I'm (not) happy for you

 

                                                         

if only it were possible

 

Maximum withdrawl

So sez the sign on an ATM in Limon, Colorado, spotted on the tail end of our five hour drive back from Kansas.
A sunny clear day, the wind blasting across the plains so hard that tumbleweeds became projectiles, and the walk from car to gift shop required a military-style crouch and then a dash across open parking lot, hands over vulnerable eyes, later picking grit out of our ears and bare arms.
This was the West (my home is Seattle which is considered too liberal-left-coasty to be truly Western) where the welcome was genuine, if subdued, and flag couture and lite beer and drawls seemed de rigueur.

Truth in advertising

This needs no commentary really.
Crap on sale, courtesy of the same genial shopowner I wrote about a few months ago.

Low riders

Funny, no?

This sign is posted in the window of Not a Number Cards and Gifts in Wallingford. The owner caught me snapping a picture yesterday--remember my phobia about getting "caught?"--and asked that I send him a link to my Facebook blog (he he) which I'll do.

It's a cool shop, jam packed with kitschy, funny, even naughty items. My co-worker and I purchased foam rocket launchers here (because nothing says "good morning colleague" like a foam rocket to the solar plexus). The shop celebrated Festivus a few days ago. They'll even give you a 10% discount if you've shopped with other merchants in the neighborhood, even my nemesis, Trophy.

And, the sign cracks me up, especially the hand-drawn boxer-exposing low riders.

George/Georgette

I chuckle every time I walk under the Aurora/99 overpass in Fremont. In addition to the "official" highway sign featuring Geo. Washington, there's another one painted on the concrete pillar. Only the ad hoc George has a bigger nose, a stronger jawline, and a substantial chignon.

The eyez have it

I happened across this menacing garage door one Saturday when I was wandering around trying to find Essential Bakery.

I liked that it was a burst of exoticism in an otherwise ordinary landscape--a careless half-tone wall, unremarkable metal siding, a bent drainpipe. And yet someone took care to center the eyes and the snake-nose, and to level the painting against the angle of the door.

Because where would you be if the evil eye were off kilter?

Doctored signs are wondrous

I have a lot on my mind but today's note will be brief.
This is the first of a bunch of altered street signs I'll be posting.
It's by far the silliest.
How cool would it be if crosswalks were patrolled by the likes of Edward Scissorhands?

This seems permanent

All hoity, no toity

I loved this "no public toilets" sign at the place that used to be Matt's Hot Dogs on 45th and the Ave.

Not only are the generic man/woman in agony, the jaunty dawg--a holdover from Matt's, I think--seems to be enjoying it all.

A dress code with soul

Misspelled signs crack me up.
Wait...or is it, mispelled signs...crack me up?

Signs that are spelled wrong crack me up.

Which leads to some fractured grammar.
At any rate, I liked this one, at Fusion Lounge on 45th.

YES to a shirt with soul. Who can argue with that?