Sign O' The Times

Remember a time when your milk was delivered by a friendly milkman every morning, the butcher knew exactly how you liked your steak trimmed, and the bag boy at your local grocery store offered to bring your purchases to your car?

No?

Me neither.

Because the New York I grew up in is the kind of place where you can toss your own salad (he he he)



right across the street from the place that will help you kill your evil liver for only $3.00 a pop (boo-YAH!).




Yes, I know, I'm soooooooo immature. Like I care...

*smooches...wondering what took me so long to post these pics*
----------
I pass by those signs everyday, and everyday without fail I chuckle like a little girl at the hidden meaning of one and candidness of the other. Ah, New York... how much do I love thee...

PS- make sure you tune in tomorrow... you don't want to miss the giveaways... oh yeah, I said giveaways...