Costa Rica in the Rainy Season

Do you know what happens when you go to Costa Rica in the Rainy Season, and you travel with the same group of white people and you're the only Latina who looks golden brown and also speaks passable Spanish?

You're mistaken for the tour guide. A lot.

Not that I wouldn't be an awesome tour guide. I'm quippy and not afraid to get dirty and I don't mind riding in the front of the bus or translating a lot.And I'd probably get paid better. And I'd be getting commission anyway because, I'll be telling anyone anyways that Costa Rica? Is awesome. I live and die by the guide book. And before the trip I put together a binder with our flight itineraries and our agendas and helpful information about each area. Yes, I'm a nerd. But don't you wish you had someone like me on your trip? Our trip was booked through Latinexplore.com, and they were awesome. Picked us up right at the airport, handed us a detailed itinerary and made sure we were taken care of every leg of the journey. We had shuttles everywhere, which was a good thing because people drive like maniacs in San Jose.

Ethnocentric, you say? We were at a stop light and saw a car rear end a taxi right next to us. Yeah.

No one batted an eye.

Adventure 1: San Jose and Whitewater Rafting
Our trip began on the outskirts of San Jose, where we were to spend the night before being picked up to head to our white water rafting adventure. Being of the determined sort, I decided we needed to see the country's capital before we left, so we hopped in a taxi and headed in to San Jose. Right before this happened, I decided to douse myself in bug repellent. Did you know I'm allergic to bug repellent? Particularly, this stuff called 'Deet' in the bug repellent? Yeah I didn't either.

I found out soon enough when my skin began burning in the taxi and I was scratching myself quite improperly around my boobs and my back and my arms. What began as itchy morphed into feeling like I was being flayed alive. Did we come prepared with anti-allergic stuff? Of course!

Did we leave it at the hotel room? Of course we did!

Our trip to the gold museum was detoured to a trip to a Costa Rican pharmacy. No, we didn't take pictures. Still, the Gold Museum was interesting enough. When we headed out, we were greeted by a heavy torrent of rain. Because, you know, it's the rainy season.
Fear not! You think, we knew this, so of course we packed ponchos and the hotel hands out umbrellas, right?Of course! Except we left the ponchos in the hotel room with the allergy medicine and we neglected to bring an umbrella. Five blocks later, we managed to buy an umbrella from an entrepreneurial guy who sold it to us for 4 bucks, and landed drenched to 'Nuestra Tierra', a Costa Rican tourist trap that was recommended to us by the taxi driver.

We paid 60 bucks for mediocre chicken, steak and beans and rice.

The next morning, we were loaded in a bus and driven out of San Jose to an outdoor adventures company that does white water rafting. We were told all about the Paquares river, with class III and IV rapids and amazing waterfalls and canyons! It was going to be amazing!

Then we were told, yeah, we're not doing that one. It's too high and we're doing the Carmen instead, the baby river with class II and III rapids and a lot of mud.The majority of our time was spent laughing with the guides and splashing other boats. Not quite the adrenaline rush I was looking for.

Oh well.

From there it was a two and a half hour bus ride to La Fortuna.

Adventure 2: Arenal Volcano and the Tabacon Hot Springs

Rural Costa Rica is absolutely breathtaking; a tangle of jungle and cows and rivers, with an occasional town dotted in between. We were staying in tiny La Fortuna, mostly a tourist town thanks to the Arenal Volcano that looms over it.

Here, after a nature hike where we saw leafcutter ants in action, we headed to the Tabacan hot springs, where water heated by the volcano is gathered in 18 different pools that you can wander around and steam in before heading to the cooler pool to cool off.

It was decadent, and I wanted more time there.

Also, there was a water slide.

The next day, there was a shuttle to the manmade lake of Arenal, and a boat ride across it, where I was mistaken for the tour guide. Then a van picked us up on the other side of the lake and a two hour drive up a gravel, rickety road to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Preserve, where we are up so high we're literally blanketed by condensation.

Adventure 3: Monteverde and the lack of hot water
At first, we were in love with our little cabin. Then we discovered that we had either scalding hot water or frigid cold water for a shower, and no in between.

We were less in love.
But we did get picked up for our SkyTrek and Canopy adventure, where we got strapped into rigs, put into the little cars that ride on long lines (like at Disneyland) and taken into the jungle, where we then zipped across wilderness and canyons, high above the landscape, being tossed and battered by the wind and the rain.

