The Good Witch and I were out, either discussing important social issues or the madness that was The Real Housewives of Atlanta Reunion Specials, when we decided to stop by the Tuesday Morning store. I was looking for a deal on a Monster High doll (don’t get me started on Monster High dolls), while G.W. was just looking. Then she found it:
“What in the name of all that is holy is that?” she asked. I said, “Lord Doghead”, and the name stuck. I quickly pulled out my cell phone and snapped a shot, just so that I could share the image with those in my life who were, unfortunately, too far away to personally experience this wonder.
If you’d care to argue that there are weirder things in the world, I’d agree. After all, we live in a society where there is even a website called Weird Things. However, I still believe if you’re only casually sight-shopping through a consumer-oriented chain store, it’s hard to find many products odder than a giant, heavy, mass-produced Beagle head with a small clock in its upper body.
G.W. and I started to laugh because someone, somewhere, thought it was a good idea to invest their money in this item. The manufacturers assumed there would be a demand for Lord Doghead at the retail price of (per the tag) $179.99. They made more than one of them. And they were probably surprised to see their regal gewgaw end up at Tuesday Morning and discounted to only $79.99.
I loved Lord Doghead. When I came across an artist friend of mine, I pulled him into the store, insisting he view the glory of my find. “What in God’s name is that?” he asked and I said, “Lord Doghead”, and we both laughed. I went to Tuesday Morning three times over the next two weeks, not caring if I found a steal on a doll or not, because I knew I’d have my plaster Beagle to brighten the day –
…and then it was gone. Someone had bought Lord Doghead. For a few frightening seconds, I was worried that Glynn had purchased it but a quick text revealed our home was still statue-free. I was both relieved…and sad. G.W. was sad when I told her, too. (Glynn wasn’t sad, he just wondered why I thought he might have carried it to the cash register. “Because you do that kind of thing,” I said.)
After that, our local Tuesday Morning store wasn’t the same for me. Oh, I’d stroll through the place from time to time but it just didn’t have the same kick. Until last Saturday, when I heard G.W. exclaim, “What in the name of all that is holy is that?” – and I was able to say,
If you’d care to argue that there are weirder things in the world, I’d agree. After all, we live in a society where there is even a website called Weird Things. However, I still believe if you’re only casually sight-shopping through a consumer-oriented chain store, it’s hard to find many products odder than a giant, heavy, mass-produced Beagle head with a small clock in its upper body.
G.W. and I started to laugh because someone, somewhere, thought it was a good idea to invest their money in this item. The manufacturers assumed there would be a demand for Lord Doghead at the retail price of (per the tag) $179.99. They made more than one of them. And they were probably surprised to see their regal gewgaw end up at Tuesday Morning and discounted to only $79.99.
I loved Lord Doghead. When I came across an artist friend of mine, I pulled him into the store, insisting he view the glory of my find. “What in God’s name is that?” he asked and I said, “Lord Doghead”, and we both laughed. I went to Tuesday Morning three times over the next two weeks, not caring if I found a steal on a doll or not, because I knew I’d have my plaster Beagle to brighten the day –
…and then it was gone. Someone had bought Lord Doghead. For a few frightening seconds, I was worried that Glynn had purchased it but a quick text revealed our home was still statue-free. I was both relieved…and sad. G.W. was sad when I told her, too. (Glynn wasn’t sad, he just wondered why I thought he might have carried it to the cash register. “Because you do that kind of thing,” I said.)
After that, our local Tuesday Morning store wasn’t the same for me. Oh, I’d stroll through the place from time to time but it just didn’t have the same kick. Until last Saturday, when I heard G.W. exclaim, “What in the name of all that is holy is that?” – and I was able to say,
“Monkey butler!”
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