My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 416

Episode Date: December 30, 2024

This week’s hometowns include a childhood hobby and a petty solution to a problem. Support this podcast by shopping our latest sponsor deals and promotions at this link: https://bit.ly/3UFCn1g. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This is exactly right. a home-cooked meal on the table. With flavor-packed recipes like crispy chicken parmigiana, you'll be filling your kitchen with the cozy aromas of a homemade meal in no time. Visit hellofresh.ca and use code Spotify for your exclusive offer. This is an ad from BetterHelp. This holiday season, do something for a special person in your life.

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We have no choice. You will not stop filling up our email box with these stories. That we love. That we love. Okay. The subject line of this one is marshmallow explosion. Great. And then it just says sort of hometown.

And it starts salutations, etc. So this is being written by a spider named Charlotte. Ready? Just listen to the recent-ish episode about the Sun Valley Mall disaster and it jogged a memory of what I guess can be called my non-murder hometown, also from the 80s. I kind of love that idea. Do you have a story of some crazy shit that happened in your hometown?

Yeah, it's like the balloon, what's it called, release. Like, what is the fucked up thing that they're like, this will be a great idea in our small town. You don't have to have even witnessed it. You can just say, this is the crazy thing that happened in my hometown. Yes, that's exactly what we want. Do you have the world's biggest ball of twine?

You better write in. Okay. In May 1988, in Las Vegas, a residentially-based chemical plant called the Pacific Engineering and Production Company of Nevada exploded multiple times, killing two people and causing $100 million in damages. In today's money, you want to guess it? A hundred million in the, in when? 1988.

Oh my God, that's got to be 800 million? 222 million. That's a lot still. It's so much. I just, I went for it. Okay. There are disagreements over exactly how the fire that led to the explosion started, as well as what exactly caused the explosions themselves, but it seems to have been some

combination of a natural gas leak, spark welding, and a highly volatile rocket fuel component stored at the site. Let's get that rocket fuel separate. Let's put that. In the desert. The explosions also triggered an explosion at the next door, Marshmallow Factory. Which given I was five years old when this took place is pretty much the only thing I remember. I texted my mom, Nancy, about the disaster. And since she didn't have a squishy child's brain when we lived in Vegas in 85, she had a bit more to say. The rocket factory was in Henderson in a neighborhood.

No one knew it was there until it exploded. You got to tell people. You got to let them know who their neighbor is. Just a real low key, like it said David's bridles on the outside, but inside their mattress firm. That's unfair. And then it says, right next to it was a marshmallow factory. We went up and looked at it the day after, and there were puffs of marshmallow all over the cacti, and men in white suits looking for radiation. That smelled so good. Smelled so good, but Nancy's pulling her child right up to the curb being like,

let's get in here and see marshmallows and radiation. Smell the radiation. When it happened, you were with your father at the post office and the two of you felt the explosion and the post office window waved back and forth. Whoa. I love this. Your mom reminding you of what happened. I was teaching, the force of the explosion knocked plants off the top of the lockers

in my classroom and it felt like I had been kicked in the back. Crazy. I was the one who was responsible for going outside and making sure all the kids got in because we knew something was coming our way. But we didn't know how bad it was going to be. As teachers, we were making preparations for keeping the children overnight until we got word that it wasn't anything lethal and the buses would be coming for the children. Not only nothing lethal, what's coming is the children's greatest dream. A 10-foot wave of marshmallow fluff. So, yeah. It's got a little radiation, but don't worry about that.

It's kind of just a bit of spice. Yeah, seasoning. So yeah, stay sexy and don't store volatile chemicals next to marshmallow factories, Jen. Yeah. If you're going to keep that a secret from the town, then you have to double pinky swear that you won't explode the fucking place. It can't be in a neighborhood. No.

Secretly. You just can't do that. And then you're like, we had rocket fuel welding sparks, and we had five-year-olds lighting matches. That was in one room. Right. And then over here, it's like, please. Well, no one said we couldn't do it, because we didn't tell anyone that we were doing it.

