Strange Museums
Two odd ones.
One’s even in Houston! First, though, the Troll Museum. Yes, that’s right. Trolls. Not in the very-scary-big-monster variety, but the neon-hair-belly-button variety. Yes, those horrible, little figurines have their own museum. It’s like a car accident. It’s terrible, but I can’t look away.
The second museum is in my very own Houston! It’s the National Museum of Funeral History. Yeah, you read that right. It’s a museum dedicated to the way we bury our dead. And mourn them. It’s horrific, too, in a different way. But, I have to admit, it’s interesting. Now, if I can just convince the wife that she wants to go….
Well, either way, they might make a fun vactation stop, depending on your sense of humor! Happy Friday!
Back when I was a little girl, and we had to wrestle paleolithic hippies on the way to our experimental kindergartens, my grandmother, I think, sent us the neatest little troll house will all kinds of little miniature things, including my favorite: a little toaster could fire tiny platic toast across the room!
It disappeared along with the Barbies, I think. Was that supposed to boost my self-esteem, too, in the way that eliminating Barbie was supposed to give me a bulletproof body image? Last time I checked, I still wasn’t a troll. Perhaps it was the objectification of short people with bulbous noses, pointy ears and Don King hair that offended my mother’s sensibilities? Or were those trolls really, truly in cahoots with the devil?
She should be grateful she never had to contend with the likes of Pokemon or the gender nonspecific evils of Tinky Winky. She should be doubly, yea, triply glad that she didn’t have to shield our fragile little minds from Britney Spears.
The funeral history museum is just too morbid for me. Fascinating, I admit, but too morbid.
Comment by babydoll — 3/12/2004 @ 10:34 am
hey pal, wanna let me fix my typos later? *blush*
Comment by babydoll — 3/12/2004 @ 10:35 am