Lynda Wiesmeier: Cause of death, Playboy career, movies

Actress Lynda Wiesmeier gained notoriety for her roles in a few well-known movies.

However, one particular photo of her has drawn notice recently since it seems to offer a window into a bygone period.

Lynda Ann Wiesmeier, a blonde bombshell whose voluptuous form adorned the pages of Playboy Magazine, was born in Washington, D.C., in 1963.Her father was a doctor in the US Air Force, and Bitburg, Germany, was the starting point of her adventure. The family relocated frequently prior to Lynda’s eventual arrival in sunny Los Angeles. She also lived for a while in Bound Brook, New Jersey, where she established herself as a frequent Jersey coast sun worshipper.

Lynda enjoyed working and being active, juggling three professions: acting, modeling, and office clerking in a medical facility.

Playboy was drawn to her attractiveness in 1982, and they featured her as the centerfold of their July edition. Following her Playmate status, Lynda’s career in show business went into overdrive as she starred in movies that highlighted her gorgeous natural body. She starred in films like R.S.V.P. (1984), Teen Wolf (1984), Malibu Express (1984), and Real Genius (1985).

Last motion picture

However, her last movie may have been the one that made people take notice of Lynda Wiesmeier. She was chosen to play Dianne in the zombie horror film Evil Town in 1987.

The film featured the renowned Dean Jagger in the lead role of an insane scientist searching for perpetual youth. His approach? making a medication synthetically from human pituitary fluid, naturally. Things got worse as he was extracting the fluid; the poor donors’ brainless zombies were the product of the process.

In an intriguing turn of events, Keith Hefner, the younger brother of Playboy founder Hugh Hefner, was also featured in Evil Town. With Lynda and Keith involved, the movie had a strong Playboy vibe.

Though the movie was scheduled to open in theaters on June 3, 1987, there was so much anticipation that several theaters opened their screens a day early, on June 2. Nevertheless, Evil Town fell short of expectations despite the hype.

It was derided by critics who labeled it a “silly horror film.” Cavett Binion of All Movie Guide noted that the picture was a mash-up of footage from previous movies, including a 1970s unfinished effort, and that former Playboy Playmate Lynda Wiesmeier “spiced it up with some gratuitous nudity.” Hurt!

Fortunately, Lynda Wiesmeier was destined for a little return. In the years after its debut, a specific scene from Evil Town has become extremely popular for unknown reasons.

It’s not, however, for the reasons that one might think.

Scott Hunter, an almost unknown actor, appears on screen with Lynda in this unforgettable scene.

This appears to be your typical 1980s photo at first sight. A young guy and lady are posing in front of a Dodge automobile while wearing iconic ’80s clothing. But if you examine more closely, you might find something surprising!

Lynda is wearing high-waisted white shorts with a bright red blouse that is intricately knotted at the waist, while the man is wearing dark shorts and a gray hoodie with multicolored patterns all over it. Back then, short shorts were all the rage, and Scott wore his with one of those ubiquitous corduroy shirts.

Their vintage attire is a lovely return to the 1980s for many, since it screams ’80s fashion. And it’s just this that makes people swoon over this picture.

The 1980s saw a large, vivid, and dramatic fashion trend that we embraced, including glam rock, punk, and preppy designs.

We could experiment with hair, cosmetics, colors, and an abundance of plastic jewelry along with other wild accessories. And because to Lynda and Scott, we can sometimes be transported back in time to this amazing era with just a simple shot from a lesser-known movie.

departed the field

Following her departure from the film business, Lynda decided to start a family and married her first husband. She went on to have two amazing children, a son and a daughter.

The family made their home in Lafayette, Louisiana, where Lynda started working as a records manager at a legal firm, according to Joyce’s Take.

But then things changed, and in 2004 Lynda, ready to start again, packed her bags and moved to sunny California following her divorce. Lynda loved her relationship with her followers, even as she moved on. She became well-known at several fan events, sharing her experiences and signing autographs, such as WonderCon, Glamourcon, and The Hollywood Collectors Show.

Reason for demise

Sadly, Lynda’s adventure came to an end in December 2012, at the age of 49, after a valiant fight with a brain tumor.

Considering what she could have said about her time in movies like Evil Town, a nostalgic snapshot of a bygone period in movies, is bittersweet.

We can still honor Lynda’s legacy and the happiness she gave her admirers despite her passing. If you too miss the 1980s, please share this article!

My Neighbors Persistently Tossed Their Dogs’ Waste into Our Yard – My Retaliation Was Severe

Sometimes, you reach a point where you have to stand your ground, and that’s exactly what happened to me. This story is about how I went from being the laid-back neighbor to someone who served up a slice of justice with a little extra something on the side.

My name’s Mandy, and let me start by saying that I’m not one to hold grudges. I’m a firm believer in “live and let live,” the kind of person who prefers to keep the peace and not sweat the small stuff.

I live in a small, quiet suburban neighborhood. You know the kind, where everyone waves at each other in the morning and you can leave your doors unlocked without a second thought. It’s the perfect place to raise my two kids.

Our home has a charming little garden out front, complete with a white picket fence—the whole package, really. But as idyllic as it sounds, even paradise can have a few thorns.

The Thompsons — John and Sarah — moved in next door about a year ago. They seemed nice enough at first. They were in their early 40s, two big dogs named Max and Daisy, and had no kids. We exchanged pleasantries, borrowed a cup of sugar here and there, and I even gave them some of my homemade chocolate chip cookies as a welcome gift.

