My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 361

Episode Date: December 11, 2023

This week’s hometowns include a haunted airplane and a dramatic dog named Lilly.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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What a life these celebrities lead. Imagine walking the red carpet, the cameras in your face, the design clothes, the worst dress list, big house, the world constantly peering in, the bursting bank account, the people trying to get the grubby mitts on it. What's your all about? I'm just saying, being really, really famous. It's not always easy. I'm Emily Loitany, and I'm Anna Leongrofi,

and we're the hosts of Terribly Famous from Wondery, the podcast which tells the stories of our favorite celebrities from their perspective. Each season we show you what it's really like being famous by taking you inside the life of a British icon. We walk you through their glittering highs and eyebrow raising lows and ask, is fame and fortune really worth it? Follow terribly famous now wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and add free on Wondry Plus on Apple Podcasts or the Wondry app. My city love Hello! Hello! And welcome to my favorite murder!

The minisode. That's right. Don't make us tell you that we read your stories back to you. You already know this! Yeah, you've earned any story, anything you want. You want to go first? Sure. This one, okay, so the subject line of this email

says, weird 80s memory of being forced to do something by my school that now in retrospect, I realize was highly unsafe and not well thought through. I love a long, so shell-selver-scene. Yeah. I love a long, you know, so shell-selver-scene. Yeah. I love it. Have you ever seen that picture of him on the back of, I think it's where the side bug ends that people put on the internet where it's like, wonderful children's book, the author,

and then it's like that picture and he looks so insane. No. So good. Okay. It says, hi, Karen in Georgia, first off. Thank you for all you've done to help normalize mental health care. I personally am very grateful. You requested weird 80s memories of being forced

to do something by my school that in now in retrospect, I realized was highly unsafe. So they put in the subject line exactly the call out for the subject that we wanted. Well, we said. Yeah, that's us. Don't remember that. That's why we love it so much, just because we said it.

OK, I realize it was highly unsafe and not well thought through. Here's mine. In second grade, so it was 1979 or 1980, the mom of one of my classmates came in for career day to tell us about her job as a nurse. The most exciting part was the hands-on, pass-around item she brought

to show us the cool things nurses get to do. It was a jar of mercury. You know, the mercury that used to be used in glass thermometers but was outlawed once folks realized it was a neurotoxin. Oh my god. And it says a neurotoxin in all caps. Anyway, the nurse mom handed a cylindrical jar about the size of half a pop can, which is Midwestern for a coat can. I wanna measure things by pop can from now on. Cause you know exactly the amount.

Exactly. It's dead on. To the first student and we passed it up in Downey Trove desks. All in all, it was about a cup of pure shiny spectacularly silver colored mercury. You know that my sister and I used to break open

the fucking thermometer and play with the mercury on the bathroom sink. No, yeah. I mean, it explains a lot, right? Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, accidentally drop it. And then just like, JMR fingers on it and watch it move around. And it would be away from you. Yeah, so cool, but slowly seep into your skin. And then just never been able to do math ever since. It's like reverse Spider-Man with math.

Oh shit. For powers that I don't understand equations. Yep. You get to be blissfully unaware of how algebra works for the rest of your life. Okay, that's horrifying. I didn't realize people did this, but I bet you it's because, and I'm shocked that this person's mom was a nurse or that this person who showed up was a nurse, because my mom, when she was taking our temperature, would talk us through it, and I think this is more

reflective of what I was like as a child and toddler, telling me the entire time not to bite on the thermometer. The entire time it to roll out around candy. Oh, that's right. Karen, you can't make it candy just by biting into it, back to the email. Okay.

But that's not even the highly unsafe part. We, this is going in I think Georgia and Lee direction. We were each encouraged to dip a finger into the mercury. Yeah. So we did every one of us. I have a very clear memory of holding the jar with my left hand and dipping my right forefinger into it all the way up to my hand. The only positive outcome of this in addition to a bunker story is the fact that I am one of very few people who can tell you what it feels like. Very few, but you're in that club too. What it feels like to dip your finger into mercury

and it is all caps awesome. It is, it was worth it. It was worth it. I don't need math. I'm a podcaster now. For real. Math would only hold us down. It's like dipping it into water so your finger is totally wet. But then as you pull it out, your finger is totally drying. Can't you do that with like rubbing alcohol? No, or you can just not do it. Just not do it.

