We need to apologize. Somehow we missed last week’s story about a bunch of half-naked Glastonbury dudes on a calendar. This is more embarrassing because I’d actually seen ads for this things around for months and I basically put it out of my head. I pictured guys with dad bods posing next to their BMW SUVs and my eyes glazed over. Turns out, it looks more like this:
Setting aside the fact that they forced a child into this Full Monty-esque calendar, this is pretty genius. I can’t think of anything more boring than the Glastonbury Chamber of Commerce — which this calendar is raising money for — but throw some hot naked dudes in the mix and I AM IN! (more…)
Ever wonder what weird word is most closely associated with Connecticut? Well, there’s a map for that!
After talking to linguists and browsing message boards, the folks at Slate decided that the Nutmeg State’s weird word is “Glawackus” and we are ready to take credit for that. This blog has to be the source of at least 75% of the Glawackus references on the web.
Question: Does this win us the favor and benevolence of the blood thirsty beast that prowls the woods of Glastonbury?
You know we love maps and what they can tell us about ourselves. We have now found the ultimate in map-related personality tools. If you head over to Esri.com you can put in your zip code and find out a bunch of, probably accurate, stuff about yourself–or at least the majority of people in your neighborhood. For instance, if you live in Hartford’s West End your hood is made up of 25% “Social Security Set”, 22% “Set to Impress”, and 18% “Fresh Ambitions.” What does any of that mean? Have a look:
Mississippi Catfish from Alan Wolf, Flickr Creative Commons
Can I just tell you how glad I am not to be a teenager? Sure, not having to pay electric bills was great. Snow days were a ton of fun when I didn’t have to shovel. But if I had to live in a teen world nominated by Snapchat, I would move to the Arctic Circle or Litchfield County or somewhere else with bad cellular reception. Why? Because of stories like this from The Courant:
“In May 2014, a 15-year-old local boy received a Facebook friend request from a stranger identifying herself as a 13-year-old girl. He accepted and soon he and the girl, Casey Morales, were chatting and sharing naked photos via Snapchat, another social media application.
The photos Casey sent disappeared after three seconds, a feature of Snapchat. Casey kept screen shots of the boy’s photos, court records unsealed this week indicate.
Not long after, Casey repeatedly demanded the unidentified boy send her a $25 Apple iTunes gift card, and that he go on another website and make sexually explicit videos of himself, or she would post a collage of the explicit photos to the boy’s Facebook page, the records say.”
It gets worse. (more…)
I walk through Glastonbury’s Riverfront Park on a regular basis. Frankly, most of it just gets in my way. You see, I like to park by the community center, put my dog on a retractable leash, and then walk through the fairgrounds while she runs around sniffing goose poop and rolling on dead things. I’ve done this for years. Then, one day, large machines moved in, put up a fence, and started tearing up the land. As it turns out, those machines were building a boat house, a fountain, and a playground so nice it made me consider having kids just so I wouldn’t look like a weirdo climbing all over the equipment.
My dog used to be able to get her ya-ya’s out before we got over to the other (older) part of the park where there are manicured baseball, soccer, and lacrosse fields–and a dog park. Now, though, there seem to constantly be other people walking their dogs, and their children in the area. (At least the kids are mostly kept behind fences…the dogs are often running wild, because leash laws don’t apply to people in Glastonbury.) One day we were swarmed by so many children wanting to pet my dog I nearly had an anxiety attack, and had to blame it on the perfectly happy pup.
On this same day, The Farmer was with me, and as we looked at the boathouse–which is really more of a giant event space, that happens to have a boat launch–we started wondering about all the ways the $12 million dollars (town and state) spent on this thing may have been better used. Here is a small example of the ideas we had:
- books for kids in under-performing schools
- trash pick-up for the citizens of Glastonbury
- teacher salaries
- a better teen center for the youth of Glastonbury who are plagued with heroin addiction
- feeding needy children
- just about anything other than a glorified banquet hall
There are a lot of pressing issues in Glastonbury. First and foremost is the chicken question: How many is too many? It seems that anything over 10 chickens is too many for anyone with under an acre of land. (That actually seems like way too many chickens for some parts of town.) Weirdly, anything over 15 chickens is too many for someone with up to five acres of land. (This seems arbitrary to me, but I’m just pissed because I live in East Hartford and technically I can’t have any chickens…though many of my neighbors are giving a big eff you to the town!) The next big question on the Glastonbury town council’s plate is whether or not to ruin a perfectly good intersection with a roundabout.
A terrifying look into the future.
You may know “roundabouts” by the much more boring name of “traffic circles” but the first time I was ever aware of one of these unholy traffic terrors was in England so I refuse to use your lame, American name. Anyway… Glastonbury is considering putting a roundabout in at the intersection of Hebron Avenue and New London Turnpike. I have no idea why they would do this, because as far as I’m concerned the only decent use for these things are in parking lots where the traffic is slow. (more…)
In the name of all that is unholy… my prayers have been answered — by Peter Marteka of all people. We all know that I love cryptic creatures, especially the Glawackus. Unfortunately, the article does not mention my completely scientific conclusion that the Glawackus was a Fisher.
For a while now I’ve been hearing about Under the Strawberry Moon, a festival in Glastonbury that is basically a “Taste of Glastonbury” with a fancier name. But as per usual, I’d forgotten about it until I drove through downtown Glastonbury and saw the tents going up. My boyfriend, The Farmer, was planning on heading out to his farm later that day so I started looking for people to accompany me. No-takers. My mom seemed incapable of understanding what it was. She thought it was a Strawberry Festival, but it wasn’t.
Food tents galore.
Luckily, The Farmer is one of those guys who actually likes to do things, so he decided to hang around a little while longer so we could head to the festival. Oh, and in case you were wondering, according to The Farmer’s Almanac, “The month of June’s full Moon’s name is the Full Strawberry Moon. June’s Full Strawberry Moon got its name because the Algonquin tribes knew it as a signal to gather ripening fruit.” (more…)