On the shuttle ride back, we were dropped off at the Frog Pond, where we got a guided tour of all the native frogs of Costa Rica. Think it's silly? It was awesome.

Less awesome? Trying to take a shower after all that.

Adventure 4: Tamarindo surfing and puffer fishies
Our shuttle drive to the beach involved a two hour drive down that gravel road, which seemed bumpier and gravelier than ever. But four hours later, we had arrived in Tamarindo, at our beach resort.

We had three days here, and so there was time for lots of adventures and misadventures. This involved surfing (and a bruised knee), atv driving (through rivers! My socks turned brown), horseback riding in the rain (our camera broke), and snorkeling on a sunset cruise (remember the rainy season? There was no sunset).

And guess what? Our hot water fled us again.

Adventure 5: Trying to find the Coffee Farm


After the third day, we got picked up bright an early by a shuttle driver who promised to take us back to San Jose, to a coffee farm. The problem? He didn't quite know where it was.

There was a lot of driving on gravel roads (a habit in Costa Rica), before we landed as the place that farms coffee for 'Tres Generaciones' coffee.

We learned about coffee. It was interesting. Seriously.

Then we got to buy some coffee, went into a butteryfly garden, and were taken to our four star business hotel for the night.
We had hot water. I almost cried.

I got home on Sunday exhausted. Flopping on my bed, too tired to sleep, I turned on my television and took a look at my tivo to see what I had missed.

Saved on the DVR? The Southpark Episode that dealt with the kids joining 'Getting Gay with Kids' and getting lost in the Costa Rican rain forest.



I laughed my ass off.

Happiness is a Marilyn Made of Jelly Beans

This weekend, on a birthday excursion for the parents, I got a good look at the new store in the Universal Citywalk that has recently taken over the Nascar Racing store. Actually, I was less looking and more or less gobsmacked, when on our way to the movie theater, we caught a glimpse of a lifesize Marilyn Monroe.

Made of jellybeans.

If you fail to understand how awesome this really is, then you are... not awesome.

That is all.

This place turned me, my sister and my mother into giddy children, running inside to find sweet confections of every shape and variation. The store is called It'sSugar, and it's MARVELOUS.

There are candies of every flavor, naughty edible bras made of gummy, 'Get Your Own Sugar Daddy' T-shirts, chocolate covered cupcakes, and m&ms of every shape and color (it was no surprise that the Lakers themed m&ms were completely out).

For a junkie searching for a fix, this was the worst and best possible discovery on the planet. You know how the kids look in 'Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory' when they get their first good look at the room with the chocolate river?

Yeah... it was like that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a half pound bag of cherry sours, gummy bears, chocolate raisins, sour worms, and sour skittles to get through.

The Laughlin Retirement Center

A while back a friend scored a couple free rooms in Laughlin and invited us to go with her. Somehow or another, it ended up just being my friend Sam and I, and we’re not big gamblers. Well, Sam isn’t a big gambler, I have impulse control issues, and tend to get irrationally upset at slot machines, so I tend to avoid them altogether.

But still, a chance to get away is a chance to get away, and we figured that there had to be SOMETHING to do in Laughlin that didn’t involve the freezing cold river or gambling or an incredible expense. What we ended up doing was basically a vacation for geeks.

A planned trip included horseback riding and a trip to Oatman, Arizona, a defunct mining ghost town about an hour south of Laughlin, famous for its tame wild burros that now come into town and roam the streets, searching for a carrot or two from the tourists that come and feed them (yes, people will drive an hour south of Laughlin just to feed carrots to a donkey. Go with it).

The day after, we decided to hit up another ghost town, this one in california, called Calico.
Yes, we’re geeks. Okay, I’m the geek because I came up with all the suggestions, but you know what? I’m glad I did, because what we very quickly discovered when we landed in Laughlin was a sea of gray hair and the glint of bifocals.

We were the only people there under forty-five. I kid you not. It was frightening.
So off to Oatman we went, where we met up with Jessica of the Oatman Stables, who had two horses ready for us, and an hour trail ride where we got to see the real remains of the town: piles of antique trash, the old foundations of the hospital and the brothels, and old mine shafts. The view was gorgeous.

Then it back to Laughlin – to revel in our youth, before we headed on Sunday to Calico, another abandoned mining town that was… semi-abandoned actually. We got to actually tour one of the mines this time, and it was… well… when someone shoves you in a dark cave, closes the door behind you and leaves you in total darkness, it’s creepy.

