Spotted this evening as I was coming down First Street on my way home from the dojo. Dollhouse B&B has a bay window, and this Major Award was displayed prominently in it.
I am delighted to see that someone in town shares my fondness for A Christmas Story. I show the film to my sophomores every year as an intro to my narrative essay unit, as the flagpole scene is a near-perfect example of narrative structure.
When my sister bought me a set of KISS Lego figures for Christmas last year, I assumed that was as weird as it got. Clearly, I was mistaken, as evidenced by the Lego Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega figures you see pictured above. My friend Jeffrey found them at Hastings on Monday and promptly bought them for me to glue on my dashboard. I have no idea who thought the world needed Pulp Fiction Lego figurines — or why — but that person is obviously a genius and deserves a Royale with cheese and whatever is in the suitcase for coming up with something this brilliant.
I had yesterday off in exchange for working New Year’s Day, so I seized the opportunity to install Jules, Vincent and some other characters I’ve acquired in the past few months:
Hope your day was filled with fun stuff worthy of gluing onto your dashboard.
Y’all. Y’ALL. I just fulfilled a dream 17 years in the making.
Once upon a time in 1997, I drove past a parking lot in northern Illinois. On the parking lot was a man selling velvet paintings from the back of a truck. At the time, I owned a fiberoptic lamp and a bean-bag chair, both of which were displayed prominently in my living room, so when I spotted a velvet painting of dogs playing poker, I was certain I’d found the Holy Grail of Bad Taste.* If I’d had $60 on me at the time, I’d have bought it. I’m still not sure why I didn’t proceed directly to the nearest ATM to secure the funds for this masterpiece, because it stands as one of the worst things I’ve ever seen.
I was thinking about the Grail tonight. And then as I got on eBay to search for the Grail again, I thought of that painting.
I didn’t find the Grail. But I found some guy named Jorge who lives in northern Mexico and creates hand-painted replicas of that painting I passed up.
I knew I should have bought it when it was only $60. A thing like that can only appreciate in value, which is obviously why a velvet art dealer is charging $100 for Jorge’s work.
Painting ships Monday. I’m still trying to decide whether it’s worth another $25 for an ugly pine frame similar to the one on my velvet Elvis.