It’s been a while since we broke out of New England but we did so last week for a few VERY BUSY days! The following two weeks will likely all be blog entries from said trip so enjoy as I milk this adventure to death. Our destination was North Carolina but that’s a hell of a drive so we decided to stop halfway through to get a chocolate fix and maybe a few giggles.
For some reason I had no idea Hershey Park was a theme park. I thought it was some sort of boring educational park… with chocolate (which if I’m honest makes everything better.) I was a little shocked to see a closed theme park with enough parking lots to cover a small town. The gift shop was open, I was being told. OKAY…
The gift shop was indeed open and full of people with their small children. It was a little weird… who comes all this way for a gift shop? Even myself was more here looking for a bathroom. I’m a creature of simple needs, what can I say? After we found the rest rooms we wandered back into the shops, plural. One had mugs and bric-a-bracs, the other chocolate. So much chocolate. And we had come at the right time of year as there was Easter candy marked down as well as other goodies including Reeses peanut butter cups the size of a child’s head for $5. And if that wasn’t enough there was a long line for people making their own peanut butter cup with whatever fillings they wanted kind of like a sundae bar. Those were expensive though and the line was more than I wanted to deal with. Instead I grabbed a Nutrageous which my companion told me was the best and a package of caramel chocolates which I had no idea Hershey even made. I was also surprised to learn they also owned Twizzlers and Jolly Ranchers. It was fun finding weird flavors of all these things!
We did eventually find an educational display, wandered through it like it was the most fascinating thing on earth, and eventually ended up at a free ride! It was on moving ground… which… made for a very not graceful entrance on my part. Imagine a dog trying to stand in the car and that’s probably about as much balance I had as I plopped into the cart. We then got to ride through a fake factory and see the whole process of how chocolate was made, narrated by animatronic cows and various other critters. It was all very cutesy and I was a little embarrassed at points as it was making me dizzy. Christ, I can’t even handle toddler rides any more. This is getting ridiculous. Don’t age, it’s not fun! But by the end we were rewarded with a free bite size chocolate bar which I felt like I’d earned.
This was a fun little stop off with clean bathrooms! We got our fix of sweets and wandered out maybe half an hour later after peering through the gates to the closed theme park side of things. There’s few things as creepy as abandoned carnival rides without a soul in sight. I approve. Not sure how I’d feel about it if I were there during the season but eh. It was all good.
My companion’s interest in military history is not one I share and if I am to be brutally honest this is not a destination I would have chosen on my own. Though I respect that WWII happened I didn’t really feel like spending an afternoon reminding myself what shitheads the human race can be especially when my faith in it has already been floundering. But sometimes you just take one for the team… and end up pleasantly surprised.
When we drove up there was a sign for a cobbler sharing the window with the museum entrence posters. My companion looked at me and inquired, “Is this going to be another Titanic Museum, tucked away in the back room behind a shop?” There was only one way to find out.
Inside we were immediately welcomed by multiple staff members (i.e. this place wasn’t run by some lone weirdo out of his basement, which is sorta what I was expecting…) Apparently this place was actually run by a bunch of documentarians who had done a crap-ton of documentaries on various subjects relating to World War II. Some of them were playing as we walked through, others were being offered on a free DVD for patronizing the museum. We were asked if we wanted a guide and we said that was alright, we can poke around by our lonesome. We were then led through the screamy machine (otherwise known as a metal detector.) Not 100% sure if that was to prevent nutjobs from bringing in weapons or sneaking out with them… either way I was only armed with a purse with a metal zipper and had no desire whatsoever to cuddle a grenade within it.
This is when we were met with an army of mannikins, all dressed in various uniforms from the era representing different countries. As I looked closer I noticed some of the mannikins had fake eye lashes on them and one had a Sharpie doodled mustache that was supposed to look like Clarke Gable. I couldn’t contain my snicker at this and of course that’s when a teenage boy appeared, asking us if we’d like a guide. At first we politely declined but then he told us he could “set some things off” if we wanted, a phrase that wasn’t in any way alarming. With raised eye brows and no sense of personal safety we relented and let the teenage boy bring out a big noise maker which he wound until it whirred and screamed. Cool.