But historically fascinating, as well.

Still beautiful though.

Grand Avenue Festival: Downtown Los Angeles

As diverse as Los Angeles is, I often find myself drifting out of my neighborhood to find the things I really want to do, which honestly, it's really fair to my own little piece of Los Angeles. It's just that I've lived there for 18 years, and to be honest, you just sometimes forget what's there.

But there is a certain charm to living on the cusp of the ghetto, right smack dab in the middle of the city. I live two blocks away from my alma mater, USC, and just five minutes from the Staples Center and downtown, and I often ignore both for the lure of either the Hollywood Hills or the west side.

That's not doing my little part of town justice. Just around the corner is the California Science Center, the IMAX, the Coliseum, the Museum of Natural History and the Rose Garden. Down Figueroa are too many restaurants to count, and further down the street you have the Staples Center, the Nokia theatre, and the lure of historic downtown with the gorgeous Disney Philharmonic, the Ahmanson Theater, the MOCA, among other sights to see.

At least this weekend I was reminded that as a city, LA pretty much rocks. I went to the Grand Avenue Festival, which takes place in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles, and features free admission and tickets to the Philharmonic, MOCA, the great theaters, and lots of other little things that are there to remind you how awesome Los Angeles can be.

One of my favorite things to do is go to MOCA, the Museum of Contemporary Art, stare a picture and go 'I don't get it'. I don't know why I love to do it, but I do. Because then I get all confused by what art is, and yet even though I stand in a room full of weird ass statues and a picture of a guy jerking off, I still find something that I like. That speaks to me.

Okay, so the big display of a bunch of fake trees didn't do that much for me but at least I can say I got to see... the bunch of fake trees. Fascinating.

The festival itself would have been a lot more enjoyable if I wasn't so exhausted, but there was some fun things to do if you had the energy. Bands, workshops, and even a huge group lesson of the electric slide. To which I say to you people: We need a cooler group dance that everyone has to learn. Because that one was lame even when it was invented.

more images here

Places To See Before I Die: King's Walk - Spain

I've been a little obsessed with Spain lately, for a number of reasons. Most prominent is my desperation to regain my fluency in Spanish and my obsession with the Spanish dramedy 'Los Hombres De Paco'.

But another reason, as a semi-avid hiker, is the King's Walk (El Camino Del Rey), the most dangerous trail for hikers in the world. It's gone years without maintainences, and entire sections of walkway are collasped, leaving only the beam. But, wow! Look at that view?

I'd go in a second, if I didn't know that my extreme clumsiness would manifest itself in a pitch forward into that beautiful chasm that I would probably be gawking at.

Luckily, in 2006, a renovation plan was introduced.

Who knows? Maybe I can go and not die. That would be nice.

Body Worlds 3 at the California Science Center

You know what's morbid and fascinating? Looking at bodies that have been dissected and preserved.

Yeah. That's science.

Awkward joking aside, there is something truly fascinating about the Bodyworlds 3 Exhibit, now in it's final weeks at the California Science Center in Los Angeles. The project has caused quite a bit of controversy in it's unique approach to exploring human anatomy, because the figures that are presented in acrobatic poses, with skin stripped away, and muscles peeled back, were once living breathing human figures.

The result is a sobering type of reverant quiet in the crowd. These modern mummies, humans who have donated themselves for the right to live forever in their display cases, bring the human body to life in a way that I haven't quite experienced since my half hearted foray into anatomy in high school.

There are milimeter thick translucent slices of entire human bodies, bloated black lungs putrified with smoke and cancer, still born fetuses who, even in death, stretch out tiny fingers to the awed audience. A flayed acrobat displays his organs proudly, lifted over his head on one hand.

It's both morbid and celebratory, this in-your-face exploration of the body, and definately worth seeing.

Random fact - did you know that dying of a broken heart isn't just a phrase, but an actual medical marvel? It is actually possible to die of a broken heart.

I know. It scared the hell out of me too.

Money doesn't grow on trees, but Wishes Do: The Pasadena Wishing Trees

Last weekend my sister came up from Dallas for the weekend. She's getting married, you see, and she's having it down here in LA. Which is great, honestly, but I'm not really the best ... planner.

