7 of the Worst Neighbors Ever - Oddee.com (bad neighbors, neighborhood...)

An elderly woman was trapped in her bathroom and needed help, so she started tapping on the pipes to get attention. Instead of knocking on her door or checking on her, her neighbors filed a petition to stop the noise. Nice!

She was trapped in her bathroom (and banging on pipes) for 20 days.

The booty of Helen of Troy was legendary.

Ha!

And check out these portraits in the style of Flemish masters. Very cool.

Those are amazing, but is that an opossum in one of those? Eeek! The one with the mallard is strangely comical.

So, is it possible for someone to die if he's passed out drunk and his friends insert a live eel into his ass?

I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.

I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.

Well, that's why I didn't post the details.

ION, this lady can break into my apartment any time.

Susan Warren, 'Cleaning Fairy,' Accused Of Breaking Into Home And Cleaning It

eta: Oh, but then she left a bill for the cleaning. Not cool, Cleaning Fairy.

The Remarkable Giraffe Weevil of Madagascar ~ The Ark In Space

I've never heard of these before. Damn freaky.

Although the species is not listed as threatened or endangered, little is known about it as it was only recently discovered (2008). However, the population is thought to be healthy and, remarkably, they are not predated by any other species.It is suspected that the eggs may be occasionally eaten by smaller bugs, leading the male to protectively hang around after mating, but even this is not proven.

The Cotton Gin refers to the alcohol consumed by those working on cotton farms.

I thought it referred to the card game played by those working on cotton farms.

Wait. No, that's Cotton Gin *Rummy.* My bad.

I firmly believe that the crucifixion is not something you can do to yourself simply because you do not have enough hands.

It is the "simply because" that gets me!

I have the world's crankiest pants today- I had a meltdown over a show I am doing (I work with the director) because he had misunderstood me about something, and now I have crying hangover.

More interesting portraits. (This time: painted.)

Speaking of ass deaths, an article yesterday taught me (via comments) of the following interesting method: Stick a hot poker up someone's ass, but do it inside a funnel-shaped thing to avoid external burns.

Obviously this would not get past a post mortem today, but at the time when it was supposed to happen...crafty. And the butt-funnel was a length of bone.

Of course, I can't remember who this was supposed to have happened to, nor who did it. Just--really hot poker in your arse.

More of the snake-handler who died after being bitten by a snake and refusing medical care: Why I watched a snake-handling pastor die for his faith - The Washington Post

Camera in hand, I watched as the man I’d photographed and gotten to know over the past year writhed, turned pale and slipped away, a victim of his unwavering faith, but also a testament to it. A family member called paramedics when Mack finally allowed it, but it was too late. Mack Wolford drew his final, labored breaths late Sunday night. He was 44.

The scene has been playing over and over in my head since then, and the questions are weighing on me: As a photojournalist, what role did I have in this tragedy, and what is it now, in the aftermath? Was it right for me to remain in the background taking pictures, as I did, and not seek medical attention for the dying pastor, whose beliefs forbade it? Or should I have intervened and called paramedics earlier, which would have undermined Mack’s wishes? Finally, what was I supposed to do with the images I shot?