I may have wandered off at this point to do some subtle poking on my own. I found a small collection of photos that were the aftermath of the Holocaust. Just stacks of emaciated dead bodies. Honestly, I was expecting more of these soul-crushing images but instead I was met more with a gentle curiosity as in the same area there was a display of folk art made by concentration camp prisoners. For me this is where the connection is, where you find the humanity in the clouds of cruelty. I wandered back to my companion and the guide boy just as he was pointing out Blondie the German Shepard’s diamond swastika bedazzled collar. She belonged to Hitler. I wondered what she did in a previous life to deserve that. “So we’re sending you back to earth as man’s best friend.” “Awesome!” “And your man will be Hitler.” “Seriously?!” As you can see I have taken it upon myself to be ahead of the censors and cover all the swastikas here on out with a begrudgingly AI created poodle because despite having drawn a weekly comic for two and a half years I apparently have forgotten everything I ever learned about how to operate illustration software. SIGH.
After this we wandered with our youthful guide through various rooms with him handing us various grenades, shells, and other implements of war. Eventually we stopped by a mannikin of a Romanian woman in “camouflage” which looked remarkably similar to a floral bedspread. I joked to my companion, with my usual deadpan expression, “It’s not working.” This completely threw our poor guide off as he squeaked, “Why would you say that?” “because I can still see her… I was being silly…” At this point our guide started breathing again and apologized saying he’s autistic and sometimes doesn’t get jokes. I should have probably said it’s OK, I’m also autistic and remember very much what it was like being your age and constantly confused but I didn’t. I just smiled. That’s really all the spoons I had at that moment.
After this our guide got to talking about all sorts of things completely unrelated – horror movies, Disney rides, zombies. Apparently we’d gained his trust. And when we got back on track? Well, that’s when things kinda devolved a bit. First we noticed a heinously racist poster and read it… it was a grotesquely caracturized Japanese man thanking the US troops for not wearing condoms and spreading VD. I guess our guide boy, who had been familiar with most things here, had never looked that hard at this really messed up piece of satire. Honestly, the most racist relics I’ve ever come across on our travels always tend to be anti-Japanese propaganda from WWII. Our boy stuttered a bit as I just commented it was almost as uncomfortable to look as the Donald Duck reel telling soldiers about the horrors of venereal disease.
This wouldn’t be the first or the last time we gave our guide a run for his money. In another room he showed us plastic leeches and snakes hanging off one jungle-beaten manniken but I saw something more interesting peering down at us from a case above my head: a little brick-a-brac of a gleeful infant riding a bomb. “Why is there a baby riding a bomb?” “What? Oh my god, I never noticed that before. What does it say on it?” I looked back at my photo. It read, “Hatched in the USA.” This did not make it any better. More nervous laughter.
Then things really toppled into the weird as we found a case befitting a collection from the Shame Wizard. I’d always though that Nazi dildos were a joke. Nope… here we were face to face with a distressingly wooden dildo with Hitler’s face carved into it. Guess there’s something for everyone here I muttered under my breath. Personally, I couldn’t figure out if the obscene shape of it was more offensive or the fact it could give you splinters. Maybe you’d deserve splinters for that one, I don’t know. I couldn’t help but think about that one manniken in a SS uniform with this crazy shocked expression on his face. I feel like he knew.
And onward we continued to a whole corner of anti-Hitler folk art and propaganda. Really odd things over there, including a little Hitler manniken that our guide boy said no one knew much about but he supposed it was broken because the hand on it was not in the correct position for the Nazi salute it was attempting. This is where us oldies started to feel a bit bad because we couldn’t not tell this poor boy that no, this doll was not broken. It was giving a limp-wristed salute quite purposely. “Oooooh! Like he’s… gay?! I did NOT know that!” Course, then my companion couldn’t help pointing out the pin cushion shaped like Hitler bending over with pins jutting out of his ass. I sighed as the guide boy had another epiphany. This train was thoroughly derailed. And never have I felt older or queerer than in this moment. But I suppose there are worse things.
