Now that's what I call awful, Vol. III

Saving the best for last ...


The sign remained like this for a MINIMUM three months. Definitely special-ists — and not in a good way.

Now that's what I call awful, Vol. II

In honor of the lesser-known every day vs. everyday:

Taken somewhere near Montrose. Saccone was with me at the time.

Now that's what I call awful, Vol. I

The first in a series of vintage finds from our archives:

These guys used to park this van behind my apartment complex in Colorado. Feel free to call and harass them. OK don't.

Not even DVD commercials can escape my wrath

Please note the incorrectly turned apostrophe:

Although, I must say it's a lot better than this situation.

You can stand under my umbrella's

Seen tonight before boarding a downtown 6 train: 

Oh, MTA. We hardly knew ye ...

NYC, you make 'em all postcards

Just when I thought the seedy bar near my work couldn't get any seedier, this morning I see they've rolled out a new ad campaign:


Happy Friday, and please don't go to this bar this weekend. Or ever.

Dear Blogger: What the crap, dude?

I just noticed all my photos from previous posts are, like, not there anymore.

Did I reach my pic-posting limit or something? A blog of this nature sans photos is no blog at all.

Anybody else know what might be up?