We're innovators. It's kind of on you guys. We're rocket fuel disruptors. Okay. This one's called an Internet Predator Story. Hey, hey, hey. My name is Chloe and boy do I have a story for you. When I was about 11 years old, AOL Messenger and Yahoo Messenger were very popular.

My dad very graciously and soon after this story happened, probably regrettably, allowed me to use Yahoo Messenger to talk to my friends. There were rules, however, to make sure that I was safe, thank God, in chief 11. Weekly, my dad would review my friends list to make sure that he knew everyone and he also limited my time to about an hour a day. Most days if I got a new message from someone, I showed my dad and got approval. But on one fall day, my dad had run out for something and left me alone briefly on Messenger.

A message of hi popped up from someone I didn't know and I still remember his screen name, which was my zip code in Wisconsin at the time. So it was a name and then a zip code. Due to this, I asked the person, hi, do I know you? To which she replied, no, I I know you? To which he replied, No, I just found your profile on Yahoo profiles, something or other and thought to send a message. Did you have aim or like, did you have this service? I had aim. Yeah. Could they know who you were or how old you were anything like that? I didn't have any of this. It was like I was drunk in a gutter at this point in my life. Okay. Yeah, they could tell, cause you had like a profile, you know,

and it'd be like, and you tell all about yourself and everything. And then you'd also be in like chat rooms that kind of gave away your age a little bit and that sort of thing. So yeah, I was pretty, like not a ton of info, but enough info that they knew that you were a child. Enough info that I have a stomach ache right now.

Okay. Yeah. That like, this was the Wild West. Yeah. And then I said, I didn't have a profile anywhere. And then I asked, okay, how old are you? To which he replied, I'm 26. For a reminder, I'm 11. I immediately stopped communicating,

making a note to let my dad know when he came home and signed off for the night. Smart kid. A few days later, when my dad did his weekly messenger check, he asked me about the screen name he saw and I told him what had happened. I said frantically, I swear I didn't do anything bad

and I meant to tell you and I forgot. To which he laughed and said, it's okay, I did the right thing to stop the conversation, but my dad used this as a learning opportunity. He sat down and told me men on the internet aren't to be trusted, especially older men, and proceeded to message the guy acting as if he was me. Oh shit.

Fucking dad is ready to fight. Dad's like, let's teach some people some lessons here. Yeah. Within 15 minutes, the man was asking for photos and then coaching, quote, me how to sneak out of the house and meet him nearly 15 blocks away at a local Taco Bell at 11 PM. Oh, fuck. Even describing his dark blue truck and license plate number. My dad immediately called the police

who met the man at Taco Bell and arrested him. Hell, I mean, Jesus Christ. I know. Like, this was a predator. This was not a fucking mistake. Right. The predator had his eyes all the way open. It wasn't like, oh, she catfished me. I thought she was 25.

Right. Right. A few days later, the police came to the house to let us know that the man had been released, because sadly, at that time, there weren't laws to protect children being solicited via the internet. And he hadn't done anything, quote, legally wrong. The cop apologized over and over but said we did the right thing. So I'm sure he's on the radar by now. Yeah. By then, at least.

I'm forever grateful to my dad for teaching me that internet safety lesson because had I been like most of my friends with parents who didn't understand the interwebs, I likely could have been abducted. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed my story, but I have to get myself back to painting. Stay sexy and don't talk to creeps on the internet. Chloe. Chloe, I don't know if the word enjoyed would be the one I would use for having heard that story because it was a bit of a nail biter, but God bless your dad and your very adult 11-year-old brain that's like, okay, I need to let people know.

Like really a perfect 11-year-old for the early ageing days. Totally. The holidays can be overwhelming for everyone. Shoppers want convenience and retailers need to stay organized. That's where Shopify Point of Sale comes in. You can turn your holiday rush into... Shopify's point of sale system is a unified command center for your retail business. It seamlessly integrates in-store and online operations even across more than a thousand

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That's squarespace.com slash murder and use promo code murder to save 10% off your first purchase of a website or domain. Goodbye. The subject line of this email is my childhood balloon hobby. It says hello to the beautiful team of MFM and exactly right. I love everything you do. You guys have been a huge part of my weekly routine since I was 16 years old. And then in parentheses it says I was the teenager you guys were yelling at for being

a younger listener. Hey. Hi. We cater to every demographic. Can you hear Mimi purring loudly into the microphone? No, I can just, but I'm watching her when you stop petting her, slap you with her paw. Full claws. Full claws out.

