minefield – Quiz Night
Image by Boogies with Fish
www.messersmith.name/wordpress/2010/11/29/walking-the-ten…
After my last post, all cheery and grateful, I’m ahead far enough on happy credits to grow all sombre and introspective again. Today I took delivery of a lonely, stormy Sunday. Last night I attended the annual Country Women’s Association Quiz night, a sort of mega-Trivial Pursuit distraction which provides the folk of Madang with an evening of aimless and good natured competition.
Since this is going to be yet another soul-searching ramble through the back alleys of my cranium, let me first demonstrate that I am not in a bad mood at all. These are among the finest bananas I have ever had the pleasure of smushing up in my still toothy gob. Somebody brought them up to the beach at Blueblood a couple of weeks ago. I must have eaten about six of them. As you can see they are rather small. They are incredibly sweet and the flavour is slightly reminiscent of green apples:
See, that’s a happy thing. You may find little flakes of freeze-dried happiness elsewhere on this page. Let’s see what happens. I’m winging it.
As I plan to intersperse scenes from last night’s frivolities here and there as I plod along, I may as well get started. This is our intrepid QuizMaster, Shane McCarthy overseeing the presentation of the craft projects. Each table of six participants was required, on pain of merciless ridicule, to create an object d’art from the miscellaneous contents of a cardboard box. Imaginations ran rampant on the theme of "Christmas Carol":
Once again I found myself facing a dilemma, the magnitude of which might seem trivial when seen from some remote location outside my skull. Over and over again, because of my life situation, smack dab in the middle of everything which meant anything to us, I have to decide if I’m going to do this or that and wonder what my reaction is going to be. The problem is that there is no more us. There is just me. The range of effects which I have experienced has fallen between the extremes of euphoria and despair. I honestly don’t know beforehand what is going to happen. I’m just along for the ride.
This is a tender minefield. While that expression may seem an oxymoronic, it is not. All that is happening here is that my community is allowing me the freedom to find a new normality. People are treating me as if everything is business as usual. This is exactly what they ought to do. The minefield is of my own device.
I had waited for an invitation to a table at Quiz Night until I felt that I had to take some active part in my life once more. Two days before the event I called two friends asking, in a not-so-transparent manner, if they had a table and if it was filled. Later that day, I did receive an invitation, after I mentioned it, from another friend. So, committed as I am to allowing life to carry me where it will with as little interference from me as is prudent, I accepted with a mixture of gratitude and foreboding. I’m such a drama queen. Everything has to be a big production. Nothing is easy. Truthfully, I blame my mother, but don’t tell her.
It is a minefield, but it bears me no malice. It is simply there, inert until provoked. If I stay in place, I won’t get anywhere. I’ll stand and take root in this miserable existence. I can walk gingerly, experimentally, but I know that the odds are against me. I’ve already stepped on a few and I have big chunks missing here and there. The wounds are painful, but they heal rapidly, some more rapidly than others.
There is fun aplenty at every Quiz Night. Ridiculous, giggly fun. Here three teams compete to determine which can most rapidly expend an entire roll of toilet paper by wrapping a team-mate in it:
Following the analogy of the minefield, I’ll tell you a true story (really) about a related metaphor, The Point of No Return.
When you note that you have reached the geometrical centre of the minefield and you count your injuries, it dawns on you that you are only half-way home. Injury-wise it might make more sense to retrace your steps and return to GO, not collecting 0. Yet that way lies the madness of arriving back at the beginning and realising that the only reasonably safe option is to once again retrace your footsteps back to the point at which you turned around and proceed from there. You could have done that without wasting energy. Rational decisions at this point are extremely difficult to reach.
Late one Sunday afternoon in the early ’70s, I roared away from Chicago Midway Airport in a US Army UH-1 "Huey" helicopter with my crew of four en-route to Decatur Illinois, our home airfield. It was a late departure and each of us had a severe case of "get-home-itis"; families and jobs awaited us. I was Pilot in Command, as sorry a situation as you could want. I was neither much of a pilot nor much of a commander. Deeming that we had sufficient fuel, we lifted off post-haste.
Shortly after passing Kankakee, we could see a massive line of thunderstorms ahead of us. This is my no means unusual for a summer evening in Illinois and it seemed that there were plenty of non-flashing holes through which we could safely pass. We fluttered on, listening to AM radio rock-n-roll through our helmet speakers. After a while it was becoming more and more obvious that we were going to be doing some ducking and weaving. I tapped my finger on the fuel gauge. My co-pilot nodded and frowned. I considered a hop back to Kankakee and a miserable night with a grumbling crew in a motel and rejected it.
