Fleet Farm! Friday

This is where I tell you about finding the most magnificent emporium of oddities on earth, and you go "Yeah, yeah, I've seen it all before....".

You are a hardened bunch.

When, exactly, did you all get so jaded?

So cold?

Speaking of cold...

When I think of cold, I think of winter. And when I think of winter - rather than thinking of the rain and the grey and S.A.D. and the marrow-chilling dampness that has now been my climate for the last half of my life - I get all nostalgic and gushy and think about snow.

And when I think about snow, I think of that sound.

That scrunching and scraping of my dear sainted mother shovelling the walks. Scrunch, scrape, stop. Scrunch, scrape, stop. (the stopping was when she whipped the Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe her drippy nose). How I wish she would have had the luxury of the not-yet-invented snowblower. Lady coulda rocked that technology something fierce.

But now, not only does the snow blower exist - a boon to some, a loathesome noise machine to others -thanks to the awesomeness also known as Fleet Farm, there also exists this fabulous accessory to go with it. Behold!

The Universal Freakin' Snowcab.

It is so many exciting things in one, it has so much magnificent potential, I can only right now share a partial list with you :

It's a Cab.

It's an Oxygen Tent.

It's a "Let's Pretend We're in a Super-Submarine Under the Sea" toy.

It's a Pope Mobile.

And the thing I love the bestest of all about it?

The instructions:

"Assembles in minutes - with basic tools"

And, just like I am convinced that - thanks to off-shore manufacturing- there was an obvious punctuation error in the Duck!!!! Blind, I am also certain that the Universal Snowcab box should say "by" instead of "with".

Oh, you silly store - you are an endless source of amusement...

Fleet Farm!!!

Happy Friday, everyone.

Fleet Farm! Friday

Little-known Baroness fact: I wish I could be a sleuth. Full-time.

Choice of novel?

Cornwell, Grafton, Parker, some Evanovich for levity.

Choice of TV?

CSI (original only)

(Miami? Bitch, please.).

And, naturellement, my newest obsession - Criminal Minds. Gotta love me some nerd.

So, can you possibly imagine the excitement bouncing around in my little ribcage when I went to Fleet Farm and saw that they could make my dreams of crime fighting come true*?

Yuh-huh. I know!

Fleet Farm.

Can. You.

Freaking.

Imagine. It???

Those fine folks? They sell...come a little closer to the screen....

closer.....

closer....

I have to whisper.....

SPY EQUIPMENT!!!!!!

Unbelievable.

Yet so gloriously true.

So, say I'm hired by a huge beverage conglomerate to go to Tahiti to find out the secret ingredient in Goji Juice. I first ingratiate myself near the hut where two very important tribal leaders will be meeting to quaff and quibble and get down to the boola boola nitty gritty, I don my disguise, and voila....

photo source here

Can you see me?
What if I tell you that I'm not a plus-size Polynesian woman?
What if I tell you I don't even know how to weave?
Can you see me now?

The answer is no, you cannot.

Scenario two. Suppose I have been commissioned by some slightly shifty gossip e-zine to spy on Mark Burnett to find out where the next 'Survivor' will be taking place. This highly classified information will prove very lucrative (alright, already - I haven't completely thought this particular scenario through - just roll with me here, people).

Anyways, if Burnett is staying here:

photo source here

I can be there too.

Spot me yet?

I thought not.

Because Fleet Farm is magic, that's why.

Magic. And brilliant.

Because they sell something akin to Harry Potter's Cloak of Invisibility.

It's called a blind.

Clever, non?

This is not Tahiti.
Nor a hut in the middle of the ocean.
It's me, goose.
Did I just blow your mind or what?

Well, technically, it's called a 'Duck Blind'.

But I'm sure that's just a typo - they've clearly missed some punctuation.

It should read "Duck! Blind."

Irregardless, it is one fine tool for corporate espionage. (Ok,, the smell gives me bad henna flashbacks and it's a bitch to pack in the suitcase, but that's the price one must pay for greatness...)

Fleet Farm!!

*My original dream of crime-fighting, i.e. wanting to be a cast member of 'Criminal Minds', does not appear to be coming true any time in the near future, as I continue waiting - in vain, may I add - for a reply e-mail from one Mr. Matthew Gray Gubler.

Sigh. Pout.

Anyone affiliated with CBS who could get this blogger a spot on CM (ANYTHING), please e-mail me at baronessvonb@gmail.com.

I am tired of waiting for The Gube.

Forget the Cigar, Here's a PB & B Sandwich!

Being Ruth-Less....

...is not a good thing*

I have been mulling for the last couple of days on my Friday post for this week, to no avail. I've shoved nostalgia, News of the world, travel and meditative offerings through the Baroness kaleidoscope - what could possibly be left?

Imagine, then, my delight when this came across my desk - the logical bookend for this past Monday's entry (ok, ok, it was technically Sunday's, but let's not get bogged down in the details - my weeks start on Sunday. Sue me, Schlomo).

She had to come from somewhere, and this explains A LOT...

Safe trick or treating, y'all.



* astute observation courtesy of Chesapeake Bay Woman. (LOVE this!!!)

Namaste, You Gossip-Mongering Bitch

(Tina's Groove, by Rina Piccolo)