Like, I just don't want to like, I want to protect her. She's full claws and she'll bite if I don't do it. Yeah. She's like, we are doing something. I don't care about your podcast. Anyways, I was listening to episode 451 and was reminded of my own balloon endeavors as a child

and had to write in. I have always been the type of person to pick up a random, oh I guess episode 451 was lawn chair Larry, the man who flew in his, weather balloons flew in a lawn chair, and survived and lived to tell the tale. It's a good one. I've always been the type of person to pick up a random hobby every summer because of an undiagnosed ADHD. Hi. Me too. And did so like clockwork as a kid.

My mom was a teacher and my dad worked full time, so picking up a new hobby kept us kids busy during the summer and out of my mom's hair until I was around nine and I decided to pick up the hobby of making balloon animals. I love that. Right? I didn't even like think of that as a thing you could learn. But yeah. This is a crafty person that thought this up.

They were like, I'm not doing the usual hook rugs or whatever. Hook rugs, that's the most 70s thing I've ever said in my life. While searching our craft closet, what? Yeah, sign me up for that. Why don't I have that now? I'm so furious right now on behalf of my inner nine-year-old. While searching our craft closet,

it came across... Our version of a fucking craft closet was like me looking through old photo albums of my parents just being like, I wonder who these people are. Like, just nothing interesting. There was nothing. There was a couple of board games with tons of missing pieces and dust bunnies, and that was it. And a big F you. Okay, so sorry.

Back to the email. While searching our craft closet, I came across a bag of those skinny balloons, a hand pump, an instruction book on how to make balloon animals. I have no idea where the book or supplies came from, but I made it my mom's problem all summer long. Imagine trying to enjoy your summer evening, and all you hear in the distance is the high pitch sound of balloons squeaking together for hours on end with the occasional pop.

Oh my God. The hand pump did end up going missing one day and I was unable to find it, thus ending my early beginnings to being a child clown. I'm pretty sure my mom hid it, but only after I had already made 40 balloon animals that summer. Holy shit. Wow. What do you like? Do you like rhinoceroses? Yeah. What are you? Want a snake? made 40 balloon animals that summer. Holy shit. Wow.

Do you like rhinoceroses? Yeah. Do you want a snake? Okay. Thank you for everything you do and being there when things got tough. You guys have been with me through two graduations, the pandemic and the strike as I was a fresh film grad when it all went down. Stay sexy and don't let your kids pick up clown hobbies. Brooke C. She did. Wow, that's cool.

Yeah, let us know your weird childhood hobbies. But you know what I was thinking? I wonder if Brooke's mom or parents put just random hobby things in their craft closet and was like, I know this kid likes to pick up random shit. If I say, you know what, you should try, they're going to tell me to fuck off. Right. So here are 10 different options. Someday she's going to look through it, go find it. Right?

Yeah, exactly. Well, yeah, because I wonder if it's like, they're strategizing behind the scenes. Yeah. That's what you're saying. Yeah. Like have something ready for them. Something interesting, but that they can kind of discover. Yeah. I mean, God, that would be amazing parenting. That really would be. Oh, that was sweet.

Tell us what your weird childhood hobbies were. My friend had the largest collection of Snoopy memorabilia. Really? Like dolls. I got really into collecting Mrs. Grossman stickers, of Snoopy memorabilia. Like dolls. Really? Mm-hmm. I got really into collecting Mrs. Grossman stickers, which were those like heart teddy bear bow. I really got into them.

And then I thought I tried to sell them at school and people were like, we don't need this. We already have our own. I have sticky stickers. You can buy, I got like a box for Christmas and I was like, you can buy them through me. People were like, we don't know what you're talking about. See, Karen, you were in the merch from a very early age. You just didn't know it.

