Friday, August 1, 2008

Wee Mad McGreggor

Staying at an Inn on the coast in Fife which was built in the 1600s and smells like a barn, possibly because it was a barn not too long ago. I also learned in the literature that it is haunted by a mean horse as well as an alcoholic midget with bells palsy named Wee Mad McGreggor who drooled. Copiously. Seriously, it's right there in the freakin' literature. And if the only way you can hype up your creepy old Inn is to dig back hundreds of years to find a crazy guy with a half paralyzed face who passed out here and never woke up, maybe you should throw in the towel and open up a pub like everyone else in this godforsaken country.

And despite the ridiculous description of Wee MM, the 7 year old girl inside of me still wants to sleep with the bathroom light on because ghosts are freakin... scary. And notoriously untrustworthy. And a paranormal being able to pierce the interdimensional barrier is really going to be intimidated by my bathroom illumination.

Even so, I feel slightly safer here than at that aquarium. Yesterday we visited the St. Andrews aquarium which was about the size of my bedroom and included a dead crab, a half dead seahorse, a seal with green fungus growing all over its mostly immobile body, a giant crayfish frantically clawing at the glass seam, and some shrimpy things banging themselves into a rock over and over again as baby sharks swam in circles over and over again in some kind of synchronized depression dance. It was like aqua Alcatraz.

A horse haunting you is one thing but an angry shark ghost is entirely another... those mutherfuckers can probably swim through walls and bite through faces in a single chomp. Or maybe they'd savor it and sample you VanGogh style before the big finish. In either case I've succeeded in freaking myself out before bed. Picture post to come. Hear all about the... *drumroll please* golf museum! Yes that's right folks, if fish who have lost the will to live and handicapped ghosts wasn't thrilling enough for you, Scotland keeps bringing the wows with the greatest golf museum in... you know what? it could be the greatest golf museum in the land of music extravaganza chocolate puppies psychadelic orgy town and it would still be a museum about guys hitting balls with sticks. Then making up 8 zillion rules to make sure they are the supreme ball hitters and that other ball hitters can't join their club. Ridiculous. Check for pics soon.


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