So a certain blogger (who shall remain nameless unless he/she actually wants to take credit for this post) sent me a link to a product that I found the day after Thanksgiving.
Having just enjoyed copious amounts of turkey, I admit it made me think twice about ever eating one again. It seems we never really know what those birds are up to pre gluttonous feast.
Behold The Tryptotrouser Turkey Print Ball Hammock Boxer Briefs:
Yup.
They exist.
And the product description is totally blog worthy.
Spend more time stuffing your face and less time stuffing your balls this Thanksgiving. Introducing the only ball hammock boxers that can hold just as much weight as your tryptophan-induced insides can fathom. Protect your baby gravy like you protect your prized family seat, with a ball hammock to gently rest your stones and an ultra soft micro model material that will have your girl wanting seconds. And thirds. And probably yams because yams are just so tasty.
“Baby gravy”?
I’ve heard a lot of interesting terms for the male anatomy over the years…. but that’s a new one. (And speaking as someone who loves gravy on her mashed taters? Stop using it…. right freaking now.)
But if you’re thinking yeah, thanks a lot River. Thanksgiving is over and now I’ve missed a perfect opportunity to give a wonderfully thoughtful gift along with the green bean casserole?
Fear not.
This post will pass along further information for what I think is probably the best Christmas stocking stuffer ever.
For your husband, your brother, your uncle, your cousin…. Hell, for every man in your life.
Give them to your mailman and the guy who changes your oil.
If you clicked the link, you’ll realize I wasn’t talking about those delightfully revolting pink Hostess treats that look like Tribbles.
It’s another thing entirely.
No, I’m not kidding…
And some of the descriptions are funnier than the product itself.
“Summer is a decidedly, uh, swampy time for many men and the summer of 2019 has been especially hot and humid throughout most of the northern hemisphere. Dress loose and in light fabrics all you want, eventually the heat hits you in the crotch.
It’s a uniquely male problem and one underwear company has the solution to that and more. Snowballs basically wants to ice your ‘nads back into the comfort—and fertility—zone.
Being able to walk around with your ‘nads air-conditioned without risking indecent exposure is pretty appealing. And Snowballs claims their product can do more than just frost the funk away from your nether regions.”
Swampy?
Yeah, no one wants that.
“From setting sprays to chafing balm, ladies have a few tricks up their sleeves when it comes to handling the heatwave.
But now men have found something to help them out on scorching hot days — freezable pants.
Over on Amazon, a brand called Snowballs Underwear is selling “scientifically-backed cooling underwear”.
The underwear comes with ice packs — dubbed “SnowWedges” — that men are able to put in the freezer before popping into a pouch that sits over the groin.”
And before you decide the whole thing is just a joke, here’s a video to prove icing your balls, sack, nuts, jewels, sweetbreads, Christ…what term won’t get me kicked off WordPress? parts has actual medical benefits.
Never let it be said I’m not up for a good waterfall.
Sadly, this Mother wasn’t.
It sounded promising, so we headed down.
And while it was a pretty spot, I didn’t see a whole lot falling.
Oh, there were stacked rocks.
And precariously balanced rocks…
But even when we followed the sound of running water, there wasn’t much falling.
I’m sure it’s much more impressive in the spring.
But we still enjoyed the walk, the day, and…
The rocks.
A scenic drive…
Some foliage…
Some mountains…
And a lovely old bed and breakfast later….
We followed someone’s advice and stopped for a meal at the Sudbury Inn in Bethel.
Tucked away out back, down some dark steps… we found what I can only describe as the local dive bar.
Local workmen at the bar (shooting us disgusted looks) and slumming prep school students from Gould Academy made up the clientele. Uncomfortable chairs, spotty silverware and a disinterested (borderline surly) bartender/waiter… who made us wait longer than he had to… made us question why we were there.
But despite the business card decorated ceiling and questionable decor…
There was surprisingly good food and at least 2 dozen beers on tap.
Mr. Personality even accommodated the husband’s preference for grilled chicken with his chicken parm.