Nor am I all that into frilly girly stuff. To ask me to go with you to meet with Photographers, look at wedding favors, and try on bridesmaid dresses that all look the same? Worse than Chinese water torture. I'm just saying.

That said, I still sucked it up and joined my sister for a weekend in Pasadena, looking at hotel rooms, limping through Downtown LA's fashion district and flower markets, and running screaming from over enthusiastic booth hosts at the Queen Mary's Bridal Expo, chanting rapidly, "I'M NOT THE BRIDE! LEAMMEALONE!"

It was a nice suprise however, early on Saturday, to wander into a courtyard in Old Town Pasadena and discover a dozen or so trees covered with little paper tags. Closer inspection revealed them to be Yoko Ono's wishing trees. It's a project she's put together in which there are tags and pencils provided, and you can write your own wish and place it on the trees with the others. Feeling sentimental, I grabbed a few and conned my family into writing their own wishes and placing them on the trees.

There just so happened to be a photographer there from the local paper, who snapped me snapping my sister placing her wish on the tree.

We're so famous, yo. ;-)

Joking aside, it was a sweet, quiet moment in a weekend of insanity, and I was grateful for it.

Nature Bound - Camping In The Sequoias

A few weeks ago, my mother sent a mass email to my (being Latino, typically large) family, stating that she decided that she and my aunt were going camping, and being of the proactive sort, had already booked the campsite.

The designated location was the 'Three Rivers Hideaway', up near the Sequoia National Forest. I had to work, so I couldn't ask for the three days off she was asking for, but as a compromise, I did take the weekend off, and corraled one of my best friends into going with me. This is what happens when you're good friends with me, by the way. You get semi-adopted by the family and have to deal with bugs, birds, and lots and lots of little chatty cousins who hang on you constantly.

Fair warning, right?

Anyway, Friday at work proved to be particularly brutal, so I ended up oversleeping on Saturday morning. The result? We were a little late getting on the road, which was just fine with Sam, because she is NOT a morning person, and still insists that getting on the road at 8AM is not getting on the road late at all. My dad, who called at 6AM and wondered openly why we weren't on the road yet, did not agree. Agree to disagree then. Sheesh. ;-) But then again, she could have also been grumpy because my big ass SUV did not have air conditioning. Either way, interesting morning.

When we finally arrived at Three Rivers, we discovered a small, empty hot-as-hell campsite, with only my grandmother as the patron. The rest of the family was at the watering hole, so Sam and I went down to join them, and discovered a little cove where the river was quiet, except for the kids, the parents, and the dogs.

There was tons of tadpoles and fish, and because it was hot as hell, Sam and I soon joined them. I'm somewhat of a nature freak, who also becomes a bit of an idiot when it comes to camping, so it was quite soon before I got tired of the little peaceful lagoon and proceeded to convince Sam to join me into going UP the river current, slipping on rocks and feeling our way with hands and feet, to get up to where the river forked. Down the ways we spotted another lagoon, and then as the current grew stronger, discovered we could actually 'ride' the current like a wave down the other side.

This was actually quite fun until we discovered that about seven kids had followed us over the dangerous rocks, and were now ready to slide on down themselves.

"We're setting a bad example, aren't we?" I asked, immediately forced to be an adult.
"Lil' bit," Sam replied, and not wanting to be responsible for any accidental drownings, we headed grudgingly back to the boring and peaceful lagoon.

Here's the thing about camping for me. I like it. I do. I don't mind tents. When I was fifteen I lived in one for two months when I was in the Philippines. But I either want to REALLY rough it, you know, with trails and lakes and digging a hole for your poop, or I want to be in a nice hotel with a television with air conditioning and a swimming pool. Being in a camp with nothing to do or nowhere to go gets boring fast. We ended up playing uno all night with the kids, and then embarking on a long, long walk in search of ice cream. We followed the road, and the entire time I kept thinking two things: a) My feet hurt. b) This is so the setting for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre or that creepy movie with Emily Blunt where she's stranded on a road and that ghost cop comes... So we gave up after about two miles, and joked to our selves that it was 'just around the river bend'. Stupid ice cream.

Night time fell, and we shared a cabin with my grandmother. During the night I had a dark, disturbing dream involving lesbians and zombies and a camp ground and lot of violence and assault. Fun stuff. Morning arrived and I was called to my aunt's tent, because my uncle had apparently already gotten up, and she needed someone to 'level out the air mattress'. Right.

