This weekend, I visited the fantastic new permanent exhibit at the Houston Musem of Natural Science with my niece and nephew (and their parents and James). I went to this museum a lot as a teen and young adult (mostly with my grandfather), so it was super cool to go with the next generation.
Little man, big dinosaur. Rowan gets his mind blown.
Molly was a little more excited by her smushed penny (featuring a butterfly) than the dinosaurs. She’s two, so, you know.
The pterodactyls were my favorites. CAKAW!
For some reason, this giant sloth was one of the scarier dinosaurs on display. You’re thinking, yeah, right. A giant sloth is scary…
…well look at this artist’s recreation of the bastard. Nope.
Not all of the dinosaurs were frightening.
DINO ON THE LEFT: I got engaged this weekend!
DINO ON THE RIGHT: OH MY GOD! That’s awesome! Does he have a brother? He has to be an herbivore or my parents will kill me. Or maybe that huge comet heading this way will. Six of one.
Why would you get a tattoo right there? You look like a whore. You can’t even see it unless you back up to a mirror, so I have to wonder whom, exactly, this is for. Just wait until your father gets home.
derp (chikfilasaurus)
When we were done with the mind blowing dinosaur exhibit, we headed downstairs to see a cherished old favorite–the space exhibit. Alas, what remains reflects the overall unfunding of the space program. It was a sad shadow of its former self. In the tattered “Mission Control,” there was this random printer. Just hanging out. It was the only technology in there from the past decade or two.
Just behind the sad space area is museum purgatory, where science goes to die. At least throw a coat of paint on the walls or put up posters of the interesting stuff that’s happening elsewhere in the building. (shudder)
On the third floor, I was treated to an exhibit that is EXACTLY like it was when I was a kid. Not sure that’s such a good thing either. It looks like this zebra leg was dipped in red glitter. Maybe they could get some crafty hipsters to freshen up a few of these exhibits in exchange for cases of PBR, glasses from lost/founds of the past and dork cred.
All bitching aside, we had a great time hanging with the dinos. If you’re thinking about going, I recommend you do what we did and get there right before they open. We were the first people in, and we managed to stay ahead of the throngs. Made for a better experience, not to mention better photo opps.

7 thoughts on “dinosaurs!

  1. Hey! I was just thinking about GB Shaw and wiki-ing him and I thought of you. I hope like hell that you are intimately familiar with his work. I’m not but that abortion piece I shoplifted from the Amazons that you wrote had a distinctly shavian aura. Not as long; GB could make his shopping list look like Moby Dick with liner notes. But, well, social commentary and caustic, uh, well, I had something intelligible to say but it is my day off from my life so I ain;’t smart on Sundays. OK?

    Bitches Be Crazy

  2. Plus you must have once said “Albee” where I could hear it or your brother did and until now I never made the connection between his (Edwards) work and the writing of Shaw. They both concoct scenes that are the equivalent of very dry martinis taken fast. Something just took place, like a scene from the corner of your eye that you didn’t quite catch but might be important…

    I hate it when I run out of rum before noon. What can I say? I don’;t live in Key West but I might as well. In fact, this little kooky Florida place is just as good. But I guess Key West makes for a better by-line. But as a side note, Ed Albee was a regular at our neighborhood Art Saloon, once upon a time.


    It just occurred to me that I could get a job there as Big Man In Charge of Fix-it. So thanks for that.


    1. You know, bitches be especially crazy lately. I think it’s the heat.

      I’m a little familiar with Shaw but haven’t read much of his work. I’ve seen enough of it to take the compliment with a “thank you very much.” I just checked out his wiki page and saw this: “He died at the age of 94, of renal failure precipitated by injuries incurred by falling while pruning a tree.” That seems like a pretty good way to go.

      Don’t know about Florida, but you can’t buy liquor in Texas on a Sunday. We’re mostly winos in this house, so that limitation doesn’t really get us down too often, but I feel your pain.

      Hope the sea breeze is keeping you cool. I’m pretty much ready to punch summer in the nuts. Enough already.

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