Tuesday, July 1, 2008

LIFE: KaBloomers, Des-truc-tion!!

I am filing this under "Life", because death is a part of life, and this story deals with death. The death of a building. I have heard that death is really just a transition from one state to another. I think this is especially true for buildings, where death is merely a transition from being a Building to being a Pile.

One morning, I woke up, stretched, and looked out my bedroom window to find that sometime between Thursday morning and Friday morning the building behind my condo had undergone the transformation from fully-functioning building to fully-functioning pile. Check it out:



I stared dreamily at the pile for a bit before deciding that I needed to go investigate closer, to check out if there was anything awesome to score from this wreckage. I went up to the next street up to check out the pile from it's natural vantage point:

King of the Hill!

Hey! The fridge is totally winning the King of the Hill challenge! You would think that the pile's construction would be analogous with the original building's construction; you know, roof material on top, and so forth. So how did the fridge get up there? Did I just never notice that there was a refrigerator on the roof?

Also, it brings up another interesting point: Why was the refrigerator still in the building when it was demolished? Wouldn't you have thought to remove all of the non-attached stuff before you started recklessly bulldozing everything? This is better illustrated by this:


Dude! That's someone's TV! This makes me wonder if someone went out to grab some tacos or something, and came back to find their home totally converted to pile. Crap! How am I going to catch CSI:Miami now?!

Another great feature of this pile is the requisite pile of beer bottles:

Party time!

If you look closely, you will find that not all of the empty bottles belong to the associated half-rack box! This means that multiple packages of Henry's were consumed to celebrate some element of this pile, and we are only seeing a tiny projection of this consumption onto our visible world.

What's great about drinkin' by this particular pile is that the Boxcar Alehouse is approximately twenty feet away. But no! I eschew the social acceptability of enjoying ice-cold brews served by an attractive waitstaff in the company of interesting people for sitting in the shadows of the messy remains of a crappy apartment building and pounding bottle after bottle of cheap local beer!

Alas that this aloofness is feigned, for I DO love me a twelver of Henry's Dark.

So at this point in my exploration I begin to circumnavigate the perimeter of the destruction, thinking that this is a pretty boring pile, TV aside, but lo! What is there to greet me on the north side but more evidence that this demolition was indeed in haste:

Oh dear

NOOOO! You left your dildo in the building! Now it is all covered in dirt and broken 2x4's! NOOOO!

You might be thinking that perhaps this device was planted on the scene after the actual demolition as a joke or something, but I poked it with a stick and confirmed that it is indeed half-buried in the rubble. Why would someone intentionally go through the trouble of submerging half of a dildo in the remains of a crappy apartment building?

I guess this is another one of life's mysteries.

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