Stab stab stab!
Sean watches the blank television, imagining it filled with dancing ladies.
Ryan takes a picture of himself while out for a walk. The timestamp later helped absolve him of a crime committed by Gary Busey nearby.
Probably not the safest method of suspension for a mad scientist, but it gets the job done.
Not quite recycling, but you're getting there.
This smiley face does not inspire happiness.
Because Melissa doesn't have voicemail.
Somehow underwear in an underpass seems appropriate. Filthy, but appropriate.
I call this one: Don't Fuck with Santa.
I venture onto the "wrong side" of the tracks, hoping that the killer mountain goats don't descend from Mt.Hood before I can get back across.
Drugs sold here. Or is it something about a serial killer? Or someone making a political statement about adidas? I can never keep track.
