Nighmares At The Museum...Or, Ways To Feel Lucky I'm Still Alive

This isn't a real post: it's a bunch of pics from our trip to the Houston Museum of Natural Science for my birthday (because the MAGNA CARTA was there, people, and nothing makes my geeky medieval heart beat quite as fast as a piece of parchment that was written in 1217).

 

After I stopped drooling on the glass attempting to read tiny scribblings I'm told are supposedly in  Latin but were written on really old skin, in fading ink, in a different language, by some sort of hobbit sized scribe erm... blind monks thrifty people trying to save messenger fees...

 

Anyway, after we finished geeking out over the Magna Carta we spent some time in the Paleontology exhibit.

 

Wherein I met monsters that I'm afraid are digging holes in my front yard and some unfortunate fellows had...incidents.

 

First, there were bugs. LOTS OF GIANT SNAKEPIDER BUGS.

If THIS is what's making a goddamned hole in my front garden, FUCK NO.

FUCKETY FUCK FUCK NO!!!!

Then, there were super awesome giant cross sections of huge trees that lived about a zillion years before man was even a blip on the cosmic radar. And they're pretty.

 

I'm 6' tall. This cross section of a fossilized tree is taller than me...just how many rings IS that?

Then Husband unfortunately lost his hand to some sort of giant sailing lizard. Sad. (It's possible he's attempting to choke said sailing lizard, which seems foolish considering the HUGE FUCKING TEETH, but it all turned out ok in the end.)

 

His new hook is on backorder. 



Then we discovered Syfy channel has failed utterly in their monster movie motifs. I mean, come ON: in the Hall of Monsters in the museum these dudes just hung out, waiting to stalk you and eat your brains. Except they were literally 15 to 20 feet tall, and looked fully large enough to carry off a Clydesdale. Syfy, their NAME is Gigantodactyl. YOUR WORK HAS BEEN DONE FOR YOU HERE.

We do not eat worms.
Unless it's a sandworm from Dune...those might be tasty, and we're definitely early.
And terrifying.
 

And then we discovered this unfortunate scene, in which a skeletal zombie mammoth is fighting skeletal human hunters. As you can see, the mammoth is CLEARLY winning here.

Or, prehistoric humans could fly. It's rather difficult to tell.

See the skeleton? Natural Selection at it's best.



Nope, this dude DEFINTELY looks like he's having a piss-poor hunting day. Maybe the Mammoth learned to appreciate human flight deaths from Robin Arryn? (Yes, that's a Game of Thrones reference. What? This could be the brother of the sad mammoths that died at the Wall)

 



You win this round, Mammoth.



And thus our trip to the museum ended. And I'm reminded that even though I'm closer to 40 today, I still have a longer life span than people who tried to fly around mammoths. And that's enough for me.



Mammoth Butt. The End.