Gasworks Park, Seattle, near my good ol’ alma mater. One of the places where I spent quality liplock time with Fiance #1, McMoony, the dumb glue-faced boy I thought I loved.
One night, I tiptoed back into my dorm after an entirely adequate pawing in the back seat of his vintage Mustang parked under the lights at Gasworks. Stopping off in the bathroom, I glimpsed myself in the mirror and gasped: There was literally a ring, a red swollen ring, circling ’round my stupid little lips, a lingering love contusion from McMoony, I guess, that made me look like I’d spent the whole night sucking a Mason jar to my face. He was not long on technique or artistry, that McMoony, but his car was really cool.
Which has nothing to do with this picture for you, I suppose. But it did make me think of that and what a lucky girl I am now.
Look at the whole War of the Worlds menace of this photo. I love it.
Ah, the thrill of the urgent makeout session in the face of crushing alien invasion.
Okay THAT is cool. Very Terry Gilliam.
That is a totally brilliant photo. It looks alive.
Not as frightening as a giant puppet barreling down the boulevard at you … but pretty close!
That hill looks like the hill in the Windows background! Kewl.
Terry Gilliam is a good one. I was going to say that it looks like the kind of landscape you’d encounter in a Final Fantasy game.
“Invasion of the Glue-Faced Lip Snatchers”
They’re everywhere! You may be next!
All it needs is a giant mason jar on top of it.