.
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 …
.
.
Until we opened the door and the cold air hit his pansy ass feline self.
.
.
At which point he turned tail and jumped right on the heating pad.
.
.
His Lordship is most definitely a fair weather beast.
.
.
The husband and I stopped into a local seafood place the other day for a drink and a bite.
.
.
The bartender whipped me up a few fabulous Snowy White Cosmopolitans…
.
.
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.
.
.
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.
.
.
It’s a good thing she’d delivered my crab quesadillas before my I let loose my poisoned comment.
.
.
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…
.
.
And an outboard motor kegerator.
Me and my big liquored up mouth. It will never learn.
🥴
.
Sometimes things look a little different in my state.
.
.
Don’t knock it, you can carry quite a few six packs in that bucket.
Some of our locals are poets.
.
.
The benefit of living in a small rural town filled with farms? Our food pantry is always well stocked for those less fortunate.
.
.
Maine is on a temperature roller coaster right now.
.
.
I swear I’m getting whiplash.
.
.
But still…
.
.
Life is good.
.
.
Ohio politicians be crazy.
.
.
Yes, you read that correctly. An Ohio mayor thinks ice fishing shacks are being used for immoral purposes.
For all my warm climate readers? These are the ice shacks in my town.
.
.
Small plywood and tin buildings, usually uninsulated and always with a large hole in the floor. A more uncomfortable bordello you’re not apt to find.
.
.
If you’ve ever been ice fishing you know how ridiculous this is. If you haven’t? Trust me… it’s not the least bit conducive to amorous activities.
.
.
I’m going with embarrassment all day long.
.
.
People often tell me my sense of humor is dark. If that’s true, then I really need to buy these.
.
.
Tired of all those chipper little self help themed fortunes? Then get a load of these.
.
.
Oh yeah.
I gotta get me some.
.
.
Misfortune cookies. I love it.
.
.
Take that you eternal optimists!
.
.
I am so buying these.
.
.
I live in Maine, Land of Lobster. We catch it, we eat it, we export it, we celebrate it with festivals. Hell, we’ve built an entire tourist industry around it.
The one thing we don’t do with it? Relieve menstrual cramps.
Yet someone, somewhere thought they should.
.
.
Meet the Menstruation Crustacean.
Jesus wept.
.
.
Lobsters are a lot of things…. long lived, bottom dwelling, quick swimming, and delicious in drawn butter.
.
.
But cuddly?
Cuddly doesn’t make the top ten.
.
.
Yes, this lobster abomination can hold tampons in its claws.
.
.
Something I have to admit I’ve never seen ours do.
.
.
Gather round boys and girls, it’s time to scientifically examine what happens after we die with select excerpts from book #3 in my ever expanding Mary Roach collection.
.
.
You loved Stiff. You were pleasantly revolted by Gulp. So let’s pull back the veil of death and ponder the age old mystery.
.
.
Important questions, all.
.
.
In case you’re wondering… reincarnation nation is India. And since they have the highest number of people who claim to be born again, that’s where Mary began her research.
.
.
This does not bode well. Cheese vagueness is a terrible thing.
.
.
Au contraire Mary. I think the P.P. designation is damn near perfect.
.
.
If that’s not definitive proof of reincarnation, I don’t know what is.
In reading this book we learn culture and religion have a lot to do with the acceptance of past lives, as this ancient Hindu text demonstrates. Live a good life? You will be rewarded. Live a bad life? Well… that’s where things get interesting.
.
.
An eternity of vomit eating?
No one wants that.
.
.
My girlfriend and I went shopping last week and were excited to discover a new Cajun seafood restaurant had opened in South Portland. Mouth watering for shrimp ettouffe or crawfish gumbo, we entered The Shaking Crab.
.
.
Why was the crab shaking? I have no idea. But the place being nearly empty at the height of the lunch hour should have been our first clue something wasn’t quite right.
.
.
Six dollar drinks went a long way to calm our suspicions…
.
.
Though the Cajuns I’ve known wouldn’t be caught dead drinking a watermelon-tini.
.
.
Giant plastic crabs were everywhere. As were plastic starfish and randomly placed hanging plastic water bubbles.
All the waitstaff were Asian. 9/10ths of the customers were Asian. The scent of the room was reminiscent of an Asian kitchen. The menu? Not an ettouffe, Boudin, or jambalaya in sight.
.
.
Though you could order “coleslow” and “braccoli ”. (These appeared twice, spelled incorrectly both times.) I didn’t bother taking pictures of our meals, they were just typical fried seafood baskets as the only other choices were giant plates of steamed things in a plastic wrap bubble you had to crack, and we didn’t feel like making a mess. I did try to catch a shot of one being delivered to another table, but missed.
Imagine a giant Jiffy Pop balloon encircling a metal dish, only its clear plastic instead of foil. It was an absolutely bizarre presentation of what I’m assuming was meant to be a crawfish boil.
I lived down south. I had Cajun friends and neighbors. I’ve sucked heads. Whatever The Shaking Crab meant to be? It sure as hell wasn’t Cajun.
.
.
.
.
The lesson we learn here? If you can’t find someone, follow their trail of poo. I prefer searching Facebook… but you do you.
.
.
Disney buying Star Wars has ruined the franchise for me. You never would have seen Darth Vader handing out masks…
.
.
Nothing.
That’s what I want to know about the health benefits of this noxious weed.
.
.
.
A jellyfish martini glass?
Yes please!
.
.
I may be speaking for myself, but a good Camembert does more for my soul than Jesus ever has.
.
.
Why did I ever stop drinking lemon drops? A recent visit to our favorite restaurant found me sitting next to two women of a certain age, one of whom was celebrating a birthday. They were drinking lemon drop martinis, so I did as well. It’s all about solidarity.
.
.
Best name for a spaghetti sauce, ever.
.
River's world..... 