You and I clearly are kindred spirits. My friend Nick mentioned your Museum of Curiosities as a place to check out the next time I was in London. In fact, he specifically said this:
It looks like how I imagine the inside of your head looks.
Well, he’s not wrong.
My head is filled with flotsam and jetsam, much like your museum.
In fact, your website celebrates the lack of categorization as part of the mission.
This museum will merely display everything that has glittered & caught the eye of it’s founder.
I just want to take a moment to recognize your genius. Where else can a jar of Amy Winehouse’s poop live alongside some terrible taxidermy?
As I was able to visit recently, here are some visual aids for readers who think I’m kidding:
This is pretty bad, even as bad taxidermy goes.
And part of Amy outside her music lives on.
BFs 4EVA!
It must be weird to be a celebrity whose detritus is museum worthy.
There is plenty going on in this case. Almost too much for intake.
Id like to copy edit the museum mission statement, but I won’t. Here it is with all its charm intact:
The Museum has no overreaching aim beyond the theft of it’s visitors time and the hope that it will provide amusement by return & hopes to fill the vacuum between what the establishment elite believes is worthy of worship & what exists in the world.
Good news: It did ABSOLUTELY provide amusement. This is exactly the sort of place that provides a perfect afternoon for me.
Thanks for hanging out with me at the AEW event Wednesday night. I know it won’t be long before the last thing you want to do is hang out with your mom.
To be honest, though, not many of the moms we know would want to watch professional wrestling. Er, RASSLIN’ (as it is known in the South).
(You know, if I knocked out some of my teeth, this and the taxidermy would give me the redneck trifecta. You would never know I had a doctoral degree. Yes, I know I’m stereotyping.)
But you and I have watched AEW since it started last year. We HAD to see it live.
Luckily, we like the same characters.
Jungle Boy (i.e., Luke Perry’s kid), Luchasaurus and Marko Stunt (Jurassic Express)? Yes.
Sammy Guevara, who always has his tongue out? Hell no.
Our seats were decent, and we got to sit in a group of folks who were ALL IN for Moxley and Hangman Page, whose beer-grabbing is killing us (in a good way).
When they chanted, “This is AWESOME,” we did too.
When they chanted “Asshole” as Wardlow appeared for the cage match against Cody Rhodes (oh the cage match), we didn’t. You’re 13.
When one dude behind us shouted to Rhodes getting his butt whooped in the cage match,” Do less of that!,” we laughed.
We both marveled at Rhodes’ epic finish.
It was a great night watching men in panties fight each other.
I’m so glad we spent it together.
I’ll meet you on the couch for AEW Wednesday night, unless you have baseball practice.
Love,
Mama
At the Marta station, we spotted the lucky fan who scored the shirt Cody Rhodes ripped off his body.
Warning: This post contains graphic images of a dead animal.
Dear Eddie, Dominic and Gideon,
Thank you so much for giving me the best Christmas gift ever: a taxidermy class at Rainy Day Revival down the street. It is the gift that keeps on giving, as I learned two things:
I really like practicing the art of taxidermy and not just admiring it.
It appears I’m good at it.
You know I’ve been trying to take a taxidermy class for years — since before we moved to Atlanta. The ones at Graveface kept getting cancelled as they didn’t fill up.
Not so with the RDR one: It sold out quickly.
Revell, the man in charge of my hair, and I have similar interests. His boyfriend bought him a seat in the class for Christmas too!
We practically rushed into the room as soon as it opened. Revell chose a fluffy black bunny, so I picked the one across for convenience.
The instructor, Nina, had us start with painting or staining our plaques. Then we had to massage our still-partially frozen yet “ethically sourced” rabbit. (No, I don’t know what that means. Various websites say various things. I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.)
Here’s my rabbit, Roger (of course), lying in state — massaged and thawed.
Next we had to turn our rabbits inside out to remove the skull.
You would think this would be gross, but all the Borax we put on them helped dry things out. Plus, you know I watch plenty of medical and forensic reality shows.
Nina came by to check on progress and gave me props for not popping the eyes and keeping my lids intact.
See! I’m a natural!
Nina then announced this, which is something I never thought I’d hear:
Once you take your face off, stop: We’re going to take a break.
So we took a break.
Revell and I had fun with our gross puppets.
After the break, we made a new skull out of the kind of foam stuff that goes in the bottom of funeral arrangements. Apropos, no?
Roger starts to look more like himself again.
But see how his nose is a little mushed in? I got the bright idea to plump it up with some clay. Nina’s mom, who helps with the classes, was skeptical. Then she saw the end result.
Oh! You were totally right! That looks much better.
I’m an artist, I tell you.
Once we were done, we lingered in the shop waiting for Nina to mount them on our plaques. (Power tools + expertise = much quicker to get through all 30)
I had plenty of time to admire the wares — and dream of bigger projects.
Finally, Roger and I were reunited.
It will be two weeks until he “cures” completely and his bandages come off.
And you three will be forced to look at enjoy him in a place of pride at home.
So thank you for this gift. I had a great time, and I’m proud of myself.
I know you worked overtime with my sons. Each has a girlfriend.
Dominic has been with Anica a little while — long enough to get into trouble for skipping class to kiss her in the multipurpose room at school.
(The phone call with the assistant principal was mortifying for both of us.)
Now he wants to take it to the next level.
Um.
Not just no. HELL no.
I have to hand it to him: He was brave to ask.
But not THAT brave as he asked his father, not me.
