Greetings from the Omnigraphic Blogopticon. On view are vile sticky things dragged from the attic, snarky commentary on the world at large, and all-encompassing ennui. All that and a weird rubbery smell. A horrible time will be had by all.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Knock Knock

I'm sitting here at my computer after midnight, mostly because I can't sleep and there's nothing on TV, and I hear tires squealing and a huge "whooomph!" I put on my shoes and go have a look and in a row of newly-restored Victorian brick apartment houses there's now one with a car jammed into its front entrance. Either they're remodeling with the wrong tools or some guy forgot his keys.



Obsidian Kitten said...

In my neighborhood it just means you couldn't find a parking spot.

Severina said...

Considering the way people park around here I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, there wasn't a "No Parking" sign on it, so the porch was fair game.

Obsidian Kitten said...

Well, see. Now if there'd been a "No Parking" sign on it, things might have been different.

Or a sign like the one in your basement.

Things really ought to be clearly marked. "Please do not drive into the front of my house" or somesuch. Like coffee cups. "Coffee is hot." So's you know.

So how's the Noisy Orange Beastie?

WV: eekit -- Some new verb for trying to buy kitty litter by putting new stuff in my etsy shop?