Since Benny works in film and TV production, he frequently sees amusing fake signs on set. But he was driving around town and not on set when he saw this one, and as far as he could tell, it was a real sign for a real church playground.
I’m sure if I regularly a) played in sandboxes, b) wore high heels, and c) went to church, this wouldn’t be such a mystery to me. Who can fill me in about what’s going on here?
Yesterday Benny found this enigma. Is this a Found Pet notice? Or is this something else? It’s very open-ended.
It doesn’t really say anything about a dog being found, and it doesn’t really say anything about there being a statute of limitations about when this dog was lost, and it doesn’t have any conditions about how a person might define losing a dog either.
Found Pet notice? Pet grief counseling? Or… could this possibly be Cole Porter‘s abandoned fifth verse to “Friendship”? I would call to find out more, but I’ve never lost a dog.
Benny keeps sending me photos from his trip home this evening, and I’m finding a disturbing lack of features in a lot of them.
Is the world glitching out? Did somebody forget to pay their Photoshop subscription?
A couple of months ago I bought some neon pink clogs. I’ve been doing a lot of unusual online shopping during this pandemic, but the neon clogs might be at the top of the list. I’m just… still not sure about them. Were they a mistake like that first flimsy laptop stand? Were they a success like those boxes of mini stroopwafels? Were they an “I’m gonna show Benny that these are completely practical no matter what he thinks” like those wire holiday garlands that I was going to wrap around the extension cords in the backyard because… uh, I know there was a reason I was going to do that. Hedge clipper electrocution risk reduction and nocturnal pest annoyance. Or something.
But the neon clogs. I guess I thought they were going to be hot pink. I guess I thought I was going to look like an Anteros renaldus:
Nope. They are brighter than that. Brighter than something called a jewelmark butterfly. All I have in common with the Anteros renaldus right now is fuzzy legs.
So what do I do with these besides wear them with black or gray clothing? They are 1983 neon bright. They cast pink light instead of shadows. I have never been so confused by an article of clothing that I actually own.
Right now the sky is an apocalyptic shade of amber and I can only see the closest set of hills from my living room window. If things start getting really bad here like they’ve been in Oregon and northern California, maybe I can wear these clogs and Benny will be able to find me through the haze if we get separated while we’re out and about. Wait – we don’t go out and about anymore. Because we’re still in a pandemic. Maybe I can start working on a concept Halloween costume – early ’80s MTV Anteros renaldus.
What? Halloween is cancelled?
Maybe these are my new gardening clogs.
Sooooo, since this whole global pandemic thing started, has anyone else gotten a handwritten letter in the mail
telling them that the letter writer wanted to share some comforting thoughts with them? And the comforting thoughts were from the Book of Revelation, a/k/a the real weird part of the Bible about the Apocalypse?
I know I’m not the only one, because Benny and Smoothie’s mom received a similarly addressed when I did, back at the beginning of May. We did not open that letter because when I read mine we got so freaked out that we immediately sealed it in a Ziploc bag and I washed my hands in boiling soapy water for about seven minutes, but I’m assuming it says the same sort of thing.
I finally decided it was safe to open the Ziploc bag again today, so I brought it to Benny to refresh my memory about it and the letter to his mom. He said he heard that the Jehovah’s Witnesses were starting to do this instead of going door to door during COVID-19. That totally makes sense in one way, as the letter and enclosed business card made reference to JW.org. On the other hand, if Renee here is really so excited about saying au revoir to this wicked world, why is she practicing safe distancing?
I don’t know, Renee. Thanks for the offer but no thanks.
This is a weird bag of trash to leave on the sidewalk. What’s it all about – squabble about dinner chores? Healthy choices fatigue?
Oh wait. There’s a sign.
Okay, it’s a memorial of some sort. A real kitchen rat, or has someone destroyed a copy of Ratatouille after too many quarantine viewings and now they’re feeling guilty?
I’ve been looking at this piece of graffiti near my house that’s on a bridge over the Glendale Freeway. At first I assumed it was a dog and shouted, “Aw, look at that guy!”
But the more I’ve looked at it, the more I’m convinced it’s a rendition of this guy:
Has a math-loving pharaoh moved into the neighborhood? Freemasons? Is the freeway really a Hall of Records for ancient Atlantis?
It’s probably a dog.
(UPDATE – Saturday, November 23rd)
It is the Sphinx! It is! Someone helpfully added the Great Pyramid of Giza to clarify:
A friend of mine who directs horror movies found this flyer the other day near his home around Griffith Park:
It’s too perfect, right? It can’t be real, can it? But it’s also too perfect to not be real. I don’t know what’s going on.
I also just realized that I know of at least one other horror movie director who lives in the general vicinity of this flyer. Is this some sort of new screenwriting pitch technique? YOWHOO!
All week I have seen this van parked outside of the Lycée International of Los Angeles.
I’m not sure if this belongs to the music teacher or the school bus driver, but either way I think this must be an awesome school to go to.
My friend Tori and I went to check out the wildflowers on Monday and for some reason wound up taking a detour around Lake Elsinore. I’d never been to Lake Elsinore before, and I found it kind of scary and kind of magical. We did not find Prince Hamlet nor any lake monsters but did come across an abandoned military academy that Bela Lugosi’s son attended:
and a lot of “Don’t Worry About The Dog, Beware Of Owner” signs. The strange part came when I suddenly needed to hear the “Milk Crisis” song from Sesame Street that another friend had recently shared with me. I dialed up the clip on YouTube,
we started singing along, and before we knew it, a dairy farm appeared:
It was a Dutch dairy and not a Danish dairy, but it was still rather remarkable. Lake Elsinore, what other mysteries do you contain?
Fancy Notions 