Gadabout 3: Fun with Wet Cement.

Remember: the game of Balderdash is still very much on and you must keep playing with me, or I will cry. To get to it easily, click on the rainbow-colored Balderdash link in the sidebar. Oooh -- pretty rainbow -- you know you wanna click on it!



My neighborhood is such a wealth of weird -- I've got more photos.



Moral of the story: be sure you're not drunk or functionally illiterate before you start writing things in wet cement.
















On a first glance I thought a baby dinosaur had escaped from a dinosaur egg. On second glance I realized that a baby dinosaur had escaped from a dried-out gourd. Either way, baby dinosaur on the loose! Lock up your little yappy dogs!


On second thought....don't.













My dearsweet grandmother would always put random words in quotes. As in:

Happy Birthday! "We love you" dear Marie.

I come from a cynical generation and rather than lending the sincerity and emphasis that she intended, these gratuitous quotation marks always looked vaguely sarcastic to me, as if Grandma were doing air quotes when she said she loved me. By the same token, this address plaque seemed a little nudge-nudge wink-wink: "Now, dear visitor, what do you suppose 'F' could stand for? Hmmmm?"









Flag-flying yard artists have a flag for every season of the year. Apparently spring is now represented by flowers and BBQ. But mainly BBQ.

















This cat didn't move a muscle all the time I was shooting pictures of it. I think it was paralyzed with embarrassment, poor miserable critter. Or mourning the loss of its gonads. Or could this be a new low in bad yard art?












My sweet poochie friend with the spiked collar. If you'd met him, you'd realize how hilarious the spiked collar is. Picture the Easter Bunny with a mohawk and you've got the idea.






















Strange...the Jolly Roger and the Union Jack, side by side. Patriotic British pirates? THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE ARE LIVING IN NUMBER 318??













Sweet little tulips, sweet little yard, sweet little decorative fence that barely comes up to hip level, massive snarling Rottweilers running in the yard. Can anyone say "lawsuit"?






















Someone loves me! (Oh, wait -- this is dated March 1985, when I was nine years old. My admirer was a pedophile. Rats.)












Three charmingly cryptic headstones were standing side by side in this yard. I especially liked this one. Forget the "beloved sister, daughter, blah blah." If I'm spending thousands on a block of granite, I want people to pay attention.

Perhaps, "Step not upon my head, dear friend, or you will meet a gruesome end."


What do you want on YOUR tombstone?









To be continued....