After this we cycled through on our own again noting different things other than the artillery we got to handle with our guide. I really appreciated a cute little summer dress apparently made by a French woman out of a food supplies parachute. One point for resourceful upcycling. And so we concluded our tour.
After having a delightful breakfast at the Bluebird Cafe we wandered the plaza and decided to check out the Picture This Framing Center and Gallery which had some absolutely wonderful art in their front window that looked like it was from local artists. All sorts of seascapes, some with krakens which really filled me with such joy. I mean the beach is fun buuut a beach with a kraken is way more exciting! And such a delightful conversation starter to hang on your wall!
Now I don’t have money… or walls I can hang art on… but I needed to go in. This place was small but so goddamn cute. The staff asked us if we needed help right away but we were keen to just be nosey on our own. There was indeed a framing station behind all the art and a nook full of weird and wonderful greeting cards. And at the cashier’s desk I was thrilled to find a bunch of locally written books about the area. I picked one up called The Monkey’s Fist which I assure you is far more PG than it sounds. It was about one man’s life working the ferry that goes to Block Island.
“Have you been to Block Island?”
“No…. it’s on my list though!”
“Oh! You’ll never want to come back!”
High praise indeed. I managed to read the first couple chapters so far and a monkey’s fist is apparently a very seriously heavy knot. You learn something every day! This place was adorable. Should I ever get my dream of a home of my own I will definitely return and request a kraken print or painting. No bathroom is complete without one.
This is going to sound absolutely bonkers but a few winters ago I was driving at night past Kellie’s Cafe and I saw a velociraptor in the parking lot. A fucking life-size dinosaur was just chilling there on a trailer at 3am. Now, I know from previous instances in my life that it’s best not to ask questions buuuut the next morning the damn velociraptor was gone and I was left wondering what glitch in the matrix I’d just witnessed. I made note of which parking lot it was and kept this story to my damn self until over a year later my companion excitedly explained there was a life-size bronze velociraptor living in the yard at Aardvark Antiques just down the road. I KNEW IT!! I DID SEE A DINOSAUR!
What does this have to do with the little British cafe whose parking lot was once infested with prehistoric beasts? Not much. I doubt they had any idea. But seeing as I now knew about this place why not check it out? I like British things… especially Doctor Who. Fucking love Doctor Who. This place had a big old Britishly colored teapot as it’s sign outside so this seemed like good indication it’d be interesting…
Inside the cafe was absolutely tiny with only a few tables. Two servicemen and a single English dude were the only customers here on this particular day. We made our way in quietly and sat down while looking at the back wall which had a HUGE teacup display behind a life size cut out of the queen. I mean I get it, I know y’all have a king now but he has the charisma of a frozen cod fish soooo… I’ll accept this weird tribute to the former queen. My English friend tells me this is customary and everyone has one to mutter loyalties to once a day. Pretty sure he’s fucking with me there.
ANYWAY… we were tended to by a sweet lady whose accent sounded American for a few sentences and then not so much. Cracked me up. I love British accents. She offered us tea with our breakfast and I accepted. My companion stuck to coffee. We looked over the menu and realized there was fun options here to play with. A Full English Breakfast was one. My companion took that. I on the other hand I was morbidly curious about the Scotch Egg. I’d seen one being eaten on Broadchurch and heard people talking about them several times since but my grasp of what it actually was was…. poor. One way to find out! Our hostess seemed delighted I wanted to try one and she asked if my companion would like the blood pudding with his English breakfast at which point I think his brain shuttered. He struggled to answer for a moment but then said no. I on the other hand would have said yes to the iron-addled hockey puck I assume to be blood pudding. You only live once after all. And “you have to have blood pudding” says the guy who claims everyone has a cardboard cutout of the queen. (I know this entire blog entry screams unreliable narrator but I swear to god…)
My companion was very happy with his full English breakfast which he found to be very filling. I stole some of his beans which I remarked were tomato-y because British baked beans are different than Boston baked beans which rely on molasses. Still, they tasted good and I think our odd conversation was being listened to by everyone else here, especially when I received the Scottish egg and set about dissecting it for science. Mind you, it was egg-shaped and I supposed an actual egg, but that says very little doesn’t it? I cut it in half with a knife I stole from my companion (as my tomato sandwich did not require cutlery.) Inside was indeed a hard-boiled egg. On the outside it seemed to be some sort of sausage-filled batter, deep fried of course. It was filling! And I guess great for shoving in your pockets for later if you happen to work in a Victorian coal mine. I do not. And I’m not the biggest fan of sausage or hard-boiled eggs but that being said it wasn’t bad and I’m happy I tried it. I’m also happy I figured out how to use the odd plate and utensil that came with my tea. I hope the weird stick/spoon thing was to retrieve my tea bag because that’s what I used it for. I have to thank anyone who has ever called me “worldly” because I am 100% faking knowing anything. Please do not leave me unsupervised.
