Yes, more signs. During a recent trip to Toronto, I found myself in the mood for a greasy breakfast. Mmm, eggs and starchy tubers. Inky coffee and oinky ham. Walking along Bloor street, I came across a restaurant offering a few options for such fare and chuckled that the sign maker hired to produce storefront menus had obviously not spell-checked. What are the odds "Refills" would have been spelled a different way on each sign? Sure enough, Reffils", "Refils" and - finally - "Refills". One for three: not a good success rate. As a service provider, they should be toast. Even if you're in a jam.
And then there was this mailbox. I'm sure it's innocuous enough in reality, but stumbling along half-awake in the morning, it sort of catches your eye. Of course, the vampy woman in fishnets lingering outside flicking her ashen looks our way like cigarette entrails didn't help matters, either.
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