Archive for June, 2012

View Of Red Flowers

While digging in the Flickr Commons, I found a fascinating collection of hand-colored glass slides. It’s so wonderful that things like this can be shared with the entire world, when they once would have faded away in some dusty drawer.

View of red flowers

View of red flowers. 1906.

Name of Expedition: British East Africa
Participants: Carl Akeley
Expedition Start Date: October 8, 1905
Expedition End Date: December 21, 1906
Purpose or Aims: Zoology Mammals
Location: Africa, Kenya, Voi

Original material: Hand-colored glass lantern slide


I was taking a break from my recent anime binge the other night and decided to see what the capricious Netflix spirits had for me that contained live people.

Thank you, Netflix spirits!

The plot of the film is pretty straight-forward; there’s a beautiful movie star who is getting married to her novelist boyfriend, but they are being hounded by the paparazzi. To avoid the press, the couple flee to a tiny island in the Outer Hebrides where the author’s book was set but they are followed. To throw a persistent paparazzo off the trail when the bride goes missing, a local girl gets roped into standing in as a decoy. Hi-jinks ensue.

The scenery is beautiful, the accents are thick, and I found the dialogue engaging. There’s quite a bit of snippy verbal sparring that was quite humorous and there are a number of running jokes that pop up from time to time, like how nothing in the author’s book matches the island (he Googled everything) and this one adorable old lady who keeps talking about a whale. How can you not love a movie where the two lead characters meet in a public toilet and one of them pretends to be the ghost of a drowned cow?

Yes, the plot is fairly formulaic – anyone who has ever seen a romantic comedy can guess what’s going to happen – but it is very well-done. It’s like taking the scenic route to your favorite place; you know the way but you can enjoy the scenery. And who knows, maybe you’ll see the Tenth Doctor dressed as a Scottish Huggy Bear.

This is not a Photoshop – this shit happens. He also plays the bagpipes.

Kill It With Fire!

Not long ago Mother Dearest brought home a baby doll. This particular doll, like many of the toys she finds, talks. Only this one looks like it wants to consume your soul.

Seen here preparing to devour a baby’s head after MD fixed its tangled hair.

The doll speaks a handful of phrases with long pauses in between so that it appears that the undead monster is having a conversation with your darling offspring.It has a flap in its back that you open up to expose a numerical keyboard that looks like a flesh-toned telephone, I assume that it originally came with an instruction book that told you how to tame the evil spirit that resides within so it will call you by name and not just “Mama.”
MD couldn’t really understand what I found so disturbing, but she also used to sand baby-doll eye sockets for fun and profit so I think her perspective is a bit skewed. It’s partially the face being too old for the body, it looks more like a toddler-doll than a baby-doll from the neck up, and partially the creepy-ass voice this thing possesses.

This is GhostDad’s version of “helping” – please note the pile of baby-doll limbs stacked like crab legs behind the creepy doll. GD originally wanted to “decorate” the creepy doll with them like it was some sort of hellish Christmas tree.

Anyone remember penis-nose?

A.K.A. My Pet Monster

One Tuesday someone bought this fine specimen off of eBay for roughly three hundred times the thirty-three cents I paid for it.

When I told Mother Dearest that I didn’t understand why someone would pay that much for an old stuffed animal, she went off into a ramble about how some people don’t visit yard sales or thrift stores and just shop on eBay.

I kinda feel sorry for those people.

Sammich Theatre

I had another odd dream, this one featuring Mother Dearest. When I told her about it she laughed, so I’m guessing it’s strange enough to be entertaining.

I dreamt that I was eating a meal with MD and GhostDad, we were at one of the restaurants that we usually go to for breakfast on the weekends. MD had ordered a ham sandwich and had pulled small pieces of the meat out of her sandwich and laid them on the table. While GD and I were eating, she drew little stick figures on the bits of meat and started arranging them into little scenes like she was doing a play.

I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think she was doing Macbeth.


On Saturday I was fixing up a batch of laundry detergent. Unlike most batches, I didn’t use homemade soap but decided to make use of a cache of hotel soaps I had laying around. I had the soap melted into the water and had added the borax, the last step was to add the washing soda. I knew that it would foam up, so I started by adding a little at the time. Then a lump fell out of the scoop I was using to sprinkle the soda over the liquid and the reaction was extremely energetic and it overflowed. Naturally I wanted to get the pot off the burner before it went everywhere, so I grabbed it and got boiling soap all over my hand.