We dodged thunderheads visible only by their fireworks and suffered some moderate turbulence which reminded us how long it had been since lunch – just long enough. Nobody wants to barf into his helmet bag. With all of that dodging and searching for holes, I could see that fuel was going to be a teensy-weensy problem. The chatter on the intercom went significantly silent. Everybody knew that we had just passed the Point of No Return. I was wondering precisely how many Army Regs and Flight Rules I had already busted. I was about to bust a few more.
Well, I see that it’s time to shorten this long story. We passed safely, if unsteadily through the flashy Texas Line Dance of cumulonimbus incus aircraft washers and into the still, star-studded air of central Illinois about twenty-five minutes from Decatur when the Twenty Minute Fuel Warning light began excitedly to advertise its presence. Uh-oh. As pilots are wont to put it rather indelicately, the pucker factor increased by an order of magnitude.
Let me take a break from that breathless and somewhat pointless reminiscence to show you our creation: (and then I’ll try to explain the inexplicable)
I sincerely hope that you can see that it is a manger scene, complete with a tiny, fuzzy Baby Jesus. I contributed, somewhat distractedly, the snowflake and the exclamatory Moo from the spotted cow.
So, was there any point at all to the helicopter story? Probably not. But, if I had to guess, I guess it would be that we are sometimes so distracted by what we so desperately want that we are unable to recognise what we so desperately need. Now, connecting this somewhat tenuously back to the minefield thing, a few of those mines might capriciously explode into bouquets of roses, unlikely as that might seem. Others will blow a leg off. Some might be duds. The problem is that I must keep moving and the only way I know the intent of a mine is to step on it. You know, my situation is not a bit different from yours, now that I think of it. Humpf! And I thought I was special.
Some things which I fervently desire now are not yet available to me. Someday some of them might be. Time will tell. Time will also tell whether they were things which I actually needed. Other things, things which I do not currently yearn for, may turn out to be the things which I need. It would have been such a senseless tragedy if I had killed my crew and myself in a flame-out crash because I did not want to spend a night in a motel in Kankakee. That is what I needed. I realised that most certainly when that warning light came on.
I’m striving quite earnestly to keep my eyes peeled for the warning lights. Right now, I know that I can’t trust my desires to be in my best interest. Though some, with that fearful symmetry, burn as bright as William Blake’s tiger in the forest, I can never forget the minefield. It is not just a figure of speech. I must move forward. Carefully.
So, with that hopeful thought, I will give you a happy, pretty face. No, not mine. Though I have now made myself happier than I was a couple of hours ago I am still no prettier. Writing does that for me.
This is the lovely smiling face of Michaela of Vienna, who rescued me from an evening of solitary regret:
Saved again by a sensible and loving friend.
Modern Mechanix – Vanessa Brown — that brains are no handicap (March 1953) …item 2b.. The Easybeats – Friday On My Mind (1966) …
Image by marsmet532
First her I.Q., then her beauty, brought fame and fortune to Vanessa Brown. Now, in Broadway’s funniest hit, she demonstrates that nothing succeeds like sex BY HYMAN GOLDBERG
……..*****All images are copyrighted by their respective authors ……..
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…..item 1)…. Her Brains Didn’t Get in Her Way (Mar, 1953) …
… Modern Mechanix … blog.modernmechanix.com/ …
Yesterday’s Tomorrow Today
blog.modernmechanix.com/her-brains-didnt-get-in-her-way/#…
BY HYMAN GOLDBERG
Her Brains Didn’t Get in Her Way
First her I.Q., then her beauty, brought fame and fortune to Vanessa Brown. Now, in Broadway’s funniest hit, she demonstrates that nothing succeeds like sex BY HYMAN GOLDBERG
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img code photo … 4 of 5 … Vanessa Brown
blog.modernmechanix.com/mags/qf/c/Cosmopolitan/3-1953/bra…
In Hollywood, Vanessa occasionally poses for classic studio photography, offering convincing proof that brains are no handicap–if they don’t show.
