Tuesday, September 2, 2008

way too much information...?

Don't worry. Hell hasn't gotten icy. I haven't found a new hobby, or, you know, gotten some sort of real life. Instead, I've been gambling. It's just how I roll (LOL!).

But for real, this weekend I was Indian gaming in Oklahoma. (Honestly, though, Cherokee Nation gambling doesn't have anything on Minnesota's Mdewakanton Sioux Community. Mystic Lake!)

Oh, I also visited my grandmother down in the sticks of Arkansas, where I learned that if I'd been alive during WWII and possessed a different lineage, I would've had a big ol' crush on my grandpa. Yowza! What a looker!

My family has loved freedom for a long time.

Yeah... Something is so not right about what I just revealed... So. Not. Right.

But, um, moving on, my grandma also showed me some of my dad's old childhood books from the 1950s and, my-oh-sexism-my, did one of them catch my eye.


Brought to you by the one-and-only Raymond F. Yates -- the renowned author of such works as A Boy and a Battery, A Boy and a Motor, The Boys' Book of Communications, The Boys' Book of Magnetism, The Boys' Book of Model Railroading, The Boys' Book of Rockets and Model Jets and Rockets for Boys -- the above-posted book, Atomic Experiments for Boys, offers a nice overview of such fun and masculine things as geiger counters, nuclear power, the H-Bomb and, of course, "Miracle in a Pickle Jar." Apparently, a simple at-home experiment involving a pickle jar, two pieces of black velvet and a felt weather strip, which is "obtainable at any five-and-ten-cent store," allows you to witness "the paths of atomic and cosmic ray particles." Sounds sweet. I'm going to buy a jar of pickles this weekend.

But besides deciding my grandpa was dreamy in the 1940s (hmm...it's still not sounding any less creepy...) and discovering I have the interests of an 11-year-old boy circa 1954 (well, except for the being attracted to your own family part...oh man, I'm calling my therapist now...), I also found out my grandmother's uncle was a master furrier. (Ahem, not a furry, mind you, but a furrier.)

Back in the 1930s when he was in business in San Francisco, he made my grandma a mink stole, which apparently was the hot sh*t back in the day. The thing about this stole, though, compared to some of the more polished and finished items he used to make, was its deconstructed details, like, you know, keeping the heads and paws (with tiny claws!) on.

Dear PETA, I'm vintage. Don't throw paint on me. Toodles!

My mother's response to this item was something like, "Ew. That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. Get it away from me. Now."

My reaction was more along the lines of, "Holy effing sh*t. This is the coolest thing I've ever seen. Let me wear it. Now."

Eat your heart out, Diddy.

Thanks to the awesomeness that is my grandma, I now own this. I can't wait to hand out Butt Paste while wearing this.

Unfortunately, my Butt Paste'n'fur escapade will have to wait as I am in Las Vegas for the week. I'm going for "work" (shady!), but will hopefully be spending most of my time practicing Golden Touch Dice Control. Anyway, long story short less long, my blog droppings might be a little scarce this week, but I'll try. After all, next to DC, Las Vegas might be the Shambles P.I. capital of the world. It's like an extra-strength blog laxative.

Wish me luck!


Cyndy said...

Well you were in Arkansas, after all. Isn't that kind of a western version of West Virginia?

My grandmother kept one of those fox stoles in her cedar chest. It had very realistic brown eyes and its "mouth" could bite a little kid's finger pretty hard. I used to be just a little afraid of it. But it was fun to wear!

I-66 said...

Incest is... um... perfectly normal, Goose.

LivitLuvit said...

The eyes on that thing are terrifying. You should totally rock it in Adams Morgan.

Greg Szeto said...

that thing is amazing. does it come back to life and cannibalize its own during full moons?

Dave B. said...

Does the pickle jar thing work?

Cyndy said...

Also, your grandpa is hot!

maryjanejeff said...

Gambling, I gambled a bit in Colorado last week, well a couple of plays of $1 slot games. Can you call that gambling?


It's limited stakes gambling in Colorado, that's probably all I'd do in the future but it was pretty fun.

maryjanejeff said...

oops I forgot - I've got a great story about limited stakes bingo near Tulsa. It involved a certain someone not really knowing the rules and making a fool out of himself. I wonder if I should tell it or make it a blog entry.

luscious leo said...

If you remember Leo's Halloween party (which you probably wouldn't because you made just the hippest of cameos) Mrs. Peacock was wearing one of those minks, which actually happens to be Leo-owned. I also consider it an heirloom. And have named them Minky and Maureen. Although on mine, the minks are locked in a slightly more intimate, head-to-butt embrace. If ya know what Leo's sayin'.

Marissa said...


"Used to be?" You mean it is still fun to wear.


Hey, I stipulated that I would have to be of a different lineage!


I don't know. I don't think I want to risk some douchebag throwing up on it. Or for that matter, risk some douchebag getting close enough to me to spew on it. Gross.


Hmm...I'll let you know when the time comes.


I hope so! I still plan on doing this.


As long as you're not playing penny slots, I will respect you. And bingo is TIGHT.


Leo is a sly, sick son of a bitch. I would love to see Leo in a mink.

maryjanejeff said...

no penny slots for me, this had a $1 minimum although you got to choose how many lines you wanted to bet. i chose numbers at random until I broke even.