Thankfully, Gideon is still in the kiddie pool. But he’s practicing his strokes.
Oh.
My.
God.
🙄
Right?!
This is new — very new — for him. In fact, it almost didn’t happen.
Him: There’s a girl at school who likes me. Me: Yeah? Do you like her? Him: Yeah. Me (Spidey senses tingling): So what’s the problem? Him: I don’t know if I have time for a girlfriend with jujitsu and baseball and homework. Me: Well, just talk to her about it. Let her know. Him: Okay.
(Waits a beat.) Him: I’m glad I can talk to you about relationship stuff.
Anyway, you did your thing. And now I have to do my mom thing — the thing where I notice everything but pretend not to, let alone say anything.
They’re feral cats: I have to let them come to me.
It was exactly a year ago that you played Smith’s Olde Bar in Atlanta as part of the U.S. leg of your Space Wolf tour — a leg I planned with no prior tour-planning experience.
(Good GOD. WHAT were we thinking? A leap of faith all around.)
One year ago, I badgered all my friends to come hear you play.
Put up with less than I need/deserve/worked for, etc. I am not a “Welcome!” mat.
Save money. Yeah, I know I should, but let’s be honest: I won’t.
Stay home. I want to say “absof–kinlutely” to adventures near and far. Dream scenario: I get paid to write about it.
Continue procrastinating on my book. This is the year I finish it, write the proposal, and find an agent. If E.L. James can become rich and famous off her trashTwilight fan fictionwork, so can I.
Lose more than just five more pounds. I’m calling that my “wine cushion.”
Stay in this place with the small kitchen. When it’s a pain to make things as fairly easy as Scotch eggs, it’s time to upgrade.
Ignore show suggestions from certain like-minded people. I resisted watching “Killing Eve.” I was stupid.
Let people try to make me feel even slightly embarrassed about my love of bad taxidermy. Those uptight people can shove it. My obsession is Hando approved.
Vote for Trump. Duh.
Stop writing blog posts at least twice a week. I’ve been keeping this pace since April, so I’m pretty proud of myself.
What are your anti-resolutions? Tell me in the comments.
I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in person this year. I tried. The line was just too long at Santaland. I had other places to go, and people to see.
(It occurs to me that I’m actually lamenting the fact that I didn’t get to sit on some some old dude’s lap. Holiday traditions are weird.)
As I’ve been (mostly) good, I’m hoping that you can still help me out with my wish list. Items are a little tricky this year, I’m afraid. Not sure the elves can handle these things.
Anyway, here goes:
Some kind of cream that will make the itchy spot on my right eye go away. The dermatologist is stumped. I use the same products on BOTH EYES, but my left eye is fine. Please help. I look like Hitch.
Guests in our Airbnb condo who will actually read and abide by the house rules. It’s not like we are asking for much. Just take the trash out of the place, and send it down the rubbish chute right outside the door. We aren’t asking for gold doubloons as tips or anything. Although …
A money tree would be nice. Have you seen how much Dominic eats? Or how leggy Gideon is getting? At least they can’t wear my shoes anymore, so that means mine stay clean. I promise I will share the harvest with friends and family. Well, most of them.
Expansion of Marta. Or at the very least, a change of heart for the car-focused people of Atlanta who keep voting against it.
People who are driving at or below the speed limit to STAY THE F out of the passing lane. You have a reindeer-powered sleigh. You do not know the horror of I-16.
Another season of “Schitt’s Creek.” Season 6 is supposed to be the last one. But you can make Daniel Levy change his mind, right? RIGHT?!
The ability to speak Spanish, French, German, Italian, Portuguese and Japanese fluently. I dream big, but you’re Santa. It’s not like you are starting from scratch. I’m at toddler levels for the first two. And I know key phrases for the others. Look, you never know when you need to tell a Japanese person that he’s taken the last Band-Aid.
A stop to the entire country of India requesting to add me as a contact on Linked In. I really don’t know anyone in India.
More followers for this blog. It’s not an ego thing (although an audience is great). It’s an expanding-my-circle thing. I’ve met some of the most interesting people via this blog — folks I never would have met otherwise.
Guest posts. I’m still waiting for posts from Julia, Royce, Kerstin, Nick, TJ, etc. I’m not holding my breath, though.
Patience. Lord knows Dominic regularly uses up my limited supply.
Someone to make these for me. I’m a great cook, but kind of a crappy baker.
The cute blue cheetah-print jeans I gave away when I thought I’d be fat forever.
More early-morning water boot camp classes at the Y so that I won’t ever be fat again.
For Origins to bring back the Spring Fever scent. Please! I can’t be the only one who has asked you for this.
I know it’s a tall order. Just do what you can. Thanks, Santa! I appreciate you.
Just look at this screenshot of my Dry January app.
Yeah. It’s called Dry January, but it tracks drinking for the whole year. My wino friend Goat Yoga Lisa suggested it. (The icon is a cup of tea, not a duck. British developers, I guess.)
It wasn’t just last month, though. Here’s October:
Oct. 5 was an ill-advised night out.
Oct. 19 was the Decatur Brew Fest.
Oct. 24 was the Big Freedia concert (one beer).
Oct. 28 was a glass of wine after a spectacularly difficult day at work.
My life has been kind of great without you.
Coffee and water are good company.
I’m not sure how long I’ll want to stay away from you and your friend liquor, though. Christmas is coming up, and I love a good spiked eggnog.
So I decided to see for myself. It was indeed slimy. And cold.