They really don't make those thermometers anymore though, right? That's not something I can't do at all. Okay, great. I suppose that's why this was such a treat for all of us because it really was a singularly memorable experience. I've never felt another substance like it. Please just take my word for it though because Mercury is, as I said, a neurotoxin in all caps. Stay sexy and don't dip your finger in the jar even if everyone else is doing it. Ruth. Oh my god. What were we all doing? Incredible, Ruth. I mean, they were trying to kill us actively and we were. Oh, really?

And then they got those, they replaced them with those little paper disposable thermometers that would cut that under your tongue. Maybe you were out of elementary school by then. Yeah, it sounded black. But they were like this plastic, hard plastic that just slicked that part of your tongue. Oh, was it shorter than a normal? Yes, it was a little bit shorter. I think I remember those. Okay, this is called, I fly a haunted airplane.

Hmm. Hello ladies, friends, And everyone else ignoring work responsibilities by listening to this podcast instead. Hey. I have been listening to you all for years and finally realized I have a story for you after listening to the Russian Cosmonaut podcast a while back. Remember when they knew he was gonna die

and I sent him up anyways? Oh, yes, yes. And then it's like, haunted shit. I thought they were referencing just another podcast about a Russian cosmonaut, where it's like, okay, tell us the name. We'll listen to it. I'm gonna listen to that.

Nope, again, it's us. It's us. All right, and we forgot. I'm a pilot for the Air Force, and unless you're flying a new fighter, we all fly some pretty old airplanes. All the aircraft I fly are over 50 years old and have been outfitted throughout

the years to keep up with the times. There aren't that many of my variants, so you know all the different tails, quirks, their histories, and which like to break more often than the others. One of them, however, has a bigger reputation than most. It has always had unexplained electrical issues and many swear that it's haunted. How did plane? it's haunted. How did plane that's horrifying? Who to thank? Isn't it hard enough driving a plane flying a plane, parking a plane without a ghost standing behind you?

Stick to boats. Can you imagine if you were trying to park a plane and the girl from the ring starts crawling up the aisle toward you? How difficult that would be? No, I'd be like, what are you doing? And do you know how to parallel park a plane? Get up here and help me. For example, maintainers working on the jet

while on the ground have heard people walking up the aisle when they know they're the only people on board. Some have heard their name called out, thought they were being summoned and climbed out of the airplane, only to discover there's no one around. Their own name. Are they trying to get the people off the plane so they can have the plane? Maybe.

Darn it. What? I like Mercury. And lastly, but definitely not least, it caught fire on takeoff a few years ago. And fun fact, it was that pilot's first flight as commander. No. And that says, he's the reason we all pray for a good first flight when we're done with training. But hey, at least we got to keep the burnt out metal hole from the top of the fuselage. And it now hangs in my squadron's bar. Badass. I remember learning all these stories and thinking it was

just people making stuff up. Old stories getting a little crazier every time they're retold, until a more senior pilot informed me that during the Korean war, this specific tale was a quote, body mover. It brought troops killed in action home. At first, this gave me the heebie-jeebies and then it says, wow, never had to spell that out before. But then I remembered that it was all our boys coming home one last time. So hey, the jet probably is haunted, but it's old military members messing with the younger folks, and that brings me joy. Thanks for taking the time to read this and forgetting me through a lot of long days on maternity leave. Stay sexy and remember the ghosts are on our side.

F. Oh, I like that idea. I do. It's just hard for them to communicate, you know, as it can be sometimes, so you have to throw books across the living room and off the mantle and stuff. Yeah. I'm on the ghost side too. What if your partner developed 21 new identities, or you discovered that your friend who helped

you through the darkest times was actually a conniving con artist, or what if you began seeing demons everywhere, inhabiting people around you, including your son? What would you do? I'm Whit Missildine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events Told by the people who lived them. In our newest season, you'll hear even more intimate first-person accounts of how regular people Have overcome remarkable circumstances like the man who went to jail for 17 years for accidentally shooting the person who tried to save his life. To a close friend of the infamous scam artist Amanda Riley.

