WELCOME

Welcome. Glad to see you here in our world of strange fascinations. What do we find so strangely fascinating? Well, a lot of things, really. To sum it up...we're predisposed to the paranormal, attracted to the anachronistic, responsive to retro, passionate about pop culture, captivated by kitsch, orgasmic over the odd. This is our warehouse. Stay as long as you like. Scrawl something on the wall (we'd really like that). Just don't open that door over there behind the life size cardboard cut-out of Agent Dale Cooper. Why? Never mind. Just don't. Unless, of course, you've always wanted to be the subject of a "weird news" headline.

Velkommen. Glad for at se Dem her i vores verden på en mærkelig hensyn. Hvad ser vi så mærkeligt Fascinerende? Godt, en masse ting, virkelig. Til sidst det up...we »ad været tilbøjelig til at se, tiltrukket af det utidssvarende, lydhør over for refleksanordninger, lidenskabeligt om POP kultur, påtage ved kitsch, orgasmic over mærkeligt. Det er vores lager. Ophold så længe man vil. Scrawl noget på væggen (vi fortsat virkelig gerne høre).

OI! PSSST. HAVE YOU MET OUR MASCOT? DON'T MIND THE GOOGLY EYES.
Yeah, she's definitely creepy with that unsettling gaze trained on the camera courtesy of those big, googly eyes, but from the moment we saw her pallid mug in the musty pages of "Wisconsin Death Trip", Michael Lesy's 1972 cult classic compendium of death, disease, disaster and degradation in 1890s Black River, Wisconsin, we knew that this nameless vixen of yore would forever have a stranglehold on what passes for our heart. And, of course, she's perfect for this dark and shamelessly skewed blog. If we had the time and the focus, we'd have T-shirts made that said "I suck the life out of Cheeseheads, Go Packers!" But, luckily, we have adult ADD and will never do it. Including her eerie little face in our blog is the best we can do. We just hope that our readers appreciate our creepy little friend as much as we do. In fact, we feel a poll coming on...





CLOCKS ROCK! But...Aufpassen! We Will Not Be Responsible For Wasted Hours, Minutes, Or Intentions.
Oh, yeah....we have a theme song. Two, in fact. And a whole lot of back-up possibilities. (Videos are down below.)

Our Theme Song

A BLOG WITHOUT MUSIC IS LIKE A DAY WITHOUT BEER. IT CAN BE DONE, BUT WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO? WE HOPE THAT YOU'LL ENJOY OUR RECOMMENDED SELECTIONS.

Enhance Your Viewing Pleasure

Amazon MP3 Clips

COMING SOON! LISSA D'S "FLICKS FOR CHICKS" MOVIE PICKS AND RANDOM MUSINGS

COMING SOON! LISSA D'S "FLICKS FOR CHICKS" MOVIE PICKS AND RANDOM MUSINGS
NEXT POST: LISSA EXPLAINS WHY SHE THINKS THAT "KILL BILL" IS A NECESSARY CINEMATIC THRILL.

How To Make A Pink Squirrel

How To Make A Pink Squirrel
Why wait? Get in the pink. Click on the rodent for the recipe for a classic Pink Squirrel cocktail..

Sunday, December 4, 2011

This Week's Strange Fascinations.

    What constitutes a strange fascination? The criteria is obviously subjective, but, this week, at least, we're pretty sure that the things we have fascinated by are on the periphery of the usual demographic spectrum. But why waste time analyzing? It's time to show and tell. To wit...

               ANTIQUE PLUMB BOBS

Antique plumb bobs. Couldn't you just eat 'em up?

    Who knows why? We have no carpentry skills that we know of, and symmetry has never been our strong suit (or even a remote contender), but there's just something about the shape and construction and purpose of these quaintly named little tools that makes us feel strangely comforted in the face of ongoing personal upheaval and conflict. Oddly, we have never even owned one of these gems, nor even had the pleasure of a close, personal encounter, but, nevertheless, we can't seem to keep from scouring the internet for new photographs to add to our burgeoning collection.  While we're especially fond of brass plumb bobs, we've experienced a few extra heartbeats at the sight of ivory plumb bobs, which we think add just the right touch of haute coutre and glamor to the otherwise mundane task of making things level.    

   Whether our fascination comes from a previous life spent utilizing these little tools, or we're just reacting to some undefined longing connected to the distended state of our personal life, we just can't get enough of antique plumb bobs.

            NUDE NUNS WITH BIG GUNS

     We've never been a big fan of the action movie genre, although we have a soft spot in our duct-taped heart for the image of Clint Eastwood in a poncho on a windswept plain. But from the moment we took our first gander at a clip of Nude Nuns with Big Guns (2010, directed by Joseph Guzman, starring Asan Ortega), we were absolutely in love with Sister Sarah (who isn't always nude, by the way, and never fully so) and her holy resolve to gun down the drug cartel monsters who robbed her, beat her, raped her, and left her for dead. You would think that Mexican drug dealers would have had a little more respect for a woman married to Christ, but their folly is our gain. Nuns with guns is B-level cheesiness with A-level cult potential. And Sister Sarah is no soft-spoken angel of mercy in conflict over mowing down her would be murderers. She is, as the movie tag line goes, "one bad mother," Say your prayers, sinners. She's coming for you. Just like your next bad habit. We'll light a candle for you.

       RUBBER CLOTHING


The cat's meow






 As a kid in the 1960's, we used to play "secret agent" a lot, and somehow or other, always ended up in the imaginary persona of a character based on "Catwoman", the slinky, sexy, salacious nemesis of Batman and his frumpy little sidekick, Robin. Perhaps that's the reason that, now,  all these years later, we can't stop thinking about how exciting it would be to add a rubberized dimension to our wardrobe. Spandex is fine, of course, and we have no issue with leather (sorry, Peta..well, kind of), but we just find ourselves strangely fascinated by the idea of walking down the street decked out in something like this.....


 or this....
 



                                                                  and especially this...

                                                                      
    Of course, at 52, there's a chance that we might take a few hits for dressing inappropriately for our age, but we couldn't care less. The Europeans get it in a way that Americans never will. It's all about the spirit. The body obeys the spirit, not the other way round, and our spirit is a dominatrix cracking a whip of fire. Someday, that may change. But for now, we'll stack our rubber clothes wearing rights up against any 25 year old's. You got it, flaunt it. And we've always been good at that.


    So, that's it for this week. Hope we have raised your spirits in some, small way. If not, well, at least we haven't robbed you ar gunpoint and stolen your plastic go-go boots. But that's another post, and one which has a happily resolved ending. (Thanks, Sister Sarah). See you anon, xoxoxoxxox


                                                         

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