You know, just your typical neighborly stuff. But after a few months, things started to change, and not for the better.

Those dogs quickly became the bane of my existence. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but these dogs had a habit that was driving me up the wall. They’d do their business right at the edge of their yard, but they didn’t stop there. No, the Thompsons had devised a little system.

They’d wait until they thought no one was looking, scoop up the mess, and then—get this—they’d toss it right over the fence into my garden. It started off as an occasional thing, but before long, I was finding piles of dog crap in my flower beds nearly every other day.

At first, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Who throws dog poop over a fence on purpose, right? I figured it had to be some kind of accident. So, I decided to address the issue directly, hoping a friendly chat would solve the problem.

One afternoon, as John and I were both out in our yards, I decided to bring it up.

“Hey, John,” I said with a smile, trying to keep things light, “I’ve noticed some dog poop in my garden lately. I think it might be from Max or Daisy. Could you maybe keep an eye on them when they’re outside?”

John turned to me, his face breaking into a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not them. Maybe it’s your kids,” he said with a slight smirk, as if he were mocking me.

I was taken aback. My kids? Really? I wanted to argue, but I could see that John wasn’t in the mood to admit anything. I didn’t want to escalate things into a shouting match with my neighbor, so I decided to let it go—for the moment, at least.

But I knew I couldn’t just let this slide. They weren’t going to stop unless I did something about it, and confronting them directly hadn’t worked. So, I decided it was time for something a little more… creative. Something subtle, yet effective.

A plan started to form in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more deliciously petty it seemed. If they were going to keep throwing their dogs’ crap into my yard, I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine—literally.

Now, I should mention that I’ve always been a pretty good baker. My chocolate chip cookies are legendary around here, so I figured it was time to put that reputation to good use. The plan was simple: I’d bake a batch of cookies, but with a little twist.

The next day, I gathered my supplies—flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a little something extra. I’m not proud of what I did next, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I went out to my garden, put on a pair of gloves, and scooped up some of the offending material, sealing it in a bag.

Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify. I wasn’t about to use actual dog poop in my baking. But I needed something that would get the message across.

Instead, I headed to the pet store and picked up a bag of the smelliest dog treats I could find. These little brown nuggets looked just like chocolate chips, but they had a distinctly unpleasant odor. Perfect. I mixed them in with the real chocolate chips, baked up a fresh batch of cookies, and let them cool.

As the cookies baked, the scent wafted through my kitchen. The aroma of chocolate mixed with the pungent smell of dog treats created an odd, unsettling combination. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was exactly what I needed. I could barely stomach it, but I pushed through, knowing the Thompsons were about to get a taste of their own medicine.

Once the cookies had cooled, I carefully packed them into a shiny, decorative tin. To add a final touch, I wrote a note in my best handwriting:

“To the best neighbors, enjoy these fresh-baked cookies! – The Wilsons”

I chuckled to myself as I imagined their reaction, but I wasn’t done yet. Timing was everything. The next day, I waited patiently until I saw Mrs. Thompson head out, likely on one of her daily errands. With the coast clear, I darted across our lawns and stealthily placed the tin of cookies on their porch. Then, I retreated to my house, positioning myself near the window so I could observe the aftermath.

It didn’t take long for the chaos to begin. That evening, while watering my garden, I heard a commotion erupt from the Thompson household. The dogs were barking like mad, their deep barks echoing through the quiet neighborhood. Amid the noise, I caught the unmistakable sound of Mr. Thompson shouting, “What the hell is wrong with these cookies?!”

I couldn’t resist the grin that spread across my face. This was better than I’d imagined. I knew they’d discover that something was off, but I hadn’t anticipated just how quickly it would all unfold.

Several hours later, I overheard the Thompsons having a heated discussion in their backyard. Their voices were low, but they carried clearly across the fence.

“Those Wilsons gave us some kind of sick prank cookies!” Mrs. Thompson hissed, her voice filled with anger and embarrassment.

“They must’ve known about the poop,” Mr. Thompson replied, his tone a mix of frustration and guilt. “What are we going to do?”

“Just keep quiet,” she said, her voice firm. “We don’t want the whole neighborhood knowing we’ve been throwing dog crap over the fence.”

I nearly dropped my watering can. There it was—the confirmation I had been waiting for. They were guilty, and they knew it. And now, they realized that I knew too.

But here’s the best part: a few days later, something miraculous happened. The dog poop stopped appearing in my yard. It was as if by magic. My little act of revenge had worked, and I couldn’t have been more pleased.

Yet, the story didn’t end there. A few weeks later, our neighborhood hosted a BBQ, and the Thompsons showed up. They seemed subdued, keeping mostly to themselves and avoiding eye contact with me. But I wasn’t about to let them off the hook that easily.

“Hey, John! Sarah!” I called out cheerfully, waving them over with a plate of fresh cookies in hand. “I’ve got some more cookies for the party. Want to try one?”

Their faces went pale as they caught sight of the cookies. They mumbled something about being full and quickly excused themselves, practically fleeing in the opposite direction. I chuckled to myself as I watched them scurry away. The rest of the neighbors happily devoured the cookies, unaware of the inside joke between me and the Thompsons.

As the evening wore on, I overheard some of the neighbors chatting about the Thompsons.

“Have you noticed how quiet their dogs have been lately?” one neighbor asked.

“Yeah, and their yard’s been spotless,” another added.

It seemed my little act of creative revenge had not only solved my problem but had also reformed the Thompsons’ behavior. They were now the model neighbors, all thanks to a little ingenuity and a lot of nerve.

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