Farmer Vincent's fritters
It takes all kinds of critters to make ‘em.
One favorite childhood memory is more random than most: A group of friends and I snuck into the movies with borrowed older siblings to watch Motel Hell. Likely one of the campiest and crappiest horror movies ever made, it featured crazies cooking-up unsuspecting travelers as sausage. As a kid, the best part was how the victims were kept buried in the garden all veggie-like to be fed in preparation. I also loved the old guy riding a rickety bicycle around town yelling “we’re doomed, we’re doomed.”
Most of us hadn’t even hit our teens yet, so the movie was likely far more adult and interesting to us than the producers ever intended. But the fun memories of the night certainly stuck - which may have included my first cigarette, by the way.
A neat side effect of moving are the random memories generated by packing/unpacking. Not sure what exactly sparked this one, probably a combination of the move and the crap I’ve had playing in the background from FEARnet.
One favorite childhood memory is more random than most: A group of friends and I snuck into the movies with borrowed older siblings to watch Motel Hell. Likely one of the campiest and crappiest horror movies ever made, it featured crazies cooking-up unsuspecting travelers as sausage. As a kid, the best part was how the victims were kept buried in the garden all veggie-like to be fed in preparation. I also loved the old guy riding a rickety bicycle around town yelling “we’re doomed, we’re doomed.”
Most of us hadn’t even hit our teens yet, so the movie was likely far more adult and interesting to us than the producers ever intended. But the fun memories of the night certainly stuck - which may have included my first cigarette, by the way.
A neat side effect of moving are the random memories generated by packing/unpacking. Not sure what exactly sparked this one, probably a combination of the move and the crap I’ve had playing in the background from FEARnet.
