Photo Fronday Rises Again
There was something catchy about the word Fronday, I guess, for I have chosen, by no fault of my own (so I claim), to return to its glory for a second run.
Shamon!
I descended upon Vermont like a high functioning lunatic with a camera and Vermont lived to tell it, through pictures. This is the visitors center off of Route 91 and by golly, isn’t it lovely? There were dozens of pictures from this location, but as I have sworn from day one, I will only post the loony shots on Photo Fronday, everything else goes to Photog Geeks Out. I have to set rules for myself, people! Otherwise, I run rampant and have nothing to break without throwing shit and leaving a mess afterward.
This moose was asking to get shot. Why else would he wrap himself in police tape? Attention seeker, to say the least.
If you’re feeling the need to stop on a road trip through VT, these chairs sit at the back entrance of the Guilford Rest Area Museum (yes, Museum), just waiting for your ass.
The sky and I tangoed on this day, like we are often found doing. It’s a dance of seduction, really. The sky has been asking for my number, but I refuse. I’m saving myself.
The Portrait of the Photographer by Reflection, or something otherwise pretentious. Call it what you will, I thought it looked cool as HELL!
What’s that? It’s just more of your sky addiction coming through, you say? What is this? An intervention? If you really loved me you’d let me be happy!
Dude, seriously…my fingernails have gotten so unbelievably long I am having trouble typing this. I’m tempted to rip them off everyday, but I have sworn to get a manicure first. Let them deal with the monsters. Sorry. Sidetrack! I digress…
Just looking at these bad larries makes me feel dusty. Or Sneezy. Or some other dwarf from Snow White.
When I look at these, I think, “Why isn’t there a martial art form out there for fighting with fox tail dusters on a stick? Should I create it? Perhaps I should write a superhero who fights crime by means of exploiting villains allergies. It could be done. No, it should be done! You listening to me cosmos. Add that to the list of my awesome achievements. The Sneeze; nightmare of evil.”
Don’t let that plate of pancakes see this picture. It will get jealous.
Anyone who uses generic, artificial, sugar free, or maple flavored pancake syrup should take donkey punch to the back of the head…on a short pier! The truth is in the trees, bitches! Maple Syrup is real, it’s tangible, and it licks your face! There is nothing quite like the warm pour of pure amber over a tall stack of buttery buttermilk pancakes. Butterbutterbuttermcbutterton!
I actually bought a couple packages of Maple Candy for someone special while I was up there, then I ate one of them. Wait! I mean, I bought A package of Maple Candy for someone special while I was up there. Oh shit! What have I done? I mean, I thought to buy a package of Maple Candy for someone special while I was up there, but decided they would most likely prefer a postcard. I’m a thoughtful person, really. God damn it! Nevermind!
Welcome to BASKETVILLE! (You’ve been successfully distracted)
Yes, you see correctly. This place has a basket shark. The most dangerous and unexpected of the shark species, the Basket Shark swims in midair and threatens its prey with promises of slivers and hate and an angry indentation of cane weave in the soft flesh of their buttocks. Spielberg actually wrote Jaws initially about a Basket Shark, but the early test showings proved to be too terrifying for even the biggest horror fan, so he went with the Great White instead.
Truly, I risked my life taking this picture, but luckily the swooping foul overhead distracted him long enough for me to get away relatively unscathed. See what I go through for you, Photo Fronday?
Is that not love?
Be Good.