Finally, we ended our little meal and went to the counter which was apparently a danger zone because it was covered in English sweets. Chocolate covered digestives, Turkish delights, Jaffa cakes, numerous candy bars and the like. We took some home to keep on experimenting. I’ve never actually had a digestives with my tea… will it kick it up a notch? Guess we’ll see!
**One super vague partial spoiler in this review**
It’d been a while since we had gone to an escape room and this one in Boston had some glowing reviews. Though I admit I loathe driving (and parking!) in Boston I was content to try this escape room partially because we got there via train which was… so much easier.
Anyway! Due to our quick arrival, we were early and had time to mull about in the sleet and rain for a bit, peering in the window before sauntering off to fill our bellies and come back. The waiting room in this place had big windows facing the street and they had several high tables with various puzzles to play with while we waited. The staff was quite frankly adorable, enthusiastic about working here, and very friendly. When our time came up we were escorted to the elevators and given directions how to get where we needed to go.
We had chosen the Writer’s Secret room which can take up to 75 minutes with 3-5 players. The website describes it as “immersive and adaptive.” On this day we had three players, as a fourth was home with a bad back. Getting old sure is fun…
We were told we could take photos, I chose not to as this was a particularly whimsical room and I didn’t want to ruin the magic. The premise was we needed to help an author come up with ideas for her next book by examining clues in the room which turned out to be a hallway and three rooms besides. Obviously, we started in the hallway at the writing desk and I actually understood the puzzle! That never happens. I’m actually quite bad at puzzles and a bit of a dead weight in these exercises. I will note however one of the best features of this room was the lack of math. I can really get behind that.
It didn’t take long for my companions to find the other puzzles and start working on them as I followed quietly behind. The first room had a marine theme to it and was kinda cute. At one point I was told the shell was whispering secrets. When I asked what the hell that meant he just repeated his sentence as if it wasn’t complete Gibberish. This meant nothing to me. It meant nothing to the other player either. And that’s why this puzzle probably took the longest.
The three rooms were an ocean room, a weird fairy nook, and a smelting room. There was only one combination lock, the rest of the puzzles resulted in actions that’d give you the next step to a different puzzle. It was indeed very immersive with a lot of thuds and bangs coming from other rooms when we solved something! I particularly enjoyed the smelting furnace which took a “gold” brick and returned a key. I just found that cute.
This may have been my favorite escape room to date, if not definitely in the top three. I loved the whimsy, the lack of math and numbered locks (which I feel other rooms rely way too much on,) and just how very Rube Goldberg-y this whole set up felt. We solved the room with more than twenty minutes to spare but did have to ask for two hints. Begrudgingly.
Mystic Aquarium has been on my bucket list for a few years now. Everyone I talked to seemed to rave about it saying it was better than the Boston Aquarium. The only issues were that I didn’t really want to go during the summer season when I was sure it’d be packed and I also wasn’t sure the $41 per adult ticket fee was reasonable. I mean, that’s a lot, especially for someone like me who likes to blog destinations that are accessible even to the poorest of people, *cough cough* myself. But you know, there comes a day for everything.
It was the dead of winter, there was snow on the ground, the sky was gray and the temperatures were let’s just say nippy in the 20s. We figured this would mean the aquarium would be more or less dead and we could wander around like the soul survivors of a zombie apocalypse. But alas no!