Yeah, that's right. It's in our blood. Okay, this one's called, oh, this one's called, Of Course You Can, A Petty Solution. Hi Karen, Georgia and the whole MFM crew. I came across your podcast a few months ago at the best time as I had already watched every true crime series, documentary, and movie on all the streaming platforms. So naturally I've been binge listening to your podcast at an alarming rate. I love everything you do and all your content.

Please never stop being your amazing selves. Okay. I was listening to one of the mini-sodes where a woman mentioned she would go door to door for surveys and one man played dead in his car so he didn't have to talk to her. That's good. I forgot that one. I did too. So good.

It reminded me of the many things my dad has done over the years to get rid of unwanted visitors and callers. Aside from the time he cussed out the Jehovah's Witnesses that showed up at our house on Christmas, this story is one of my favorites. That's a bad idea. It's like you're celebrating Christmas the most lovely day with your children and all these things and they're like, hey, you know what? You shouldn't do anymore. I think that's, don't you think they're in there trying to pick off the like lonely people or the people who are having a bad Christmas somehow? There you go. Extra cynical in my opinion.

That's good. Okay. This is one of my favorites. Back when I was a kid, before the internet was widespread, the best way to look at businesses was the phone book. Great resource. Unless someone accidentally submits the wrong phone number in their little ad. This happened with our home phone number. A doctor's office had our number listed as theirs and we would constantly get calls from patients. My dad reached out to the Yellow Pages to report the issue, but only the doctor's office could call to resolve this. So my dad located their office and informed them of the mistake. They claimed there wasn't an issue and the number

was correct. Someone fucking doubled down and was like, no, you're wrong. I love those people. You mean factually provable, but you're still going to, you're going to go ahead and deny it. Yeah. I'm the front office manager and I refuse to admit that that's not the right number. Because I did it. I'm the front office manager, and I had a very difficult childhood with very critical parents. And so at this point, one more mistake

would feel like it would break me in two. Therefore, that number is correct that you see that is not correct on paper. Oh, god. Incredible. How frustrating for the dad. Like, I promise I'm not just making this up. Like, what are you talking about?

It's literally the new post-truth world we live in now, where people are just like, that didn't happen. And you're just like, well, okay, I guess, I guess it's whatever you say. Right. What the fuck? Oh my God. So cue several more weeks of back and forth of my dad trying to fix this issue to no avail.

Finally fed up, he decided to make this a bigger issue for the doctor and started, quote, scheduling patients for next day appointments whenever they would call. It wasn't long after that that the calls stopped. Once your office got full of people insisting that they had appointments, next day appointments, and getting fucking pissed off

that they didn't, oh, looks like I did make a mistake. My collarbone is broken, and you said I could come in as soon as possible. I like to sit and think about the absolute chaos and angry patients my dad unleashed on that doctor's office just to get some peace and quiet for himself. Stay sexy and don't piss off tired dads, Ali.

You're so right, Ali. And your dad was so right. Yeah. It's pretty diabolical and I love it. Yeah. It's a real solve. Sometimes the solve is not in fighting, but in agreeing. It's like, fine. Fine, I work for your doctor's office and I'm the worst employee of all time. With Uber Reserve, good things come to those who plan ahead. Family vacay? Reserve your ride as soon as you book your flights.

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But remember, the contribution deadline is December 31st. Open your Questrade FHSA online today in just a few minutes. The subject line of this email is, Albert Einstein was my third man. Hello, long-time listener, long-time emailer, just waiting for my big break. Hey. It's happening. You all recently did an episode about third man syndrome, something I'd never heard of but definitely experienced in my youth. And then it says in parentheses,

a long time ago. Sigh. When I was in high school, I would occasionally get to spend the weekend with my cool older sister at her college a couple hours away. She'd let me drink all the Boone's Farm wine my 15-year-old body could handle, which was not a lot. I felt so cool hanging out with her and her roommates in their ratty college apartment. Despite being a bit of a party animal, she was incredibly studious and was one of the few women in her chemistry program. My god. Did you ever take chemistry? Fuck no. Dude, I fucking attempted because I had this idea of myself, like I should be like more of an honor student in junior year. I tried to take chemistry and literally it took me like three weeks and I like, I think the first semester I got an F and then I was just like,

