A blog that goes south. Literally….

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In a follow up to my fascinating post about frozen Finnish flesh…

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I would think the freezing part would hurt more, but what do I know?

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Imagine if you will…. you train your whole life, you work hard, you sacrifice, you qualify for the Olympics, your 15 minutes of fame finally roll around and instead of a gold medal? You get world wide weiner coverage.

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Well, yeah. Of course we are. It’s not something you hear about everyday.

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What is it they say… when life hands you lemons?

This guy will undoubtedly drink for free in bars around the world for a very long time.

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The wall of death and other antique store oddities.

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In an effort to amuse my recently retired husband, I took him to the largest antique in Maine. Five full floors of crap no one needs treasure housed in an old chicken barn. Okay, there was no heat in parts of it and the lights went out twice… but my spouse will tell you that’s part of the charm.

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To say this place went on forever was an understatement. Knowing I was going to lose the spouse over the course of the afternoon I made sure he had his cell phone fully charged and within reach. Many a “I’m standing in front of the walrus tusk, next to the embalmer’s table” calls were made that day.

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When you antique shop with my husband? It’s an all day affair. Each and every ludicrous piece of crap treasure must be thoroughly examined.

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And I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say this is where ugly lamps go to die.

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Good grief. That one looks like it has a tumor.

And since this is a northern Maine antique mall?

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There was the required Wall of Death.

Not being a hunter, these displays always make me cringe. Mounting trophy heads is barbaric as far as I’m concerned. I’m sure this poor fellow agrees…

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Taxidermy.

When it goes wrong? It goes really wrong.

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The juxtaposition of this World War II gas mask with the jauntily hatted little cherub defies rational explanation, but proves you never know what will be around the next corner.

To be continued….

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Do you love gadgets?

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I remember flipping through the Sharper Image catalog in the 80’s and being amazed at the wide array of gadgets on offer. Digital answering machines! Dual cassette decks! Pagers! It didn’t get much cooler than that.

Yes, we’ve come a long way since the VHS tape rewinder… but I still find myself checking out what the new Sharper Image is selling these days.

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This is awesome. Instant photos from your phone! Not that I ever print pictures anymore, but damn it… with that gadget I could if I wanted to.

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I already have a vinyl to MP3 converter, but now it’s possible to transfer all my old mixed tapes from the 80’s? Count me in.

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Okay, it’s true… I don’t play golf. But I also never like to be far from an ice cold margarita so this is totally going on my Christmas list.

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News you can’t use.

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The Winter Olympics are over, but some stories are still worth telling.

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Not being born with that particular appendage, I can only imagine what that would feel like. The time I froze the Oscar Meyer wieners by mistake comes to mind, and if so? Ouch!

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I’m happy to report Cluck was adopted. Read about him here.

https://amp.charlotteobserver.com/news/state/north-carolina/article258043433.html

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There are numerous reasons I’m not flying right now. Covid, extended periods of mandatory masking which kick my hot flashes into high gear, and crazy passengers who have to be zip tied during flight… but a stranger’s bare feet on the back of my head? If this is what’s happening now, I may never fly again.

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Of course it will. The way things are going in the world these days, I expected no less.

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Sorry, you’re on your own with this one. I didn’t read the article. My life is fine just the way it is.

Spook… part 2.

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While Spook was a semi interesting read, I have to admit it wasn’t the chuckle a minute I was expecting. Perhaps the subject of death is beyond even Ms Roach’s power of snark.

There weren’t nearly as many blog worthy snippets, but here are a few I thought strange enough to include.

The early chapters talk a lot about the soul. What it is, where it is, how much it weighs, and the sometimes odd ways religions define and honor it.

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Porta potties for the dearly departed? That qualifies as odd in my book. And if your family neglects the weekly grocery run you have to eat your own poop from the beyond the grave? Clearly the Egyptians have a different idea of heaven.

Discussions of the soul’s origin are plentiful.

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Semen derived souls? Stop and ponder that for a moment.

Communicating with the dead covered a few chapters… with methods ranging from xrays, radios, EVP, as well as medium transference during a seance. These were all the rage at the turn of the century and as expected, charlatans soon took advantage. Levitating tables, ghostly apparitions and screaming banshees were all part of the show. One of the weirdest so called phenomenon? Ectoplasm. Which surprisingly looks a lot like wet spaghetti.

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Ectoplasm (from the Greek ektos, meaning “outside”, and plasma, meaning “something formed or molded”) is a term used in spiritualism to denote a substance or spiritual energy “exteriorized” by physical mediums.

From water soaked cheesecloth to cow intestine, mediums would do anything to draw a paying crowd.

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Well, almost anything.

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Nope. Uh uh. Not happening.

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Another attempt at winter cat walking was made this week. The husband bundled up against the chill and Lord Dudley Mountcatten happily donned his harness for an excursion into the wilds of our backyard. All was proceeding nicely …

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Until we opened the door and the cold air hit his pansy ass feline self.

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At which point he turned tail and jumped right on the heating pad.

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His Lordship is most definitely a fair weather beast.

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Drinking Rule #1… do not insult the bartender.

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The husband and I stopped into a local seafood place the other day for a drink and a bite.

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The bartender whipped me up a few fabulous Snowy White Cosmopolitans…

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And somehow we got to chatting about cats. A few cocktails in I was talking about putting the harness and leash on Dudley and told the bartender that as soon as I said “walkies!” in my best falsetto… he came running. She looked at me oddly, so I explained the origin of the term.

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Barbara was a British dog trainer who had a show on PBS in the 80’s. When I mentioned her name, the bartender didn’t have a clue. Which is when I apparently insulted her by saying “You remember that show”. I truly thought she would, because ya know… we looked about the same age and she had previously commiserated with me about hot flashes. Turns out she wasn’t my age, not even close and she was less than pleased I thought so.

It was then that I realized I had broken the age old drinking rule… never piss off the bartender.

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It’s a good thing she’d delivered my crab quesadillas before my I let loose my poisoned comment.

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But clearly we’ll never be able to go back to this establishment. Which is a shame because it was a fun place, complete with an “I prefer my pets” love meter sangria dispenser…

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And an outboard motor kegerator.

Me and my big liquored up mouth. It will never learn.

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If only I could talk the husband into this….

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As previously mentioned, my husband has stuff.

A lot of stuff.

So much *ucking stuff.

It’s stuff he refuses to donate or throw out, and we know he’ll never get around to selling it…. no matter how hard it is to maneuver around the piles.

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But he does like to give things away now and then…. so when I saw this on Facebook? An evil chuckle escaped my lips.

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I love this idea!

Please include your physical address with your comment. Something old and utterly useless could be coming your way.

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