When we drove up the entire parking lot was FULL with numerous cars circling trying to find a spot. I wandered into overflow parking which was also almost at capacity. We parked, looked incredulously at each other, and started to walk towards the ticket master which it appears has been replaced with a self sign-in kiosk. Probably for the best. We weren’t even in the gates yet and we were swarmed on all sides by dozens and dozens of babies and toddlers, accompanied by their mums, scarcely a dad in sight. No children seemingly over the age of five and so many of them all bundled up in tiny parkas wandering around in the cold and the gloom. What was going on?!
I’ve been to the Boston Aquarium many times (before it’s somewhat recent renovations) and I naively thought aquariums were indoor facilities. Not this time. We waddled up to the first large outdoor tank which held three beluga whales. I’ve never seen a beluga whale before and they… looked like rubbery marshmallows with weird blubbery heads. I struggled to figure out if they were adorable or only a face a mother could love. Two swam around while a third was vertical and lazily drifting from the bottom to the top, to the bottom again. Weird.
Somewhat embarrassingly I still don’t have a coat at this point in my life (after getting too plump to fit in my all-time favorite coat and then declaring I was not going to buy another one, I was just going to lose the weight! Ha! I’m just as pale and chonky as those damn belugas now. And unrepentant about it.) So, I stuffed my hands in my sweater sleaves and continued on. Boy, was I surprised how much of the aquarium is outside! There was a lot! Belugas, sea lions, seals, walruses, and even penguins. Each had a volunteer attempting to tell us about the animals but I think they were just as overwhelmed by this bizarre massive influx of toddlers as we were. They seemed tired and just narrated in monotone, “And that’s Stella there… the one who just came to the surface…And now she’s gone back down again…” Very informative.
The penguins were my favorite of these outdoor enclosures because they were cute and I didn’t feel like they’d rip me to shreds if I accidentally tumbled into their enclosure. I wasn’t so sure about the seals and whatnot. Those things had massive teeth and moved through the water with a disturbing quickness. Sea puppy my ass, those are just wet Shutzhunds.
I was quite content to be moving indoors after this. As we walked in there was a circular tank just within the door with what I would guess were saltwater fish who were “donated” to the aquarium when they got too big or expensive to maintain by private owners. Later on, I’d see a full-grown Achilles Tang and be in total shock. Never knew they got that big! YIKES.
From here there were all sorts of tanks with various kinds of fish and habitats. There was one poor woman (my companion thinks a volunteer) nervously following the swarm of tiny people, a rag in one hand frantically wiping the boogers and apple sauce off the glass as if she thought it might be acid. Germaphobe? Overstimulated staff? Who knows! But whatever they were paying her it wasn’t enough.
I was happy to see all sorts of fish and critters I’d never seen before. Big fish, little fish, fresh water fish, marine fish. A shark and stingray touch tank was nearby. I pondered if they could catch measles. I hoped not. In any event there were colorful cichlids, charismatic Amazonian fish, and a surprising amount of non-fish critters which included some huge crabs, a spiny lobster, the cutest damn frogs I could have possibly asked for, and of course a few turtles scattered about as well as a few lizards and creepy crawlies. I could probably park myself in front of one of these tanks for a while and just relax… if it weren’t for all the crying and screaming. I did find one mother with her baby doing just that. She was talking about the octopus although it was unclear if she was narrating to her baby or trying to talk to us, the only other unoccupied adults. I get it. Being a single mom is HARD and often very very lonely. I commented the octopus was pretty neat and I think it was funny he had a dog toy in his pen.
From here my companion insisted we see the sea lion show. OK… It wasn’t any additional charge, we just had to be there on time. So we wandered in and took a seat in what would end up being a pretty damn full gallery. The humans in this performance bounced out with the energy of a highly caffeinated children’s TV host and the kids ATE IT UP. The premise of the show was that there was a mission to be accomplished with the help of the kiddies in the audience. They yelled on command and did little poses. It was kind of heartwarming and adorable.
There were three seals performing that day and they were enthusiastically silly, jumping, swimming, striking poses, shaking their weird rubbery dog heads yes and no, retrieving props and waving, you know, all the classics. I laughed with the children. It was all very sweet and had an anti-global warming message which… these days it’s just nice to see science out in the open without being screamed at by a flat earthers or whatever.
