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.