Thursday, March 19, 2015

My mind is in the gutter

Spotted this the other day on Jackson Ave, home of the hipster-famous Jackson Market, where every tattooed douchebag and his ponytailed bro come for turkey panani's pressed on fresh baked sourdough bread.

It caught my attention, because no less than 2 weeks ago, I too had my home address stamped painted onto the curb by an enterprising young man who told me he done two tours in Iraq.

I'm pretty sure that for some, claiming to be a Vet is nothing more than a marketing ploy. Nevertheless I have a soft spot for young boys and girls who have served.

But now I feel like I've been jypped.

For ten dollars all I got were the black block numbers against a stark white background.

What I didn't get was the crowning pineapple palm tree against the setting sun dipping into the azure blue waters of the Pacific. In the world of curb-painted addresses, this is the Rolls Royce.

And I mistakenly got the Ford Taurus. Which they don't even make any more.

I understand these are minor first world problems. A petty grievance at best. Particularly for some of you readers back east.

I understand it has been a brutal winter of snow, snow and more snow. But the weather is warming up. And with any luck your curbs will be visible by early May.

If you choose to have it painted, choose wisely.

1 comment:

george tannenbaum said...

We would do these in Manhattan, but there's no one around to sweep away the puke.