After the show we wandered back out, saw the tanks we had not yet seen, and decided to try the additional bonus exhibit which this month was Sea Dinosaurs. What? I get to see dinosaurs too?? Yes please! This was an additional $15 a person. We paid and wandered in. The ceiling was decorated with big replicas of fossil sea creatures – mostly ammonites. Inside the main hall there was what I can only describe as a scrabbling course for children which put them in harnesses and let them climb on platforms and tightropes above the crowd. If I were three feet tall I would have been ALL OVER THAT. I sighed at my cracking joints and lamented that youth is wasted on the young.
We wandered about for a while finding a self photo booth with megalodon jaws, a projector sand pit, and some sort of weird psychedelic acid trip of a thing that made our dancing silhouettes into a mass of crazy colors in real time. That was fun. Really fed my inner child. Again, I probably would have poked more at these if it wasn’t such a busy and chaotic day for the aquarium. People tend to look at adults funny when they cheekily decide to play too, though I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this and do believe the world would be a better place with more whimsy and less taking ourselves so seriously.
And so that was our trip to the aquarium. We left laughing but kind of exhausted to go to an old haunt Mystic Pizza for lunch. It never disappoints.
This week was another amazing food find. We were on the road searching for a birthday present (which proved stupidly hard to find) when we decided to stop at a new place for a late breakfast. This place said it served breakfast until 3pm. That’s my kinda eatery.
A day earlier my companion was teasing me because I said I rarely crave sweets but my usual choices for breakfasts suggested otherwise. I protested these were not cravings but whims. And despite the fact this place had a slew of more reasonable options I couldn’t help to go glassy-eyed with wonder when our waitress started rattling off their breakfast specials from the day. I couldn’t keep any of them straight but they sounded like the most whimsically deranged breakfast themed dessert cart one could dream up. Oreos were mentioned as were chocolate chips, a variety of sticky sweet syrups, and even cinnobuns. My resolve was tested and it suffered a resounding failure as I ordered the stuffed Cinnabon French toast. My companion on the other hand chose a more savory option, the Hamilton Kitchen Sink which came out looking like a garbage plate (and I say that with love, not judgement.) It was a pancake, bacon, sausage, eggs, a biscuit, and a truck load of home fries smothered in white gravy. We’re both very chosey with homefries but I’m happy to note I tried one with gravy and it was goddamn delicious to the both of us.
Meanwhile my plate was a war crime to diabetes but ahhhhhh, it was so good! The cinnobuns were made into French toast, stuffed with cream cheese and jam and topped with a truly indecent amount of whipped cream. I didn’t even have to put any syrup on it.
Our waitress joked it could be made better with chocolate chips. If I had only had a tiny white flag to wave back at her. I ate most my meal, was stuffed to the gills and couldn’t take on the last few bites but wow. Do I regret my heart challenging option? Nah, no other place has made me want to yell ‘you only live once’ like this place! I have learned nothing.
So it’s been a tick since I have stopped by this blog. Back in the autumn a deer decided to pick a fight with my car and it’s been in the shop for months and I… have been taking a bit of a involuntary hiatus. But this week I did get out for a much needed little jaunt.
The Find on 6 is a consignment and antique store that features a main shop and one big room off of it which was clearly a greenhouse at some point. It was easy to find and charming. Everything was displayed very well and the prices COULD NOT BE BEAT. Seriously, they were beyond affordable. I found two baby blue couches with two matching chairs, all tufted and in great condition. The couch was FORTY EIGHT DOLLARS (after the 26th, but starting at SIXTY-FIVE which is still insanely affordable!!) The chairs were cheaper! I have never wanted to rescue something so bad in my life. But alas! I do not own a Victorian home with a parlour, or a car big enough to fit a couch. Life is just not fair sometimes. So instead of rescuing this adorable living room set I instead let it live in my fantasies when I’m daydreaming about running my own tropical fish store. The couches will be in front of the big display tanks because I believe firmly in building community and encouraging “the slow life.”
