Tag Archives: virginia

dinosaur kingdom

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yes, that is a union soldier about to be devoured by a tyrannosaurus rex.

this weekend, I went to dinosaur kingdom in natural bridge, virginia, a weird, alternate universe where the union army has tried to harness the power of the mighty dinosaurs and failed miserably. the “kingdom” is picturesquely situated along a wooded path, the sylvan glen echoing with the angry growls of dinosaurs set to a soundtrack much like the one my mother played one halloween.

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what. the. hell.

then of course there was the mighty two-headed tortoise, taunting one soldier by sipping from his canteen…

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…and of course the terrible moment when a rogue velociraptor stole the gettysburg address from abraham lincoln.

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I can’t tell how lincoln feels here. is he angry? sad? suffering from writer’s block? helplessly bullied by a prehistoric pest?

while in natural bridge, we also stopped at foamhenge, which was created by the same man who started the dinosaur park.


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apparently, this is was made in the same dimensions as the actual stonehenge, and it’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to seeing the real thing. my only regret is that I forgot my druid robe.




hooray, virginia.

“let us dedicate ourselves to what the greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.”-RFK

virginia, no one can warm you

virginia has turned me into a little girly wuss.

it’s 57 degrees out and I’m ready to put on my long underwear, earmuffs, knee-high wool socks, and bear skin coat. oh, and probably some clothing, too. at first when it started getting cold yesterday I was all like “oh, I can handle this. I’m from MASSACHUSETTS, bitches!” then I threw my head back and laughed evil-ly while people shivered past me in down vests and flannel-lined pants. suddenly, the cold pounced upon me like a rabid cougar.

now I’m…so…cold. I feel like if I had a beard, it would have icicles hanging off of it. or if I decided to lick a metal handrailing, my tongue would get stuck to it.

damn you, virginia. why can’t you just be normal?

the strangest of all roadside attractions

today, I fulfilled a dream that was several months in the making. I went to presidents park.

the strangeness that is president's park

the strangeness that is president's park. notice william "the fattie" taft at the center.

I first saw presidents park in march when I came down to visit william and mary. my friend kristin, knowing my affection for the presidents, knew it was something I had to see. so, in the virginia dusk, she drove me down route 199 and told me to keep my eyes open. suddenly, rising up out of the ground along the side of the highway were GIANT BUSTS OF ALL THE PRESIDENTS. the orangey light of the setting sun shined on abraham lincoln’s face, who benevolently smiled at passers-by. these white, 15-foot tall cement statues looked like they were growing straight out of the ground from GIANT PRESIDENTIAL SEEDS. I almost had a heart attack. we pulled down the road behind the park so I could take a few photos through a chain link fence.

every time I drove down rt. 199 past presidents park, I would almost drive directly off the road and into a tree. so today, I finally went there to this presidential mecca.

it was weird.

the busts–made of sculpted white concrete and arranged chronologically along a circular path–are just tall enough that you can look right up your favorite president’s nostrils. gentle patriotic music wafts through the air. Informational signs point out the most salient points from each president’s career, often leaving out the most juicy bits. though pointing out that john quincy adams swam in the potomac river everyday, the sign, however, neglects to mention that he did this in the nude.

good ol' george washington

good ol' george washington

I was slightly sadden by the fact that old standards like abe and georgie-poo and andrew “asshole” jackson were fairly well maintained, but the lesser-known presidents (who are always my favorites) had peeling paint and big chunks taken out of their noses. oh, the injustice. I have to say, too, that bill clinton didn’t look much like bill clinton. he looked like a big fatty who’d spent too much time playing video games and eating cheez-whiz. on the other hand, george bush, sr. looked really good. I think there was some heavy republican favoritism at play here. also, the admission was $7.50! $7.50! hopefully they put my money to good use and give FDR a new pair of spectacles. the man is blind without them, seriously.

in conclusion, I suppose I might say that my perceptions of presidents park are not unbepissed.

george bush, sr., looking good

george bush, sr., looking good

bill "butterface" clinton

bill "butterface" clinton

UPDATE: virginia vanity plates

yesterday I saw this really hot sports car with a vanity plate that said “WA1-MART.”

why? WHY?!


because of my intense journalistic tendencies, I am committed to reporting to you the status of tropical storm hanna from the front.

I've got my eyes on the skies

I've got my eyes on the skies.

here are some photos I took of this terrible storm so you’ll feel like you were out there with me. even though you’re probably way too wussy to endure the elements like me. JUST LOOK AT THE RAINCOAT!



00--I almost was blown away taking this one

11:00--I almost was blown away taking this one

00--clearly, hanna is merciless

15:00--clearly, hanna is merciless

so, from my documentary photos, you can see what a fickle mistress lady weather can be. we’re not out of this yet–hanna may still have some tricks up her watery sleeves. I’ll keep you posted on any new developments.

on virginia and vanity plates

it seems that everyone in the great state of virginia has a vanity plate. DID YOU KNOW that the first virginia resident to have a vanity plate was thomas jefferson? it’s true. here is a representation of what it looked like:

apparently, these special, special plates are only $10 here. after doing some scholarly research on this intriguing topic, I found this article, which states that one in ten of the nation’s vanity plates are in virginia. one in ten! and there are practically fifty states!

the problem I have with vanity plates is not the sheer dumbness of their existence, no, but the fact that I am convinced that I am going to get in an accident someday trying to decipher one.

for example, see this plate here.

now, maybe a logical explanation would be that REDSNAK translates to “red snake” since the car is a cobra. but what if, in fact, REDSNAK means “red snack”? what if the driver prefers red snacks to all other kinds of snacks? tomatoes, doritos, apples–all of these are quite good snacks (“snaks”). or, what if the owner of this car simply can’t spell?

I think these are all reasonable arguments. I’m sure glad I’m not driving right now, because I probably would have just rearended  mr. or ms. redsnak.

so, what would your vanity plate say? tell me.

p.s. tee hee