This item at a Roanoke pastry shop reads “I survived a nail trim.”
There’s a lesson here for writers, though – if you’re unsure of your font or word spacing, ass a friend.
Tag Archives: Roanoke
Some cool artwork inside Benny Marconi’s.
Campbell Avenue, Roanoke, Virginia.
Move over, pineapple pizza. It’s time for OCTOPUS PIZZA.
I am a man who is loathe to tamper with a classic. And every slice of pizza from Benny Marconi’s in Roanoke, Virginia is a damned artwork.
Still … they did not offer octopus as a topping. (I searched their website pretty thoroughly.) And then I realized that I had NEVER seen the most sublime of foods offered as a pizza topping.
Innovation built this country, and I have a flair for the culinary. So I went home and concocted the brilliance you see below.
Update — Damn. I just realized I wrote this whole post ignoring the potential for an “octupie” pun.
Sign outside downtown Roanoke restaurant: “NEAT DRESS REQUIRED.”
I don’t own ANY dresses.
Seriously, though — I actually stood there for a second pondering what sort of sort of slovenly dresses women had worn in order to prompt management to make the rule. (Was it a wild Saturday night?) Because I am slow on the uptake.
Shine On, You Crazy Mountain.
One of those moments when clouds cast shadows over the valley while the mountain remains sunlit. It looks so surreal when that happens. (This picture doesn’t really do it justice.)
Roanoke, Virginia.
The Hancock Building on 1st Street in Roanoke has what looks like an art deco facade.
I guess I never noticed how cool it looked until I stopped and really looked at it.
The scent of these alone evokes memories.
When I was a kid, strawberries used to grow wild in the fields outside my neighborhood. They were always really small, but still tasty.
HERO POET SAVES CITY.
A truly bizarre thing happened to me this afternoon. I was walking through a parking lot and smelled smoke — then discovered it emanating up from the the dried mulch in one of those divider islands that separate the sections of the parking lot.
I promptly stomped on it — but it wasn’t enough. The first tiny triangle of flame flickered into life at my feet.
I nearly panicked, then successfully stomped out the nascent fire — and then I tore into the mulch bed looking for any more signs of it. Then I just hovered and stomped for a while just to make sure. I must have looked like a madman to other people in the parking lot. (And there were several.) Or maybe like someone playacting Godzilla.
Life is weird. The fire’s genesis is a mystery. (I was expecting to find a cigarette butt, but there were none to be found.) Maybe it was ashes from a cigarette smoked by someone who’d already departed the lot?
The Cybertruck.
This is the first time I’ve seen one in the wild.
If you’re my kind of weird, then you immediately thought of the Landmaster vehicle from 1977’s “Damnation Alley.”
Breakfast at The Texas Tavern.
Super-fast, super-cheap, super-good. I even chatted with the cook about comic books.
I do love this little Southern city.
Update — tried to befriend a feisty sparrow on the way home today. But they’re fickle about who they mix with.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 