Our Eyes...They Burn...

We got home late last night around twelve, parked the car in the garage, and set off towards home. As we walked down the alleyway on which our garage is, we passed an awning in front of those new fangled condos only to see a homeless dude, down on his knees, just finishing up the depantsing of his female cohort. Let's just say, umm, that he was in a prone position.

When they saw us, the guy just turned around with not even a look of surprise in his face and stared back. Like a raccoon. No "oops, we just got busted" face or a "maybe we shouldn't be doing this?" face nor even a "yeah, this is totally skeezy" face-- he just stared right back at us as if nothing was wrong.

Now granted, the people involved weren't some of the pock-marked, toothless, drugged out denizens who frequent the 16th street corridor (Whorus Crackii) and were a little less butt-ugly, but still. That image, of the guy staring back at me while his girlfriend stood there in pantless obliviousness, is now utterly and completely scarred in our brain.

Even worse, they have pretty much made that alleyway as their own little private outdoor home. Which means we now see them everytime we go to and from our garage. And you know how when you see something you don't want to see and everytime you see one of the people involved, you can't but not help but think about thing? That's us. Everytime we see them now.

Maybe it's time we go to another garage.