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Send Coupon Now For Free Oregon Picture Booklet
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When a movie called “I’ve Always Loved You” opened several years ago, a young critic named Smylla Brind declared in the student newspaper of the University of California at Los Angeles that Vanessa Brown, the feminine lead, made the picture seem much better than it was. Miss Brown would bear watching, the young critic wrote, for she was certain to make her mark as a serious actress.
A few months ago, when the play “The Seven Year Itch” became an overnight hit on Broadway, the college critic’s judgment was borne out. For New York’s hard-bitten critics described Vanessa Brown’s acting as “a delight,” “a joy to watch,” and “a perfect performance.”
This was highly gratifying to Vanessa Brown, whose real name is Smylla Brind.
Her I.Q. Is in the Genius Class Strange and wonderful things are to be expected from young ladies with Vanessa’s attributes. Vanessa is beautiful and extremely shapely. She has blue eyes and auburn hair. When her I.Q. was taken some years ago, she scored 169, in the genius category. This makes her a definite anomaly in Hollywood, where bust and I.Q. measurements work in reverse.
Among the pictures she has made are “Margie,” “Mother Wore Tights,” and “The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.” In “The Late George Apley,” she played Richard Haydn’s daughter. In “The Foxes of Harrow,” she played Haydn’s wife. “I suppose,” she says, “that eventually I’ll play his mother, then his grandmother.”
When Vanessa was fourteen, she made her debut on the legitimate stage in the road company of “Watch on the Rhine.”
At the same time, she became one of the famous “Quiz Kids.”
Vanessa has struggled to live down her Quiz Kid reputation. When she called on Katharine Hepburn to read for a part in a play, Miss Hepburn snapped, “You’re that Quiz Kid, aren’t you?” Vanessa blushed. “Well, if you’re so damn smart, tell me what Shakespeare meant by ‘bearded like the pard’?”
“I had no idea,” says Vanessa, recalling this encounter, “but I’ve never been afraid to make a wild guess, which is very often mistaken for brilliance. So I took a guess. I said, ‘Leopard, bearded like a leopard.’ Miss Hepburn jumped up and yelled. ‘How did you ever know that? Lord, do you know Shakespeare that well?’ But I just smiled, and didn’t say anything, which is also sometimes (continued) taken for brilliance. I got the part, and toured with Miss Hepburn for five months. We got along fine.”
Vanessa Brown got along so well, indeed, that Katharine Hepburn has called her the one young Hollywood actress sure to achieve greatness on the stage.
Elliott Nugent, co-producer of “The Seven Year Itch,” Vanessa’s current play, says he was warned about Vanessa before he heard her read the part. “I was just a little leery,” he says, “about her reputation as a Quiz Kid. I was warned that she was too intellectual and that she’d probably be constantly theorizing and analyzing the play. But I saw from the start that she had just the right combination of innocence and provocativeness for the part, and I found that she is intelligent. But her intelligence was an asset, not a hindrance. She studied the play and her part so thoroughly that she brought depth of character to her portrayal of a girl who is essentially a simple type. You don’t often get that combination of good looks and intelligence in an actress.”
Vanessa, an only child, was born in Vienna. Her father is Dr. Nah Brind, a philologist, or student of languages. “He speaks nine languages,” says Vanessa, “or maybe it’s fourteen; I forget.” Her mother is Dr. Anna Brind, a practicing psychologist. Both her parents earned their doctorates at the University of Vienna, and both now lecture at UCLA. They left Vienna to go to Paris in 1932.
“My father,” says Vanessa, “has a strong historical sense, and he could see trouble brewing. I went to school in Paris, and then, five years later, my father went to America, because he saw that even Paris wasn’t going to be safe. After he had established himself in New York, he sent for Mother and me.
“Just before we left, Mother decided to go back to Vienna to visit her mother. When we came back to Paris we found a cable from Father warning us not to go to Vienna before we left Europe, because it would be too dangerous. That very day, Hitler marched into Austria.”
Vanessa speaks French and German fluently, and gets along fairly well in Italian. Although she was out of school for almost a year while she traveled around the country with the road company of “Watch on the Rhine,” she still managed to graduate from junior high school among the top ten in her class.
She did her schoolwork with the help of five girls who took turns sending her the assignments. She attended Hunter College High School in New York, which accepts only honor students, and then transferred to Hollywood High School when the family moved to Los Angeles after Vanessa was signed to a long-term movie contract. She was graduated from UCLA. She hopes eventually to earn her doctorate. “Everybody in my family is a doctor. I don’t want to be the only one who isn’t.” she says.