These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you, this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening on the Wondry app or ever you get your podcasts, and you can listen to this is actually happening ad-free on Wondry Plus. If you need a new addition to your weekly true crime lineup, there's a podcast you need on Wondry Plus. week, hosts Aaron and Justin sit down to discuss a new case or crazy occurrence and they cover everything. From mysterious disappearances and shady murders to the mysteries of Skinwalker Ranch and the outrageous Pizza Gate scandal. Over at Generation Y, they cover every angle and every theory, walking you through the forensic evidence, and sometimes even interviewing those close to the case. The Generation Y podcast is a classic True Crime Podcast, and with over 450 episodes, there's a case for every True Crime listener. Follow the Generation Y Podcast

on the Wondria, or wherever you get your podcasts, and you can listen to the Generation Y Podcast and free on Wondria Plus. This just starts here y'all. Love the show. Thanks for all you do. My grandmother was a sweet, warm, hardworking, badass, Sicilian immigrant, whose kindness and perseverance has shaped my life. Having grown up in poverty during World War II, she was incredibly generous and always stressed the importance of giving what you can. In her retirement, she showered my sister and I with gifts for birthday and Christmas,

making sure we knew that even if we didn't get the exact same gifts as one another, the value was the same. She wanted to make sure neither of us felt undervalued or overlooked. It was one of the many ways that she made sure we knew her love was unconditional, unwavering, and complete. That all I know is not sweet. That all being said, when the time came for my sister to get married, it was no surprise to anyone that she contributed by paying for the desserts, a wedding cake and a full Italian cookie canole spread. Aka not cheap. In addition to this, she gave my sister and new brother-in-law a sizable cash gift to start their married life. Several years later, at the age of 86, my beautiful grandmother passed away from cancer. She was dealing with a few other conditions at the time and ultimately decided she didn't want to

endure cancer treatment just to live a few more years. Man, that's badass. She lived a good long life and was meticulously cared for by my mother until the end. Ever the pragmatists, mom and grandma got everything, quote-unquote, in order for grandma's passing. This included funeral instructions, updates to the will, and adding my mom on all her bank accounts to make closing them easier. Truly, they thought of everything. When grandma passed, I flew into town for the funeral,

and my mom shared with me that as she prepared to die, my grandmother brought my mom into the basement of our shared home, led her to a seam in the insulation and peeled it back to reveal a mason jar wedged inside the opening of a cinder block. Inside this mason jar was roughly $5,000 in $100 bills rolled up in bundles of a thousand. Holy shit! And wrapped in tin foil in case of a fire. Oh my god.

Brilliant. This is the best. interrupt in tinfoil in case of a fire. Oh my God. Oh, brilliant. This is the best. She then explained that this money, too precious to be entrusted to the bank, of course, was set aside for my future wedding. Oh, so she could all grandma have equal. Oh, no, equal, equal. She also explained that the overall sum was more than her contribution to my sister's wedding

because she was suggesting for inflation. Oh my god, I love this woman. I was chronically single at the time and it would be years before I met my fiance and had the pleasure of ordering an absolute shit ton of pastries for my reception. Oh my god, I want to cry. To this day, the care generosity and general snakiness of this gesture continues to warm my heart. I loved my grandma. She loved me. And now everyone at my wedding with a fistful of canolies will feel it too. Stay sexy and squirrel away money and walls for future

generations. Elizabeth. Oh my God. I that one. Amazing. Nana, slash, hidden, wall treasure, slash, canollies. Slash, that very perfect and specific grandma love. Yeah. If you get a grandma that knows how to do it, what grandma is doing is making up for all her fuck-ups with your mother. If usually it's the maternal grandmother. And she is going to extra love you and extra care about you because she knows the thing she fucked up and you fully benefit from that. Yeah. I luckily had grandma Molly and grandma Thelma and they were just the loveliest women.

And same. So grateful. You had grandma Molly and grandma Thelma too? I had grandma Grace and grandma Anne and one too? I had grandma Grace and grandma Anne, and one was the real sweet, nice one, and then the other one was the Irish grandma that kind of didn't talk to you. But what I realized was she took care of babies

like they were a job. So she wasn't like, nicey, nicey. She made you eat spinach juice. Like she was kind of intense, you know, immigrant grandma, but then when you were a teenager, all you had to do was go to help her with the dishes and she would fucking gossip. Like, she said shit where I was like,

oh shit, this is what's really going on. Yeah, this is where to get that info. The best. She just had to be like old enough to be on her level, basically. Yeah, like you're an adult now, essentially. Come, let me, and you're helping me, so you get the fucking tea. Yeah.

This one is, I'm gonna read you part of the title. My babysitter's boyfriend took us for donuts. Pleasant greetings. You asked for it, and I'm providing it. So here is my sketchy babysitter story. Oh, I know, I remember asking for that. In the dawn ages of the 2000s, my siblings and I had a babysitter at name, BB. And I was always so fascinated by that

because we also had a hamster named BB at the time. Ha, ha, ha. Human BB was a nice babysitter, which he had an older boyfriend who would also come over without our mom's knowledge. For context, my siblings and I were probably around the ages of four, eight, and 11 with me being the youngest.