It was time for the Sequoias. Yep, down to the National Park Sam and I went, for lots of picture taking and scenery. The problem is, we only had a few hours and well, that place is big. The bigger problem: we had no gas. Like, we forgot to fill up and so halfway through tripping around great big trees and oohing and ahhing over great landscapes, we discovered the gas meter reading at red. What followed was a grand, hilarious, stupid game of discovering how far we could get down the mountain (after an hour of driving) with no gas and going downhill with no foot on the pedal.

Sequoia Park Rangers? How about a gas station less than 100 miles away? You think? Maybe? Please? Sheesh.

Too bad, though. We were so worried about gas we had a hard time enjoying ourselves, but the views were fantastic:

Check Out More pics at my flickr account.

Oh yeah, after we went to get gas (and didn't stall! Hooray!), we found the ice cream store. It literally was maybe twenty feet before we turned back the night before.

Stupid ice cream. Stupid YUMMY ice cream!

If This Were A Farside Cartoon-

IMG_1034, originally uploaded by Mistiec_Flores.

The caption would read:
"It was then that Earl realized that he did not lock the Great White cages...." - tm findley


The Farside is so much better than real life sometimes.

Vegas, baby!

In true Los Angeles Resident fashion, when faced with the prospect of a long weekend, thoughts immediately turned to Las Vegas. I'm not a gambler (love Texas Hold 'Em, but Slots bore me to tears), but Vegas has some awesome attractions if you know where to look. Thanks to a nice tax refund, it was a weekend in which I could splurge, just a little, and so with some planning, we got a decent price for the Hilton, two reservations at BOA Las Vegas and the Eiffel Tower Restaurant, tickets for Cirque de Soleil's pornesqe Zumanity, and reservations for horseback riding in the canyons outside of Las Vegas.

Despite the fact that I'm way over weight and I should be following a strict diet to get back into shape in time for my fearless comeback for the third season of American Gladiators (in which my sole purpose will be to get rocked on Joust by Crush and thus fulfill the fantasy of nearly every male/woman who watches that show), this weekend I have given myself a bye. And with good reason. The food? was awesome.

But first things first. Taking off at 7AM on Saturday morning was a well-intentioned bid to get away from traffic, and unfortunately for us, it worked a little too well. We landed at the state line a good three hours before we could check into the hotel. So to kill time we stopped at my favorite on the way destination: Buffalo Bill Casino, a wild west themed casino which is part of a trio clustered on the state line that features, among other things, an awesome buffet, a roller coaster, and a huge outlet fashion mall. We got our buffet on and then I was let loose in the Coach outlet where we arrived in time for their big president's day sale (thank you, Mr. Lincoln).

I got way more giddy than I thought I'd be, but all seemed to work well, for I got a wristlet for 15 bucks and a brand new wallet for 60, down from 200.

Giddiness aside, we went on our way to Vegas, and were able to check into the Hilton, where it occured to me that I actually was feeding Paris Hilton and her backyard breeding tendencies. After forcing that panic attack aside, there was time to settle in and take a nap before heading over to the BOA steakhouse at Cesear's Palace on the strip. We were at the Hilton, maybe two or three blocks away. It took us an hour to get there and find the parking lot. Vegas doesn't fool around, bitches.

Once we got there, however, we were seated after about a fifteen minute wait, and were treated to quite a view.

Pretty damned gorgeous (thanks Sam, for the picture).

Then it was time to sit down and eat food off our pricey menues. But first? Cocktails. I had a Goldsmith, which was an effortlessly smooth infusion of apples, cinamen, vodka, bourban, nutmeg, and pineapple juice. Just... yum.

Appetizers! In which I had three jumbo prawns that sadly... were just that. Big ass Shrimp. I was hoping for a little more, but at six dollars a pop, I could have done better. Still, moving on to the fish of the day special, which was quite scrumptious. Pan-seared habilut over roasted yukon gold potatoes, with a baby leaves salad on top and a vinnegarette. Pretty yum. For dessert? The fried cheesecake. Which is as rich as it sounds and twice as fattening. It was served with a banana icecream that was absolutely delicious.

Too late for the Shark Reef, and not in the mood for clubbing, we headed back to the hotel and tried to cheat the system by watching a movie on Netflix.com. We were, however, stomped upon when we realized the hotel's wireless connection is crap. Touche, hotel. Touche.

