We went to the Museum of Natural History this weekend where we saw the remains of one of the largest lobsters found off the shore of Nova Scotia. His (her?) name was Francis and he obviously had a stay of execusion from a fate of boiling water and melted butter since his (her?) shell never turned rosey red. I'm not sure how they knew the lobster's name was Francis considering every lobster I met was just called 'dinner' or the more reverend 'church supper'. Perhaps it was tattooed on one of those massive biceps? How about I just refer to it as Frankie from now on? Yes. Frankie it is.
Anyway. My daughter frankly didn't give a sh*t about Frankie and was not impressed that I used her for scale.
Gee, I wonder how much Frankie would cost at the current market value for yummy crustaceans? I also wonder how much my head would cost if it was made of veal? I have The Kids in the Hall to thank for that one. Heck I've been wondering about that veal question for over 20 years. Sometimes I wonder if these are the thoughts I shouldn't share with the world? Oh well, too late.