Her Husband Has Positive Ideas Her husband is Dr. Robert A. Franklyn, one of Hollywood’s leading plastic surgeons. Dr. Franklyn, a New Yorker who served in the medical corps of the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II. is a man with positive opinions. When the management of the hotel in which he was then living objected to, his huge German shepherd dog, he had built for himself a large, ultramodern home, of rock, glass, and rare woods, where he and the dog could live undisturbed.
Several years ago, while Vanessa was in New York, a man serving a summons on Dr. Franklyn in a civil suit involving 0 complained- that he was greeted at the Franklyn house with a revolver shot. Dr. Franklyn said he had been asleep and was awakened by his dog’s barking. “Since I was alone.” he said, “I got my gun. As I walked down the driveway, a man came toward me. mumbling, and I fired into the air to scare him off. I thought he was a burglar, or a prowler, and I called the police.” The incident was settled as a misunderstanding.
Dr. Franklyn and Vanessa met through the good offices of a mutual friend named Martin Abramson, a magazine, radio, and television writer. “I had interviewed both of them before,” says Abramson, “and when I was in Hollywood gathering material for stories, I visited Dr. Franklyn. My wife. Marcia, was with me. She asked him how it was that a man like himself, rich and successful, and with a wide acquaintance among Hollywood beauties, had never married.
” “I’m tired of all this shallow Hollywood glamour.’ he answered. ‘If I could find somebody young and with a cultural background, sexy but innocent, beautiful and clever, glamorous and witty, maybe I could fall in love with her.’ ”
Abramson and his wife stared at each other. “We’re on our way,” said Abramson, “to see the girl you jus! described. Do you know Vanessa Brown?” Dr. Franklyn couldn’t believe such a girl existed, but he went along. Vanessa’s mother engaged Dr. Franklyn in a heated discussion as soon as they were introduced. Plastic surgeons, she maintained, do not give their patients sufficient psychological preparation before their operations. In the midst of the debate. Vanessa announced that she had a date. Dr. Franklyn told her later that he was appalled that she could think of going out with someone else when he was there, but he agreed, nevertheless, to drive her to where she was going.
They were married a year later, and Vanessa moved into Dr. Franklyn’s ultramodern home.
Every two weeks Dr. Franklyn flies to New York to see her, and they call each other two “or three times a day. “We talked about all the money we spend on long-distance telephone calls,” says Vanessa, “so Bob bought stock in the telephone company.
“Of course, being separated like this isn’t the best thing in the world, but it does have its advantages. When we meet every two weeks, it seems like a perpetual honeymoon. And. anyway, it’s Bob’s fault that I’m away from him so long. When I said I wanted to do a play, he picked ‘The Seven Year Itch’ because he thought it wouldn’t run very long.”
Her Husband Requests Glamour Dr. Franklyn. who is ten years older than Vanessa, has guided and influenced her in other ways. Before they were married, Vanessa’s wardrobe ran largely to skirts and sweaters. Her husband, whose taste runs to off-the-shoulder dresses and blouses, taught her to dress more glamorously.
Every night when she comes to the theatre. Vanessa asks what organizations have bought up blocks of tickets. She doesn’t vary her performance to suit the audience, of course, but she likes to know for whom she’s playing because she has lectured to so many different groups.
Vanessa, incidentally, is a startling lecturer for groups expecting a Hollywood beauty who will simply smile and add glamour to their gathering. Vanessa seldom passes up a chance to speak out.
When she was invited recently to attend a meeting of the Nassau County Cancer Committee, who wanted her help in publicizing their cause, she called on a friend of her father’s, a noted cancer expert. She spent several hours with him. absorbing technical information. As a result, the Nassau County Cancer Committee heard a learned lecture on cancer by Vanessa Brown, star of stage, screen, and television.
When she was introduced at the Dutch Treat Club, a luncheon group of New York business and professional men, as “a young lady who thinks like a man.” she took umbrage. “The greatest compliment a man can pay a woman.” she remarked, “is to say that she thinks like a man. But I think that maybe it isn’t such a great compliment, when I look around at the state of the world and consider that men made it that way by thinking like men.”
Though Vanessa Brown is undeniably an intellectual, she is not hesitant in letting it be known that her face and form are lovely to look at. for she well understands the sweet uses of publicity. In “The Seven Year Itch,” she plays the part of a giddy and acquiescent young model who cooperates thoroughly with a married man. whose wife is away in the country, in proving to himself that marriage hasn’t robbed him of his appeal to other women. In the play, Vanessa is supposed to have posed for a photograph in the nude, which she shows to Tom Ewell. who plays the married man.