Resigned to not knowing what would happen to the rest of the mediocre yet oddly compelling 'Love on the Side', we hit the lights out, because we needed to be up and early for our horesbackriding reservations.

So at 7:30Am, we waited in the parking lot of the Circus Circus for our tour bus to come pick us up. While there, we were witness to a terrific car crash between a cabbie and an employee, which lends credence to the idea that it's not just LA people who are terrible ass drivers. Everyone was okay, however, the whole crash-into-the-car-who-makes-a-left-turn-without-looking thing is pretty stupidly cliche. Look where you're going, peeps. We got picked, and along with about fifteen other people, were bussed to Red Rock Canyon, which is an absolutely beautiful bit of desert that not a lot of tourists know about, but should. The last time my friends and I went, we spent a good 3 hours scampering over rocks and marveling at the gorgeous scenery. This time, we were paired with a horse. Because I've become quite the hefty girl, I was paired with a huge ass horsey named Dunny. The cute cowboy was apparently quite surprised that I actually had the flexibility to make it in the stirrups on my own, but little does he know that a) 8 years of martial arts/kick boxing doth a stretchy girl make and b) my version of horse riding is of the Mexican pueblo style, which means you get on and if the horse throws you, you didn't hold on hard enough. Anyway, Dunny and I went our way and away we went, to explore the canyons of Red Rock in a straight line.

Again, the view? was spectacular.

Dunny himself was quite obviously a man's horse, who didn't quite like the lady sitting on his back. He had a mind of his own, but we eventually came to an understanding (that being, he would do whatever the hell he wanted, and I would push and pull a little but eventually let him), and after two hours of riding and pretty scenery my butt was killing me and my horse was hungry.

Still, I love horses. I want one. Even if they're big and smelly and poop a lot.

From there , we had just enough time to make it back to the hotel, nap and then shower and change for our reservations at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant, set in the Eiffel Tower in the Paris hotel. The view, again, was quite spectacular. The enviroment was very foofy, which meant fancy dress and no free refills (bastards). Still, we were able to see the Bellagio water show, and I was treated to an amazing crab salad (the prettiest I've ever eaten), and my first ever chocolate soufle. It was poofy.

Then it was time to hit Zumanity at the New York New York. Not a show to attend with mother, people. First of all? It's a Cique Show, which means of course, it's weird. Add to that? Topless everything. Every acrobatic manuever you can think of? With boobs. And dildos. And a lot of audience participation. Banana fellacio. Topless contortionists. Gorgeous drag queens. And an S&M scene involving choking.

Really quite gorgeous.

Really quite adult.

To sum up, you're typical Cirque show: topless.

Watching them all gave me the explicit urge to go work out.

So I took a nap instead.

Though I did have a salad for lunch today. That's a start, right?

Places to See Before I Die: The Mutter Museum

I think it's about time I make myself a list of places I want to go before I die. Because I plan to die while I'm still spry. Preferably in a freak hangliding accident. Over the Grand Canyon.

When I'm eighty.

Anyway, there are the usual places: Europe. The Outback. Sonic (there are NO branches in LA and I want one of those Fried Mac N Cheese things).

I read a lot about places, and I watch the travel channel religiously, but there is something to be said for actually standing on the footsteps of something real. It affects me profusely and if I close my eyes and just breathe, I feel like I'm transporting.

I'm the nerd who takes the tours that no one's heard of, who salivated and went an hour out of her way to visit the Winchester house, that crazy place where stairs led to into the ceiling and doors opened into nothing.

When I was in London, I visited the Westminster Abbey, and as I sat in the artists corner, looked at plaques and tombstomes, I nearly cried.

There's something about reality that gets me in a way that fiction never does, probably because I spend so much time immersed in fantasy.

That said, visiting the Mutter Museum will probably freak me out in such a way I'll most likely be scarred for life. It's one thing to watch a show and see a dude with a horn sprouting out of his head. I mean... you know it took five make up guys to strap that thing on there (see: hellboy). But to see an actual old lady with a horn on her head?

That's just not right.

Still, fiction derides from truth, and if the Mutter Museum, located in Philadelphia, established in 1858, is any indication, fiction doesn't hold a candle to the astonishing realities and rarities that crop up before us.

It's a nice reminder that there's something fanastically weird about people.

For a preview, check out Newsweek's feature photospread on the place - but just remember that i warned you about the chick with a horn in her head.