okay, I'm dropping this class. I don't. I never been qualified to be able to sign up for it. So, no. Above her bed, she had a huge poster of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out. You know the one. After a long night of underage drinking, I passed out in her bed

and had the most vivid dream of my life. I was sitting in a classroom as Albert Einstein stood at a chalkboard repeating the phrase, the answer is always neutral, in a thick German accent. I attributed the dream to seeing her poster as I fell into a deep drunk sleep. Later that day, me, my sister, and her boyfriend began the 90-mile drive back to my hometown. She drove, he rode shotgun. I sat quietly in the back, fighting the urge to puke. About halfway through our drive on a busy highway, my sister's face and body began to contort.

She was having a grand mal seizure. Her boyfriend immediately began to panic, shouting, what do I do? In that moment, Einstein's words rang out so clearly in my head. It was as if he was sitting right next to me. With zero driving experience or car knowledge, I calmly said, neutral, put it in neutral. Oh my fucking God. He frantically grabbed the gear shift and put the car neutral, allowing us to gradually slow down and drift to the shoulder before pulling the emergency brake.

Oh my fucking God. Incredible. I waited a long time to tell her about my dream as this experience was incredibly traumatic for her. Yes, yes it is. She struggled with epilepsy for most of her young life, but has now been seizure free for 10 years. Yay. She completed her degree and now works as a chemist

in the top of her field. Yay, women in STEM. I can't help but think that good old Albert was looking out for a fellow scientist like some kind of nerd guardian angel. Oh, I love it. Stay sexy and skip the bones, Emily. Oh, that's like third man slash matrix glitch. Yeah. Ish. Or like, I don't know, what would you call that?

I mean, it feels like all of those, like, what's just an incredible, unbelievable story that happened to you? Yeah, like a crazy coincidence. It's like there's a Reddit thread of like, what's something that happened to you that no one would believe? Right. Okay, send those to myfavoritemurderatgmail, please. We want to hear all of them.

And also post them to Reddit because they started it. Right, sorry, and give Reddit all the credit. Okay, my last one's called Elementary School Beanie Baby Ring. Hey, it was the 90s and the height of the beanie baby craze. Remember? I was around 10 and my brother was 8 and we were avid collectors of those stupid toys. Anyway, my greedy ass needed more money for Beanie Babies and at 10 didn't have a good way to get money. Teachers at my school were also collecting and would mention what Beanie Babies they wanted. And then it says, why was this something they talked about during class?

And I saw my opportunity. I made an inventory of my brother's beanie babies and took it to school to share with the teachers. With enough interest, I started slowly sneaking and stealing his beanie babies to sell to teachers at school. Genius. Entrepreneur. One day, my brother noticed his favorite, a generic-looking hound dog named Bones, was missing. After interrogation by my mom, I finally fessed up.

I was grounded and forced to buy him replacements, which cost about four times as much as I was selling them for at school. I wonder why they didn't go to the teachers and were like, you need to give those back, you know? Please don't buy things from children. Don't let children sell you stuff as a favor to the administration.

I think that dumb bones one cost me like $25 to buy. Lesson learned. Love y'all and the pod. When I started listening, I was a stressed out internal medicine resident and single parent and now I'm a bona fide physician with a supportive husband and mother to three amazing daughters, 16,

3, and 1. Jesus H. So amazing. I so admire your altruism, advocacy, and vulnerability. We admire you too for your accomplishments, your child rearing range, and the third thing. Entrepreneurial spirit. There it is. Stay sexy and don't be a greedy ass motherfucker or an adult who buys contraband from kids. HB she her. I think that's one of the points that you learn on this podcast is it's always the adults fault. If there's an adult child issue,

yes, like don't buy shit from children, person. Right. Yes. There's a lot of adults writing in to go, hey, when I was a kid, listen, this fucked up stupid thing that an adult did where it's like, great, good, yes. The children must know. All right. We've done it. All right.

Send us your stories, guys. Yes. Thank you for all your wonderful and delightful stories. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an Exactly Right production. Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck.

Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Liana Squalacci. Email your hometowns to MyFavoriteMurder at gmail.com. And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at My Favorite Murderer. Goodbye.