There's always room for picspam
Time for a picspam post. A late picspam post to boot. I am nothing if not classy.
I was driving behind this the other day. Note the, um, "customization" circled in yellow.
This is what I call one of those "I'm awfully sorry about your penis" vehicles. You see, the more overt effort a man goes to - by way of his vehicle - to show how blisteringly hetero and manly he is, the more I assume his genitalia is SORELY lacking if not missing altogether. In some cases, particularly Hummers, I begin to assume the penis may be actually inverted. Not to the point that it's a vagina, because that would create a normal person. No, a completely embarassing what-the-hell-kind-of-monster are you inverto-penis. This man is probably at about the enuch stage, him and his jacked-up hootermobile. Either that or he's on his way to Rage in West Hollywood -- that could be, too.
Then we have the Strangely Amusing Neighbor Incidents that happened right around Thanksgiving.
I was vaguely aware that our neighbors at the end of the hall had moved, but as I never talked to them much anyway, it wasn't primary on my mind. I didn't even consider who might be arriving in their stead until I was walking the roommate's doglette (there's not enough of it to be considered a whole dog), just leaving the apartment when this tiny little bleached blonde woman in screaming neon pink pajama bottoms emerged from their ex-door.
"AAA! How CUTE!" she squealed, regarding the doglette. (Although I do keep hoping, that reaction very seldom happens in response to me.) Her voice was strangely deep, maybe a little cigarette-affected, and she spoke just a little too loud for the room. She fawned over the doglette and then said something that sounded like "We're watching Mary May's dog..." although I'm not at all sure what name she used, but it didn't matter because when I didn't respond in immeidate recognition she followed up with "Mary May the porn star?"
Uh, not familiar with her.
Again, didn't matter, because she soon went back to describing Mary May's Pekinese and how he YAPS! I was beginning to wonder if I was even needed for this conversation. The Pekinese was dutifully providing the proof of his yappiness through the door.
I said my goodbyes and moved on down the hall, thinking my own private thoughts. Houston, we have a character...
Then a couple of days later, on Thanksgiving, I went out to walk the doglette again. As soon as I opened the door it sounded like someone was vacuuming in the hall, but no one was.
I looked toward the new neighbors' door. I sort of couldn't help it.
LOOMING at the end of the (admittedly scenic) hall is one of those MASSIVE yard decorations that's powered by an internal ELECTRIC FAN and LIT FROM WITHIN and belongs, as mentioned, in someone's YARD.
Preferably someone's BIG YARD.
But no, it's here, in my just-above-a-crack-den hallway, head barely clearing the CEILING, generator howling like a banshee and accompanied not only Mary May-the-porn-star's Pekinese yapping but also Doglette who is apparently determined to scare it away with the sheer force of the most soprano yips ever produced in canine-dom.
I get the doglette past this monstrosity to get business done. When we come back, Doglette is completely over it, couldn't care less. We investigate. It's just bizarre.
I get a picture of it including Doglette for scale (although I'll leave it to you to decide how much scale a 5-lb. dog provides. Maybe I just included him to show exactly how much weirdness I was having to put up with that day: an 8 foot inflatable pilgrim jumping out at me as I'm babysitting a tiny topiary-shaped poodle. )
To their credit, it was gone before the end of the day. Or does that make them crazy for taking the trouble to put it up if they were just going to take it down? I don't know. Let's ask Mary May, the porn star.
I was driving behind this the other day. Note the, um, "customization" circled in yellow.
This is what I call one of those "I'm awfully sorry about your penis" vehicles. You see, the more overt effort a man goes to - by way of his vehicle - to show how blisteringly hetero and manly he is, the more I assume his genitalia is SORELY lacking if not missing altogether. In some cases, particularly Hummers, I begin to assume the penis may be actually inverted. Not to the point that it's a vagina, because that would create a normal person. No, a completely embarassing what-the-hell-kind-of-monster are you inverto-penis. This man is probably at about the enuch stage, him and his jacked-up hootermobile. Either that or he's on his way to Rage in West Hollywood -- that could be, too.
Then we have the Strangely Amusing Neighbor Incidents that happened right around Thanksgiving.
I was vaguely aware that our neighbors at the end of the hall had moved, but as I never talked to them much anyway, it wasn't primary on my mind. I didn't even consider who might be arriving in their stead until I was walking the roommate's doglette (there's not enough of it to be considered a whole dog), just leaving the apartment when this tiny little bleached blonde woman in screaming neon pink pajama bottoms emerged from their ex-door.
"AAA! How CUTE!" she squealed, regarding the doglette. (Although I do keep hoping, that reaction very seldom happens in response to me.) Her voice was strangely deep, maybe a little cigarette-affected, and she spoke just a little too loud for the room. She fawned over the doglette and then said something that sounded like "We're watching Mary May's dog..." although I'm not at all sure what name she used, but it didn't matter because when I didn't respond in immeidate recognition she followed up with "Mary May the porn star?"
Uh, not familiar with her.
Again, didn't matter, because she soon went back to describing Mary May's Pekinese and how he YAPS! I was beginning to wonder if I was even needed for this conversation. The Pekinese was dutifully providing the proof of his yappiness through the door.
I said my goodbyes and moved on down the hall, thinking my own private thoughts. Houston, we have a character...
Then a couple of days later, on Thanksgiving, I went out to walk the doglette again. As soon as I opened the door it sounded like someone was vacuuming in the hall, but no one was.
I looked toward the new neighbors' door. I sort of couldn't help it.
LOOMING at the end of the (admittedly scenic) hall is one of those MASSIVE yard decorations that's powered by an internal ELECTRIC FAN and LIT FROM WITHIN and belongs, as mentioned, in someone's YARD.
Preferably someone's BIG YARD.
But no, it's here, in my just-above-a-crack-den hallway, head barely clearing the CEILING, generator howling like a banshee and accompanied not only Mary May-the-porn-star's Pekinese yapping but also Doglette who is apparently determined to scare it away with the sheer force of the most soprano yips ever produced in canine-dom.
I get the doglette past this monstrosity to get business done. When we come back, Doglette is completely over it, couldn't care less. We investigate. It's just bizarre.
I get a picture of it including Doglette for scale (although I'll leave it to you to decide how much scale a 5-lb. dog provides. Maybe I just included him to show exactly how much weirdness I was having to put up with that day: an 8 foot inflatable pilgrim jumping out at me as I'm babysitting a tiny topiary-shaped poodle. )
To their credit, it was gone before the end of the day. Or does that make them crazy for taking the trouble to put it up if they were just going to take it down? I don't know. Let's ask Mary May, the porn star.