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Have you ever looked at a scoop of ice cream and thought, “I wish this looked a little more . . . threatening. Kind of like a professional wrestler?” Well, the July issue of WWE Kids magazine has answered your prayers.

The only ones I can identify are John Cena (“Chillin’ Champ”) and Undertaker (“Rest in Sweets”). How fucking adorable are they?!

My job’s been driving me batshit crazy lately, but it still brings me unexpected little joys, which today happened to arrive in the form of two equally bizarre magazine covers.

Feast your eyes!

(Bonus: Paul Stanley in last June’s Family Circle.)

On a recent *trip to New York my dashing swain and I stumbled upon a thrift store containing boxes of jumbled old postcards, which we then spent an hour sifting through, until the dust was too much to take. This was the first time I’d actually bought vintage postcards as opposed to just happening into them, so it was refreshing to pick and choose.

One hot summer in Itching Down,
Four million wasps flew into town.

So begins The Giant Jam Sandwich by John Vernon Lord, first published in 1972. After a village is besieged by wasps, Bap the Baker comes up with the idea to lure them with a giant jam sandwich and trap them inside.

I’d completely forgotten this book existed, even though it was one of my favorites as a child, courtesy of the Weekly Reader Book Club. A few days ago a copy came across my desk at work and I immediately snatched it up. As I started reading, I was floored to realize that many of the images had been in the back of my mind for decades: The enormous loaf of bread baked by “fifty cookers in an old brick mill,” butter and jam being spread by a tractor, helicopters dropping the top slice—kersplat!—and trapping the wasps inside.

Discovering this book again was pure joy.

It’s fitting that I’ve procrastinated with this until today, because, well:

Maybe now our feathered patrons will stop complaining about the difficulty of finding suitable reading material.

Artwork left near computer station recently vacated by middle schoolers.

Extra points for proper use of “they’re.”

My obsession with vintage cookbooks is well-documented, but so far I’ve ignored one special type, the redheaded stepchild of those glossy, mass-produced monstrosities: the fundraiser cookbook.

Compiled by churches, schools and other groups, these collections showcase recipes from the home cook, offered up in cheap binding, kept for a short time out of a sense of obligation then unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

Or donated to the library. 

Let’s see what the Faculty Wives Club of the Long Beach City College and Administrative Departments of the Board of Education (1959-60) are serving up.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved erasers; specifically, Pink Pearl erasers, which is funny, because I hardly ever make mistakes write in pencil (and when I do, it’s Dixon Ticonderoga #2 all the way, baby).

So, imagine my delight when I come across this little item while shopping for another flash drive:

It’s an actual eraser, with a flash drive inside.

Genius!

I was also looking for a mirror to keep in my desk at work, since I usually end up eating breakfast and doing my makeup at the library every morning. I fell in love with this oversized, retro compact:

Flash drive $6.99, mirror $9.99, both from Target.