The legend of Black Aggie is one of Baltimore’s most popular legends. Ask anyone what they know of Black Aggie and all will have an experience to share. Black Aggie is a cemetery sculpture located in Pikesville’s Druid Ridge Cemetery, a few miles outside of Baltimore City. It is a life size statue of a seated woman draped in a shroud. Her head is bowed and she is black in color and in mood. During daylight, you can see the amazing detail and artistic beauty. However, encountering her at night her presence is ominous and threatening. No grass or plant life will grow around her. Continue reading
Boredcoworker
27 posts
I get no pleasure from watching the television shows about hoarders. For most,the shows will motivate them to clean and toss away unneeded junk, making them feel better about their lives. For me, it makes me want to curl up in bed and take a nap. Why is this? My father is an honest to goodness, pathological hoarder and my mother in her codependency has become a willing participant. Growing up in the household, I developed tendencies to want to hoard, but work on fighting them daily.
I’m not sharing this to shame my parents or make fun of them. Although, the fake Christmas tree left standing in June, that my mother will buy ornaments for year round, has become an absurd joke between my sister and I. I share this, because there is a side most don’t necessarily see on these shows. And that is the humanity behind the hoards. What has brought people to live in homes where they literally have to crawl over things to get from one side of the house to another. Continue reading
It’s difficult to picture what life was like before Andy Cohen, the Machiavellian creator behind one of the most popular franchises of reality TV, redefined the meaning of fame. No longer is there any mystery surrounding today’s celebs. The more dirty laundry and ridiculousness these “stars” air, the more famous they become. I admit it, I’m sucked in, I can’t stop watching the monstorous train wrecks they create week after week. These people are today’s version of Dynasty and Falcon Crest, except for, you know, most of them don’t really have any money. What they lack in the pocketbook however, they make up in shamelessness.
Lucky for us, the viewer, the stars of these series will go to any length to ensure their relevancy. I could be here for a month listing all of the cringe worthy moments in Housewife history. But in the interest of not giving you all aneurysms, here are some of my favorite, most shameless moments from The Real Housewives. Continue reading
I was in the process of writing about the love story of Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. After reading Furious Love, I felt there was no story of a Hollywood couple more outlandish and smuttier than about those two. Woo-wee, was I wrong. Still catching up on the Internets from my podunk lake vacation, I had no idea about the split between Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise until I got a CNN BREAKING NEWS REPORT from my bestie via text (it wasn’t that podunk for cripes sakes!). At the time, I thought to myself it wasn’t too much of a shocker until…dun dun dun…the PR flacks started leaking “the truth.” And ladies and gentlemen, we now have ourselves an real old fashioned Hollywood gossip hootenanny! Continue reading
During these harsh economic times, my friends and I have brought our Friday night Happy Hours to the home front. Some of us have become quite creative in mixing cocktails. Instead of the usual bottles of vino and pale ale, we have turned our Happy Hours into nights filled with Cucumber Martinis and Saki Mojitos. I have been on a Sangria kick these days, so I thought I would share a couple of my recipes with you, in hopes that I would get a few cocktail recipes in return! Continue reading
I was an Air Force brat until age eight. When my father retired in 1978, we moved from Dover AFB to Baltimore, Maryland. As a college and Jesuit educated, ex-Captain of the military, my father insisted that his children not pick up 
the local accents of the areas in which we lived, especially the Baltimore brogue, which seemed to grate on him the most. However, to me, an accent meant, roots. It meant you lived somewhere long enough to develop the local speak. I didn’t have the luxury of staying in one place during early formative years, and I think that is why one’s accent appeals to me and why I pay close attention to every accent I come in contact with envy. Continue reading
My husband had an affair. Actually, make that several affairs.
D Day occurred as I was lying in a hospital bed by text message.
I was just starting to drift off into a hazy, Dilaudid induced sleep when a text came through on my phone from my husband. Continue reading