We didn't find any in the particular Clement Street junk store we were in, but we did discover some space age tittie grippers. Let's start with the zipper pouch pocket bra:
FreeBra! Freedom for my titties! (Within limits, of course.)
The UnBra thankfully comes with a handy travel case. Because, otherwise, I guess you'd have to carry it in your pocket. Maybe you could get the pouch bra and put the UnBra in it.
Yet another Free Bra. Bitchin' hair, lady:
Somewhat confused by this. Is it a pastie with some added padding? Is it designed to hide or accentuate the purple nurple?
Oh yeah, baby, I'll fondle the fuck outta your fangle florals:
Body shapers:
Laura admires the padded ass panties, for that little sumpin' extra:
And, let's not forget this beautiful lime green padded bustier thing, which is cleverly named in glorious bedazzled jewels--"The Fidelity Defender":
Moving along from ladies' dainty underthings, we find more practical items, like this "bicycle wrench." Because you never know when you're going to need the ever-elusive 11.8mm size:
Perhaps your ashtray smells somewhat rank. Super Tiny Ball is going to change your motherfuckin' life, yo:
In addition to nutty variety stores, I also take a lot of iPhone shots of graffiti, wheat paste, stickers, etc. Have you seen Obama? The Republicans haven't--they said they needed an extension of tax cuts for people who make over a quarter million a year (i.e. for Republicans), and Barack turned and ran. Dumpster on Valencia:
Valencia sidewalk:
Flog a dead horse? Fuck that--jackhammer it. Also on Valencia:
The scrawl near the top says, "Don't call the Police. They won't come." There is no justice, there's just us...and we're whipping your ass:
Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel makes an appearance in Honolulu, courtesy of the US Postal Service:
Hawaii again:
Hawaii is notorious for having shit Mexican food. I didn't eat at this spot, but I'm guessing it couldn't be too bad, just from the art on the outside:
A nod to the 415, home of the burrito:
Saw Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job live at the Regency about a month ago. Someone put this awesome piece up in the alley outside:
Same alley:
This is for Eileen, Suzanna, Josh, et al:
Benders:
One of the inimitable John Geek bands (Fleshies, Triclops!, Street Eaters), Bobby Joe Ebola and the Children McNuggets:
Nart at Ritual Coffee:
Posing:
Muah!
Leave it to the Beav':
Buckshot. Those who know don't say; those who say don't know:
The stall in the men's crapper in the Buckshot. Sexy Sleestak stylie:
More from the Buck:
Star-bellied Sneetches:
All right. That's it for the graf, per se. A sweet moto will always get me snapping a photo or two, like this tits Honda 175 scrambler:
Thankfully, not all trends in SF are as lame as mopeds and fixed gears. There's been a proliferation of rat rod style pan and shovel chops and bobbers with bitchin' 70s disco paint:
Headlight fairing is the cat's nuts:
Clean is not scoring points on the Killing Machine. Always loved the look of heat wrap on pipes:
Risers are ruling. And that's some serious van conversion style paint:
Raccoon tail for the win:
This sick ass hardtail Triumph with a Jawa tank was parked in front of the Buck one night:
The bottom of the frame says "David Allan Coe":
Shotgun pipes, no front brakes:
All right, now on to the random snaps. Love lasts longer when it's set in concrete:
Dolly's painting: "NEW NOT OLD BUT OLD SCHOOL"
You may have already won (a fish):
This is at the Rockit Room. Can't believe I haven't hit it up yet:
'Course, if bacon isn't your thing, how about a giant fucking bag of wasabi-flavored, Mr. Squid brand dried squid? That shit is delicious and fun:
Hunter is possessed and/or an alien:
Had to fuck up my hand on some guy's head last week. He kept yelling about how he was from the hood ("Bruh!") so I gave him a knuckle massage:
Squeezing skills:
Dolly's school starts at 7:50 am, which sucks all kinds of ass when you work 5 nights a week until 2 am (and then start drinking...). The sunrises are payoff, though:
Technologically advanced:
My sister is a preschool teacher. One of her young charges painted this most bad ass bleeding eye ghost for Halloween:
I make a mean kebab. And yes, that is Lawry's Seasoned Salt:
Celebrate flesh:
Oh, but it's so much fun:
DPT's new "please don't beat us up" campaign is "Good People Tough Jobs." It was only a matter of time until that got rearranged. The bottom line says "Assaulting a parking control officer is a crime so don't get caught."
I think this was in a CVS in Fremont. Weird ass Santeria hocus pocus Latino holistic supplements:
Super Macho is some kind of poor man's Viagra, I guess:
It's the bull come that makes it so effective. Seriously, how does this shit get past the FDA? What next? Powdered rhino horn and tiger penis direct from China?
Well, that about wraps this one up. Just about. In addition to all the other shit on this blog, I'm a big fan of paranoid schizophrenic ramblings. Here's a choice schizo flyer that went through the mailboxes down Geary Street. "Last year 2009 Barack Obama was the first person to hit me with the dizziness, weakness, sleepiness, etc. to a degree that I could not stand up. Barack Obama did it in front of MRI technologists and others who might be able to see me through hidden cameras." I knew the President was in my head! They got your mind controlled!Be sure to click so you can read the good news in a larger font:
Be careful out there.
No comments:
Post a Comment