Once the burner was turned off and the overflowing pot was out of harm’s way I stuck my hand in the sink for several minutes. Since there was already several blisters forming and it hurt terribly when I took it out of the water, I filled a bowl with cold water and went down the hall. Mother Dearest was taking a nap and I woke her up, explaining what had happened. She took a look at it and it was decided after some discussion that we should visit a doctor.

MD thought that there was an urgent care in one shopping center even though I told her several times that it wasn’t there anymore – we did stop and get some ice for my water bowl, which was starting to warm up.

We finally got to see a doctor by visiting the place I first suggested and I was examined, turns out I’ve got second-degree burns. I get all bandaged up and a prescription for painkillers and sent on my way home.

That’s how I ended up being Ghostie Gauzefingers.

Vicodin is awesome stuff, but with my laughably low drug tolerance I have a tendency to forget things when under the influence of Mr. V. Like how gut-achingly nauseous I get if I don’t eat something when I take one. So I take a pill before bed without any food and wake up a couple of hours later feeling stoned and sick. I manage to make it to the bathroom before I’m violently ill. I did panic for a minute when I thought I was bleeding internally, but then I remembered drinking several glasses of Cheerwine (it’s a cherry soft drink that is a dark red color for you Northern folks) before bed. I was ill several times through the night and into the next morning.

While at breakfast/lunch with the folks I kept nodding off sitting up, I would jerk myself awake from time to time. As soon as I got home I took a nap and felt much better. No more Vicodin on an empty stomach for me.

The swelling has gone down quite a bit and with the exception of a few large blisters and sensitive patches it looks pretty normal. I have a patch on my stomach as well, but it’s no worse than a bad sunburn. The stuff splashed on my feet as well, but luckily I got my socks off before I got burned. GhostDad thought I was making soap at the time, but I use far more precautions when I’m working with caustic lye.  This was my own fault for underestimating a chemical reaction.

It’s a good thing I’m a southpaw, although I’m quickly learning how hard it is to do things with only one hand.

Don’t touch me with those things!


Mastadon americanus, Newburg Mastadon, 1900-1935.

Doesn’t it look like it’s grinning at you?


While I enjoy joining Mother Dearest in her quest for finding yard sale bargains, the early hour coupled with my tendency to stay up late on Friday leave me in less than pristine condition. Usually by the time we get back home I feel like this guy.

"Wild Eye", the Souvenir King

Dude … I got the best dealssszzzz…


I was on my way to the dentist the other day and sitting in the turning lane getting ready to turn onto the street where the office was located. The road is a pretty busy one, six lanes plus the turning lane, and people drive like they’ve recently been shot full of cocaine and had their cars filled with bees. I had just gotten in the turning lane when the car in the lane beside me tried to get into the lane ahead of me. There was already someone parked at the light and the driver trying to get over misjudged the distance – there wasn’t room for the vehicle to get over.

Now, the prudent thing to do since the turning lane’s light was red but the non-turning lanes were green would be to forget turning and just drive a block down to the next light, turn around, and approach the intersection from the opposite way.

Yeah … that’s not what happened.

This driver froze with one wheel in the turning lane, effectively blocking an entire lane of a busy road. The honking of horns grew heavy, and I imagine the cursing of the blocked drivers did as well.

Why would someone do that? Was the driver one of those people who don’t respond well to change, or were they just that self-centered that they didn’t care that they were inconveniencing so many people? I’ll never know, but it seemed like a pretty dick move at the time.

The Answer Is Three

So what is the question?


The question is “What is the highest number of people who have had their hands in my mouth at one time?”


During a recent dental cleaning/check-up they found four cavities, which I had filled in two sessions – one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday.

The actual procedures weren’t too bad but now my face hurts something fierce, mostly from the Novocaine shots and having my face-hole stretched open for an hour at the time. One cavity was in the back of my mouth, which was hard to get to since my mouth is so small. The dentist had one assistant but she couldn’t quite handle things, so one of the other assistants was asked to help. That’s how I ended up with six hands in my mouth at once poking me with various bits of metal. It was not fun and I do not recommend it.

On the plus side, everyone said I was an excellent patient; I thought it was odd that they kept asking me if I was okay every five minutes. Apparently dozing off in the middle of a filling is cause for alarm. I didn’t realize that my teeth were hurting me until the first shots kicked in, the absence of an ache I hadn’t even really been aware of was such a good feeling I just closed my eyes and kinda drifted off. I really should go to the dentist more often.