Elbird, Maryland's Own
To all my classy Northern Virginia friends who still recoil in horror when they hear I'm living in Maryland -- in MoCo, no less! -- let me assure you, the Old Line State has its share of creature comforts. Take, for instance, the cozy trailer from which I write.
I am spending this sunny Saturday morning submitting my vehicle to the state safety inspection. After handing my keys over to the inspector, I was escorted to the "waiting room." "Waiting room" is a rather broad term, I suppose. In this context it refers to a tiny trailer permeated by a questionable odor, filled with a sectional couch from 1993, 2-year old magazines, a record player and tape deck (all in one!), and a dusty computer and TV.
Oh, but the highlight is the bin of toys to entertain the kiddies while you wait! It's faithfully guarded by a miracle of modern toy medicine: Elmo's face and hands transplanted onto Big Bird's body! Elbird is very disturbing, to be honest, but I commend the creativity at work here:
I am spending this sunny Saturday morning submitting my vehicle to the state safety inspection. After handing my keys over to the inspector, I was escorted to the "waiting room." "Waiting room" is a rather broad term, I suppose. In this context it refers to a tiny trailer permeated by a questionable odor, filled with a sectional couch from 1993, 2-year old magazines, a record player and tape deck (all in one!), and a dusty computer and TV.
Oh, but the highlight is the bin of toys to entertain the kiddies while you wait! It's faithfully guarded by a miracle of modern toy medicine: Elmo's face and hands transplanted onto Big Bird's body! Elbird is very disturbing, to be honest, but I commend the creativity at work here:
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