Which just goes to show you can’t judge a bar if you’re from out of town…. or something like that.
Our 4th day ended at our resort with us walking past the strange carved bear out front.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was praying for new carpet.
We kept climbing higher, getting closer to the falls.
But did you see it? In the bottom right hand corner…
I didn’t when I was filming, but then I took a picture.
Yeah.
While I usually pick up litter we find along the way while hiking? This I left alone.
I don’t even want to know….
Up a thoughtfully constructed rock staircase.
Deeper into the woods.
I kept thinking, geesh. Are we ever going to reach the top?
One required sun drenched selfie later…
Past the well marked trail tree…
We finally saw the top.
The view was going to be killer… I knew it.
Anxiously preparing for the money shot, I found this –
Huh…?
You mean I hauled my (considerable) butt up this hill/ gorge/ mini mountain for bupkus?
WTF!
They even had the flags running across the falls themselves.
Damned right it is! Why would you open a waterfall up to the public, create a trail, install a bench, mark that trail very carefully so people could find the top….and then not let them access the top? It’s criminal, I tell you.
Criminal.
And it made me wonder if the discarded unmentionables I saw down below were in way of protest.
I felt the same outrage! But not quite enough outrage to leave my own behind. There are limits… even for me.
Making our way back down to the parking lot I was so ticked off I didn’t take any pictures, until I saw this…
Early morning day 4, we woke with the sun and headed out for a hike to Step Falls.
I wish I could convey the sense of peace that envelops me when I walk into a forest. The fresh air of natural places, the gentle breeze swaying the leaves. The sweet songs of the birds, the whisper of the trees. It’s pure magic.
I don’t know who’s responsible for finding these wild and beautiful places and opening them to the public… but I’ll be forever grateful.
Step Falls in Bethel, Maine. In October when we visited… gently cascading streams. In spring during snow melt season? Torrents of angry water rushing down the mountain not caring what lies in it’s path.
Many of the places we visit are free to the public, but are maintained by local volunteers who ask that you donate to help with costs. Most people never do, so we make a point of it each and every time.
And with this Cycloptic donation box…. how could you not?
The paths were wide and friendly…
Although I couldn’t help but feel I was being watched.
Into the woods…
Up the hill, where we first heard the falls.
Up some stone steps.
Up some fortuitously placed tree roots.
We see a bit more water.
No.
Not even close…
Ever onward…
And upward…
Past some weird trees growing right around the rocks.
More of the falls.
And a not very comfortable but necessary granite bench to stop and let the husband take a breath.
No, the vacation series isn’t over yet, I just thought I’d give you a few days break.
Leaving the Sculptured Rocks geological site, we drove through the Cockermouth Forest.
Yes. I swear….
We did.
I’m reasoning that Cocker Spaniels are bird retrieval dogs, and therefor have tender mouths.
Yes.
That’s my explanation… and I’m sticking to it.
We headed back to our resort through Franconia Notch which was starkly devoid of leaves.
And went through the town of Carroll, where moose are clearly being held prisoner.
The Mount Washington valley still had snow..
And loomed majestic.
Back in the Bethel/Newry area, we regained the foliage.
And headed for beer.
Sunday River brewery is a large restaurant and pub that seemed to be packed with locals and tourists alike every night. We did a flight, and weren’t overly impressed with the quality…. so I switched to an Apple Smash, which was a wonderful concoction whose list of ingredients I don’t recall. But there were copious amounts of apple Crown Royal…
And isn’t that really all you need to know?
Seeing that I love soft bar pretzels and the husband doesn’t, I ordered some for my appetizer.
Holy Mother of God! Served with warm blue cheese beer sauce, they were absolutely the best I’ve ever had. I instantly forgave them their lousy beer and planned on filling a dump truck with these and riding off into the sunset.
Husband had a tasty salad..
And we both had the baked haddock, which sadly was dry and uninteresting.
Back at our resort for the night, we opted for the stairs instead of the elevator and were bombarded by yet another section of hideous carpet.
Christ, if that doesn’t give you nightmares…
Nothing will.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 