So Rihanna is 4. Okay. One night, BB's boyfriend came over in his old maroon car that had to have been from the 70s or 80s. He and BB were stoked to tell us that they were taking us out for donuts. At first, I was stoked too, until he pulled in to a big empty parking lot. That is when I learned the alternative meeting of the word donut. Yeah. My older siblings were having a blast, but Timid Little Me was, of course, petrified.

This man was going ridiculously fast and driving like he didn't have three small children in the back of his car. And then it says, with no seatbelts, I might add, because it's an old car, of course. Yeah, of course. What is this? Fast and the furious? I distinctly remember us all flying to this and that side of the back seat as he spun us in endless circles. Luckily, we made it home safely without incident. And Karen, our mom, was none the wiser. That is until the wiser. That is until the next morning.

As I mentioned previously, I was around four years old and had very little grasp on the concept of keeping secrets. So while I was at the breakfast table, I was yapping on and on about the previous night and how scary the donuts were. My siblings were nudging me to shut up, but I had no clue why. Flight clockwork, Karen walked in right as this was happening and was instantly furious as she had every right to be. Safe to say, we never saw human baby

or her boyfriend again. Stay sexy and don't take children for donuts. Reannon. Human baby is the best name. I didn't love you. I love you. I bet you, baby, was a huge stoner. Oh, for sure.

Don't you think, like, maybe a couple donuts, but you don't want to go do donuts for an extended period of time? Now I am. I'm getting busy fill-ups from Freaks and Keeks vibes here. Entirely. Right. It's basically her idea of babysitting

is like, you can be in the car with us while we go do our stuff. Right. Hey, you guys want to get donuts? Yes. Where it's like, you can be in the car with us while we go do our stuff. Right. Hey, you guys wanna get Jonah? Yes. Where it's like, you're fucking with children on purpose. You know that they think you mean the other thing and you better fucking swing by the donut shop after. Oh, absolutely.

That's a good point. Yeah. They didn't. Okay. Ready for my last one? The subject line is, my dog is an asshole and then it's as light-hearted Ready for my last one. The subject line is, my dog is an asshole, and then it says lighthearted, and it says dog pictures included.

Hi, all. Just finished Mindy Sew 342, where you essentially asked for stories of dogs being jerks in parentheses as I think that's what you said anyway. I'm in the middle of putting my Jack Russell lily in the tub to help with her arthritis and thought, and quote, this must be fate. You see, this little shit has more drama in her tiny body than literally any reality show past, present, or future. I could go on for hours about the theatrics she's pulled, but I'll opt for my absolute favorite story to tell. About eight years ago, my now husband and I moved into our first apartment together. One day, my husband threw a ball for Lily, but it bounced up and hit her in the eye.

She screamed. I checked for scratches in her eye and everything looked good. My husband was absolutely distraught. Here we were only a month into living together and he maimed the dog. I kept an eye on her for a few days, pun-not intended, and determined nothing was wrong with her. But she refused to open her injured eye. After two weeks of my husband babying her every second he could, he asked if we should take her to the vet because she was obviously injured. I was hip to her antics and told him to look away, but keep her in

his peripheral. Lohan behold, she opened the eye just fine. Oh my God! Diabolical! The second he turned to look at her, she shouted again. Oh, she was faking the injury for the attention and the trees. Oh my God, she was milking it. Once he stopped carrying her literally everywhere in our 600 square foot apartment, she knew the jig was up and you drop the act. Lily is now an old cranky lady. She and my daughter have the absolute sweetest bond, even though she hates kids. I got her for my

mom after she lost her dog to try to cheer her up. But when I showed her Lily, she responded, that's the ugliest dog I've ever seen. Cool. And then it says, she's been my writer-dye ever since. Aw. Stay sexy and watch out for attention-deprived drama queens, Nicole, she, her. And then it says, side note,

I was raised around dogs who were constantly getting hurt. And then it says, I lived on a farm with an unending population of groundhogs. And I know when it's something that requires a vet visit. If something seems off with your pet, please do not hesitate to take them to get checked out. Oh, that's very nice of you, Nicole. Yeah. And then you want to look at Lily?

