Tag Archives: hometown

I love my town.

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And their wacky Facebook Group postings.

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Cat damage and springs that poke your butt?

Hurry up people, these won’t last long!

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A noisy big yellow machine. I shall follow this thread and report back. Who knows… maybe it’s the Beatles’ long lost submarine.

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Christ. Don’t tell my husband!

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You may not know what it feels like to fall off the turnip truck, but in my town… apparently you can fall off the potato one.

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This is a running gag because certain parts of our town lose power quite easily. Flatulent rodents will probably strike here next, stay tuned

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Sadly, I know of no retail chicken establishments.

Wonder if I could talk them into a few clever and highly motivated red squirrels instead?

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I love my town….

 

And their slightly off balance Facebook page.

 

 

 

Not off hand, no.

But I hope he finds one. Pigless is a terrible thing to be.

 

 

 

This picture of our local sheriff’s truck was posted by a resident.

Because really, who needs blue lights when you have a chicken?

 

 

 

 

This post was met with the incredulity and the scathing derision it deserved . Reveal your fiddlehead location? To a stranger!!

Mainers have been killed for less.

Fiddleheads are a precious ($15-$20 per pound) and extremely fleeting commodity in the spring. Locals protect their secret gathering spots like they do their virgin daughters. Personally I can’t stand the slimy things…

 

 

 

But Mainers go berserk for them.

And speaking of barely edible food, some well meaning townie posted this:

 

 

 

Now really, if I’m not going to eat the delicate unfurled leaves of a fern?

You can damn sure bet I’m not baking helicopter seed pods that look like bugs.

Damn.

Ars Gratia Artis.

 

Art for Art’s Sake.

Noble words, but do they apply to off color road graffiti?

Let’s ask the woman in my town who discovered a piece of art and posted it on Facebook….

 

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Well, yes.

That is a rather large  skin flute, dipstick, tallywacker, schlong,  piece of art.

And apologies for the photo censorship, it wasn’t me.

I’d never deface someone’s  Johnson, knob, love muscle, trouser monkey,  creative expression that way.

I did however get a kick out of the comments on this post.

 

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Of course.

That’s what I thought when I first saw it as well.

 

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I’d always been told size doesn’t matter.

Clearly,  that was wrong.

 

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Butterfly?

That’s sweet, if mildly disturbing.

 

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And yes, considering the size and scope of it?

That’s probably sound advice.

 

 

 

I love my town … part, whatever.

 

Our town’s FB page has been filled with blog fodder lately.

Here are a few of the best…

 

 

Name That Scat?

You can’t get quality posts like this in the city.

No sir.

 

 

Damn, I wonder if that drone crackpot who wrapped himself in tinfoil lives close by?

No anal probes needed here.

 

 

This is utterly fabulous.

No joke.

 

 

Good thing the husband didn’t see this.

Free is a four letter word as far as I’m concerned.

 

 

 

Christ…

I hope not.

 

 

Our townspeople are so helpful.

Because you can never be too prepared for Zombies.

 

 

Toilet paper…

What’s that?

 

 

The Easter Bunny was spotted last month, although I’m not sure why he needed a cannon.

 

 

Thankfully this person lives on the other side of town because while tire planters are never a good idea….

Hot pink tire planters would strain even Mr. Rogers’ love for his neighbors.