The rest of the shop had a fun mix of weird things – a pile of books from a local author, some delightfully bizarre and unique bric-a-bracs and dish wear, a series of items that defied identification, a mimeograph, lots of roosters, and a series of very nice kitchen knives for cheap. I would have likely bought one of those if I didn’t JUST get a good knife for Christmas. I did buy the book about Rhode Island by a local author. One never knows if such things can’t be further inspiration for travels.
I am making a note to come back here if I ever have a house to see what they have for quirky furniture. This place was awesome.
We weren’t able to make all of Saturdays activities but we showed up in enough time to catch quite a few of them. Luckily for me traffic was waaay better and we got there early enough to catch a bite to eat without having to eat it while jogging like the day before. I also got to see a gondolah and a deaf couple having an increasingly intense argument with sign language on our walk there. Those were firsts for me.
The vendors were still set up with T-shirts and happily chatted with patrons, the ticket seller remembered us from the day before. I mulled over a sweet little button-up shirt with a cthulhu on it but it was $50 and I realize since getting fat (and growing a stupidly pendulous set of boobs) that cute button ups are best left in my youthful days of thin androgyny. Now if I get a button up shirt that’s half a size too small my boobs are peering through make-shift windows between the buttons and buy one too large and suddenly I’m swimming in a trash bag. Annoying. Curvy people like being cute too.
ANYWAY, once we got in I looked around at an audience that was a couple times the size of the previous day although the theater was far from packed. They were however enthusiastic, even if small in number.
On this night we got to watch several blocks of shorts and a feature film. They were as follows:
Onan’s Harvest: I would have titled this Something Pagan This Way Comes. Just a lot of creatures, and masks, and weird magic in the woods.
After the Fall: Maybe it’s the state of the world today but this one seemed a metaphor for living under fascism via a be-tenticled sky creature.
Triangle: Which was actually a pyramid but I won’t be pedantic. Nothing like basing an entire short on a locked pyramid shaped box with floaty numbers and an attached warning from the village witch.
Five-Star: I’m really scratching my head on this one as I remember absolutely nothing from it. The blurb of it reads, “A diligent locksmith is on a quest for a five star review.” Soooo…. I’m guessing he failed but whose to say! Not me. *nervous chuckle*
Observer: A classic space horror, watching the last memories of a deceased crew.
A Serpent’s Touch: The only thing I remember about this one was the font was so weird I thought it said A Serpent’s Couch. The blurb reads, “In 16th century England Tennebris and his son mourn the passing of the family matriarch.”
The Second Grimoire: Evil books take hold of the minds of those who keep them.
Feature Film: Daemons. This one was a fun throw back to 70’s acid tripping horror, though it takes place in the modern day and is a little more socially conscious. A real We’re All Mad Here kinda film.
Shorts of Madness was the next block which is always a crowd favorite as it is the humor shorts.
Taylor and the Strange John. Is John a frequenter of prostitutes or a toilet? That was my question. The former. Crude but in a mildly shocking giggle kind of way. It’s nice to see a tip of the hat to the working girls.
Sea Legs: Pirate brothels have never been so tenticle-y.
Fisher of Men: A classic hillbilly show down with the opponent being a swamp monster. Quirky simplistic humor that really worked. This one had me laughing pretty hard.
Dry January: A comedy about being a college age fuck-up and deciding to go sober… which for some reason includes a very up-chucky crab man. 🦀
Burned Cans for Aluminum Children: Fun with Play-D’oh! Stupidly cute/funny.
Gusti the Strong vs The Merman: This one is 100% silly. Does not take itself one iota seriously. But still absolutely hilarious. A real joy to watch.
And that was this year’s wrap-up for me although there were several things going on Sunday that we didn’t make it to.
Its that time of year again, time to brandish some scary T-shirts and join the other lovable weirdoes at the H P Lovecraft film festival. This year has been BRUTAL. Things are bleak and we are already feeling like we’re living through a horror movie. Still, it was a MUCH needed break to attend this year. Curiously traffic was horrendous getting into Providence so we ended up late, scarfing down some fast food while jogging to the RISD. We made it just on time, though one of our companions had to relinquish the burning hot fries he had failed to eat while jogging. No food in the theater.