With this material at hand. Vanessa embarked on a highly successful publicity stunt. She let it be known that since she was going to play the part of a girl who had posed for a nude picture, she thought she should have her picture taken unclothed. Next came word that she was looking for “a respectable married man” to take her picture in the nude. Thousands of photographers volunteered.
Then word came from Hollywood that the picture of Vanessa in the nude had already been made, but that it would not be released. This set off a great debate: Did Vanessa pose in the nude, or did she not?
Recently Vanessa told the story of what actually happened. “It did seem like a good idea,” she says, “so I had pictures made of me in the nude by ‘a respectable married man’—my husband.”
At twenty-five, Vanessa feels, rightly, that she has a long career ahead of her in the movies and on the stage and in television. “But,” she says, “in the American theatre, the accent is on youth. I’ll have to prepare for the time when I won’t be in demand.”
She Writes—and Sells—Stories When that time comes, Vanessa hopes to be established as a writer. She has collected masses of rejection slips, but she lias sold three short stories. And she has written a play, which some people think has merit. “An actress gets old.” she says, “and people don’t want to see her. But a writer improves with age, like brandy.” The End
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…..item 2a)…. youtube videos … 12 video …
… Friday on My Mind … 2:37 minutes …
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBJLoYd8xak&list=ALBTKoXRg38B…
myBeatclub
Uploaded on Sep 7, 2009
Die komplette Beat Club-Folge mit diesem Auftritt zum Download im iTunes Store:
clk.tradedoubler.com/click?p=2...
Die Aufnahme von "Friday On My Mind" stammt aus dem Beat Club Silvester-Special vom 31.12.1966.
British Invasion from Downunder: Easyfever – so nannte man die australische Variante der Beatlemania, damals ausgelöst durch die Easybeats! Mit "Friday On My Mind" landeten sie den ersten internationalen Hit für eine australische Band. Jahre später sollten die beiden Gitarristen der Band, George Young und Henry Vanda, ein erfolgreiches Produzententeam bilden. Auf ihr Konto gehen u. a. die ersten sieben Alben von AC/ DC (George Young ist der ältere Bruder von Malcom und Angus Young). Und nicht zu vergessen ihre eigene Popband Flash & The Pan, die in den 80er Jahre große Erfolge feierte.
You may think that British Invasion or Beat Music were typically British phenomena? No, they weren’t … Actually Australia got their own Beatlemania – here called "Easyfever" as a result of The Easybeats! The Easybeats were the greatest Australian pop band in the 60s and scored the first international hit for an Australian band with the song "Friday On my Mind". Later the two guitarists, George Young and Henry Vanda, became a famous songwriter and producer duo. Their work includes the first seven albums of AC/DC – featuring George’s younger brothers Angus and Malcolm Young! And don’t forget their 80s pop group Flash & the Pan with the hits "Early Morning Wake Up Call" an "Midnight Man".
Category
Music
License
Standard YouTube License
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…..item 2b)…. youtube video … The Easybeats – Friday On My Mind (1966) … 2:46 minutes …
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSowZcvoqr4
Miguel Avalos
Uploaded on Jul 2, 2009
The Easybeats members
Dick Diamonde — bass guitar
Gordon "Snowy" Fleet — drums
Harry Vanda — lead guitar
Stevie Wright — lead vocals
George Young — rhythm guitar
Written by band members George Young and Harry Vanda.
Best Australian Songs of all time.
Monday morning feels so bad,
Ev’rybody seems to nag me
Coming tuesday I feel better,
Even my old man looks good,
Wednesday just don’t go,
Thursday goes too slow,
I’ve got Friday on my mind
Chorus
Gonna have fun in the city,
Be with my girl she’s so pretty,
She looks fine tonight,
She is out of sight to me,
Tonight….I spend my bread,
Tonight…I lose my head,
Tonight…I got to get tonight
Monday I have Friday on my mind.
Do the five day drag once more,
Know of nothing else that bugs me
More than working for the rich man,
Hey I’ll change that scene one day,
Today I might be mad,
Tomorrow I’ll be glad,
I’ve got Friday on my mind,
Category
Music
License
Standard YouTube License
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