Signing or something like it

Totally unrelated to this post: I started this week off with a drunk/crazy/drugged woman ramming into me at full-speed in the middle of a crosswalk. Without skipping a beat she looked back at me and slurred, “LOSER,” in a thick Russian accent. I love you too, New York.

Do you guys know about ‘signing?’ Is that only a redneck thing, or is that like a suburbs-in-general thing? Annnyway, for those of you who don’t know – ‘signing’ is the act of stealing a street sign that meets one of the following criteria:

  • The street name is your first or last name
  • The sign is for one of the city’s iconic streets (I can’t tell you how many people have Peachtree Street signs down south)
  • The street name is funny. One time, in college, we walked like a mile and half through Boston at 2 AM because we wanted to steal the Public Alley 420 street sign only to discover someone else had already stolen it.
  • You’re drunk. This also applies to the story above about Public Alley 420. The best part of that night was when halfway through our trek, one of the key instigators of the mission stopped walking and said, “You guys… Where are we? What are we doing?”

Once secured, the sign is then displayed in one of the following locations:

  • Garage
  • College dorm room/ Frat house
  • Pool or game room in a half-finished basement (usually alongside other signs that have been stolen for the above reasons or stop signs)
  • Broom closet (usually for the signs that were stolen under the influence)

While I’ve never successfully stolen a sign, I have a great appreciation for signing and I think I’ve adopted its spirit… At least when I’m drunk. I loooove collecting random shit that I find when I’m out. I’ll wake up next to a box of steeply discounted Jelly Belly-flavored candy canes that I purchased at a Duane Reade at 3 AM, a pamphlet about the Mormon apocalypse (is that a thing or did I just make that up? If I made it up, I think we narrowly escaped it by electing Obama), or, most recently an AWESOME singing Santa hat I found abandoned on a bar during Santacon. I love that hat.

Anyway, my boyfriend’s building totally facilitates my drunk-collecting habit, because there’s a ledge by the mailboxes where people drop off everything from enough Restoration Hardware catalogs to build a fort to a all of the random junk that you’d never, ever want. This was all a roundabout way to show you guys this picture of my spoils from a recent drunken outing:

“Tiffany, come on. Let’s go.” “BUT WHY ARE THERE CASSETTE TAPES HERE AND WHAT IS THIS WOOD?!”

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