It was a small but dedicated crowd this year. On this night we got to see a block of horror shorts followed by a 40th Anniversary viewing of the ever-grusome satirical cult classic Re-Animator followed by a Q & A with the screen writer, which was for me more entertaining than I anticipated.
The shorts were as follows:
The Outsider: A three minute animation making it’s US debute from Canada. This one showed the struggles of a lonely cyclops just trying to find their people with a comical twist ending.
Stargazer: Answers the question what if stars could come to earth as people and seduce socially fucked up astronomers.
Undertone: I think I was mentally somewhere else for the entire 13 minutes of this one. Despite this being yesterday I remember exactly nothing of it. SORRY.
The Music of Erich Zann: A recently restored 1980’s short depicting how music can drive you mad. Cosmically mad. Ahhhhhhh.
Where the Shadows Feast: This one wasn’t just horror but also a film noir with a black male lead and I must say, I am all here for that. He did a great job and the “shadows” were effectively scary/unnerving which is a high compliment coming from me. Generally I just find horror monsters hilarious… which I think is why people keep looking at me with recognition. Oh, the psycho laugher is back. 😬
The Itch: If ever there were a horror concept I’d be intimately aware of it’d be this. I’ve itched off layers of skin on many occasions and have had yeast infections so angry its made me want to fuck a wad of steel wool. I have not however accidentally killed myself itching too hard. This one had a fun rivalry and a couple twists.
Thrift Store Ouija Board: This one was just super juvenile. Teen girls having a super stupid teen girl spat with the aid of a ouija board. Also if you’re wondering the moving triangle piece on a ouija board is called a planchette. You’re welcome.
And then that brought us to Re-Animator which I’ve seen but apparently repressed 90% of it. The only thing I remembered was the actors. They looked familiar. Sorta. But anyway, it was gorey, gross, and fucked up in that special kind of way that you only see when a group of writers gather around and egg eachother on to write the most depraved thing ever. I respect it for that. I respect it more for adding humor over the top of that. It is however very much a movie of its time with the only woman present a bit of an annoying bobble-headed blonde. There was an attempted rape scene enacted by a decapitated head so that was… just ewe. Honestly, I felt this was more ewe than all the other ewes. And there was a lot of other ewes.
Afterwards the screenwriter Dennis Paoli took questions and talked a little about it. He explained it was a very short run film that only played in a handful of theaters because it was unrated (GEE, I WONDER WHY) and that it gained popularity when it came out on VHS. Now its a cult classic and I’m happy it was never remade. I can deal with 70’s gore but hyper realistic current gore would be too much for me personally. He also accidentally brought the mood of the entire room down by pointing out all the themes in the movie that made it so terrifying – male researchers who don’t know when to stop, the promise of great wealth to potentially evil creations, a broken health care system, humanity’s fear of death, and even the horror of college loans are probably all worse today than 40 years ago. Weren’t we all here to momentarily escape the bleakness of current American living?
Luckily he cheered us all right back up by wandering way off the beaten path and telling us how his theater play version of Peter Pan was banned for nudity. Peter Pan was re-imagined as a hippie, Tinkerbell was his boyfriend, the Indians were replaced with black folk, the pirates were Chicago police, flying was just tripping on acid and the flying scene was both male and female actors dancing naked to In A Gadda Da Vida. “And we didn’t even change the dialogue at all from the origional. It just worked.” And now I want to time travel to see this. I already had a soft spot of fucked up retellings of Peter Pan since I saw an absolutely god awful independant film called Neverland: Never Grow Up, Never Grow Old where Tinkerbell was a user/seller of fairy dust, Neverland was an abandoned amusement park, and Hook was a Pan-obsessed leather bound pedophile. This makes me nostalgic for the independant film era of the 2000s before corporations bought them all out and turned them back to shit. To be fair this entire film festival makes me want to start making my own little films. Probably animation as I don’t have the people skills to successfully convince a handful of “actors” to run through a park acting crazy or whatever I’d need to accomplish such a task. My creative mind is still aching to play, even as the rest of me is crushed by currant circumstance. Tell you what though, if ever globalized healthcare and universal basic income become a thing here in the US I promise I’ll make y’all a little film.