Yay! Oh my God, that is a scruffy little baby. Look at her. She kind of looks like her and Blossom could be cousins. She does have Blossom vibes for sure. Oh my God, she's adorable. She's like a seal. Like a white seal.

She's a little white scrappy terrier with a look in her eye like, I know I did. I know. I don't care. We'll put it on our Instagram account. Oh yeah. Check that out. Check it out.

Okay, my last one, I'm not going to tell you the title. Hey sisters! The year was 2004 and my roommate and I just graduated college and moved from Orange County to Los Angeles. What the? Hey, more people need to do that. Sure. We had some drinks at our apartment before heading out to our nearest hole in the Wall Mexican food spot around the corner. Needless to say, I was already a six out of ten when we arrived. I love that. We sat at the bar and had all we could afford at the time, margaritas and free chips and salsa. The place was pretty empty, there was a man sitting to my right, and a couple down at the other end of the bar, but that was basically it. Two margaritas in, I was pretty tipsy at this point, and I started telling a story to my

girlfriend about a parking situation that happened to me earlier that day. I said, I was stopped by a meter maid. Wait, they aren't called meter maids anymore, right? What are they called? But drunk Karen. I essentially have to imagine drunk. We see a car. I was dying parked at car.

But there was a lady there and, uh-huh. We see a car? I'm sure I was loud and rambling and my friend was just laughing at me and shaking her head. Even the bartender chimed in. Does this story have an ending? That's when you never need to stop drinking

and fucking leave. I leave a big tip and get the fuck out of there. The bartender chimed in, shut the fuck up, you're driving me insane. Yeah, totally. Does this story have an ending? I spun around in my bar stool and playfully slapped the man next to me.

Oh my God, I've done that. And said, what do you call a meter maid? Do you know what I'm talking about? Say it. They call me Hermet. You know what I'm talking about? The man. They come here, mate. You know what I'm talking about? The man turned and looked at me like I was insane. It was Matthew Perry.

Oh, oh. With a dead pan, perfect Matthew Perry face, he said, no, ma'am, no one knows what the hell you are talking about. Oh. Ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha. Stunned it was him. My roommate quipped.

See, even Chandler doesn't know what the fuck you are saying. Ha ha ha ha. We're not the very least out for a drink alone. I mean, you know what, move to Montana then, because it's gonna happen. You're right, Ali. Well, I don't think he could move to Montana. I saw, like, the day after he died, there was a church in Brussels that changed their bells

on the church so that it played the friends theme. It was beloved. So sweet. So, I mean, truly. As I got up and started walking towards the other end of the bar, it dawned on me. I turned around and screamed as loud as I could, all caps, parking attendant, you guys, parking attendant. That's what a meter made us.

As if on cue, Matthew Perry said, still, we're still on this? Check please. And guess what? He paid our check too. Oh, I know. Last act, so know. Last act. So classy. Almost 15 years later, my friend and I still laugh about that night and how a stupid,

normal conversation made us feel like we were in a total friends episode. Stay sexy and get drunk enough to bring a famous person into your conversation, but not too drunk, or you can't remember to tell the story. Lindsay. In the beginning, she had written, I decided to resubmit this one as we just lost one of the funniest people of our generation. Oh, but I didn't want to read that too. That was a great story, wasn't it?

Also, I really imagined, because I really, of course got caught up in my part, and then that's all I was thinking about. But I imagine that Lindsay, you didn't sound like drunk Karen. It sounds to me with everybody else's reaction that you were so drunk, you were just kinda going blah, blah, blah. And you didn't make sense to anybody.

Yeah. There was no discovery. Like when you were like parking attendant, people were like, we still don't know. We didn't know what you... No, right. None of this. It makes no sense, which is, I absolutely salute.

I've gotten there before. Yeah, I'd like to think it was during the day. It's a nice day drink. Send us your embarrassing drunk story, send us your famous people running stories, grandma stories, asshole dog stories, baby sitter, things that you realize now that were dangerous. Right, good or bad baby sitter,

maybe there's like an amazing one. Amazing, but bad's better because that's're dangerous. Right. Good or bad, baby sitter? Maybe there's like an amazing one. Amazing, but bad's better because that's just how life is. Also stay sexy. I don't get murdered. You're bad. Elvis, do you want a cookie? Ah! This has been an exactly right production.

Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck. Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Leonis Kulachi, email your hometowns to my favorite murder at gmail.com and follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and on Twitter at my fave murder. Goodbye! Amazon music. You can support my favorite murder by filling out a survey at Wondry.com slash survey.