Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Trashy Makeover #1

I'm a sucker for trash.

Call it my trailer park roots or my projected affection for wounded animals, whatever. I saw a chair on the street the other day and forced myself to walk past it. As a bargain, I promised that if it was still there when I came back after body pump class an hour and a half later, then it was a sign.

Guess what. It was still there.

When I see an old rotting piece of furniture on the street, I think about all those times I laid in the grass under the late summer sun and promised our cat Whiskers that I'd always take care of her, no matter how independent she grew or how many times she ran off and got herself knocked up.

I can't walk away.

Everybody hurts.

Let me ask you a couple of hypotheticals:

  1. If you saw a scruffy, three-legged puppy wandering aimlessly through the crosswalk, would you drop your ice cream cone, run to it, arms wailing in the air, screaming, "Mama, I'll save you!!"
  2. If you walked into a guitar shop and saw a teeny faced mullet in a Black Crowes t-shirt playing "Everybody Hurts" into the empty corner, would you walk over quietly, so as not to spook, and say, "Oh honey. Can you not do that?"
If you hypothetically answered yes to either of these, then you know what I'm talking about. It's our lot.

Before Glamour Shots:

After Glamour Shots:

Who's hurting now?

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