browse by city
Brooklyn, NY (787)
New York, NY (779)
Toronto, ON (745)
Montreal, QC (397)
London, UK (297)
complete city list
popular articles
Da Champ
from: Peter
Brooklyn Hospital Incinerator
from: Peter
Pretty Parking
from: joey
Why They've Got Us All Wrong
from: Repine Online
what's hot this month?
recent articles
Why They've Got Us All Wrong
from: Repine Online
Brooklyn Hospital Incinerator
from: Peter
Pretty Parking
from: joey
Da Champ
from: Peter
Brooklyn Navy Yard Cogeneration Facility
from: Peter
Moscow City
from: Makzer
Lofts for Rent
from: Peter
Escape From New York
from: Peter
Emptiness
from: joey
Painting on Knickerbocker
from: Peter
read all today's articles
browse by author
Peter (806)
joey (281)
EvilGentleman (269)
hool (247)
jack (235)
complete author list
hot topics
graffiti
Justo Gallego
JA One
sane smith
graf trux
wheat paste
nyc
sixy
Top 10 largest cities in canada
harlem
banksy
new york
brooklyn
nyc graffiti
dr. sex
Car Poodle
Toronto, ON - Biff - Thursday, February 2nd, 2006 : goo
[previous] :: [next]
Feb. 1, 2006
on Church Street.
This article has been viewed 3630 times in the last 3 years
Biff: Obviously useful for the carpool lane.
Jason: Of course this had to be in the Gay Village. LOL
Catherine Penfold-Waxman: At least he's not driving.
James: Is that a red kimona or a skijacket?
jack: she looks like a date i had in 1965.
Hazel: Fasten your seat belt please
the bird frm cabg twn: 6th Feb 2006 - 02:44 GMT
thats no poodle, thats my wife. Jason,whats the gay village got to do with the price of dr.ballards on seventh avenue...and another thing wendell or weeble just wondering what your running under the hood....nice shot Wedell.
Wendell: 8th Feb 2006 - 00:56 GMT
Your story has touched my heart. That dog should be in the back seat, just like
Britney's 2 month old baby
Stasha: Where are the sun glasses?
anon (cache-3.super.net.pk): 11th Feb 2006 - 20:49 GMT
A guy phones up his Boss, but gets the bosses' wife instead:
"I'm afraid he died last week." she explains.
The next day the man calls again and asks for the boss.
"I told you" the wife replies, "he died last week."
The next day he calls again and once more asks to speak to his
boss. By this time the wife is getting upset and shouts:
"I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU TWICE, MY HUSBAND, YOUR BOSS, DIED LAST WEEK! WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING?"
"Coz . . ." he replied laughing, "I just love hearing it. . . ."
Spike: Dogs die in cold cars,,,
Mielikca: Always open the window. Even a little bit.
Elicar: 24th Feb 2006 - 02:25 GMT
They are all over the place. This one was snapped at Sheppard and Leslie, Toronto.
Comment on this article..
[previous] :: [next]
search citynoise.org
recent discussions
Motorist Vs Courier
from: hool
Them Boys
from: fuzzytank
Washburn Tunnel
from: ian
Feeling Sixy?
from: Peter
Ben's Deli
from: EvilGentleman
A Walk Through Brick City
from: Peter
Scrap Yard nyc GRAFFITI STORE
from: art views
Brooklyn Hospital Incinerator
from: Peter
Wheatpasting: How to
from: An@Rch15T
Hydrant to Hydrant
from: POWcityblog
from the archives
Apartment to Let
i have always loved these old buildings near the tunnel. always wanted to get an apartment there because my friend tom and i would cruise uptown and go to the inner circle, a little bar in the 60's streets...
recently viewed
Car Poodle
from: Biff
Why They've Got Us All Wrong
from: Repine Online
Brooklyn Tree Decoration
from: Peter
Typical Norwegian Food
from: Rune-Willem
My House in Bushwick
from: matthew
Side-by-Side Tandem Bicycle:
from: Peter
Thinking Time
from: Kat
Steam Pipe, 5th Ave
from: Dave
Crip/Blood Graffiti: Washington Heights
from: anon
On the Train
from: Zak
concept and content © citynoise.org 2002 - 2008 : designed and maintained by
Jamie Thompson and
peter (rhodamine.org)
caveat: entries and comments on citynoise.org represent
the views of their respective authors; this is an open forum, open to
all relevant ideas,
and as such, sees minimal editorial interference. as such, all content
on this site remains property of its creator/author, and is therefore
protected by all applicable copyright laws.
