Whoa, it’s like the the Eyedropper’s house, except that instead of coming from above, our “bad neighbor” signs point from the houses to the left and right, as well as from across the street.

This is possibly the most effective way to destroy a business. The second, which this business also claims, is German food. I give this place two months to live.

More after the JUMP!

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Sorry about the lack of Eyedropper on Memorial Day. We spent the revered holiday soberly contemplating the nature of memoriam—fortunately, that’s over and we’re back to drunkenly looking for visual representations of why Santa Fe is a ridiculous place to live.

In the vein of the last Eyedropper, which featured lowriders turning me on, we have good old-fashioned American trucks…turning me on. Neat.

We also have the misogyny couch that, no, I will not take.

Thanks to Matt Lynch and Ben Niedelman for the wonderful submissions.

Send your AWESOME submissions to culture [at] sfreporter.com, subject “eyedropper.”

[Editor's note: This week's Eyedropper will be interrupted for a brief letter to God.]

Dear God, I have been very blessed this week and have many things for which to be thankful.

I’m thankful for Aryana Potter and that she was intrepid enough to dare take this photo at the lowrider car show this month at the Santa Fe Lowe’s.

I’m thankful that when Nuevo Mexico caught Potter taking her photo, Nuevo Mexico left Potter’s camera and, more importantly, this image intact.

I’m thankful for lowriders, the people who ride around in them and the people who like to look at lowriders and the people who ride around in them.

I’m thankful for Spanish translations of anything.

I’m thankful for tattoos, designer purses and cell phones with cameras.

I’m thankful for short shorts, especially blue ones.

I’m thankful that when I wanted to get “Thug Life” written in the very same spot, my mom hit me.

Yours Truly,

Eyedropper

Show us what has left the back of your eyelids burning. Send pictures of visual trespass and peculiarities to culture [at] sfreporter.com, subject “eyedropper.”

The Eyedropper loves lewd advertising and would probably love Dish n’ Spoon because she hears it has a delicious pay-what-you-wish lunch on Mondays—but this image is not what should have been this week’s Eyedropper. That’s where you come in, Dear Reader.

The Eyedropper was on her way to see Killah Priest and Eternal of the Wu Tang Clan (extended family? distant cousins?) at Corazón because that’s a pretty badass last-minute show (and on a Sunday!). She was walking through a dark corner of South Capitol (or SoCa, as douchebags might call it) when she heard someone walking up too close behind her. She veered off the sidewalk to get an eyeful of a man wearing a fleece on top, and nothing but sheer ladies leopard-print underwear with copious holes and a small black sock (to bulwark one of the holes) on bottom.

Naturally, the Eyedropper laughed at him.

Lady Undies: “Know of any good parties going on tonight?”

Eyedropper: “No. Definitely not.”

He walked on ahead, then stopped, turned to the Eyedropper and asked where he’d find Canyon Road. The Eyedropper gave him directions gladly (take that, Canyon Road).

This is all a long-winded way of asking: Anyone get a picture of Lady Undies?

The Eyedropper was too unsure of how crazy Lady Undies was to get a picture of him. It was also really dark and all the Eyedropper had was her camera phone and a propensity for punching dudes.

If you saw him, send pictures of Lady Undies to culture [at] sfreporter.com, subject “eyedropper.”

Santa Fe is known for many things: adobe, French-Riviera-like lighting, a violent history of  colonialism and, most importantly, an increasing movement toward local food. What better indication that we’re getting food close to its source than the carcass of a newly skinned animal (your guess as to what the hell that is) hanging out on the back of a truck, midday on St. Francis Drive. This thing surely isn’t going to IHOP,  but maybe the Department of Health should check it out…

Thanks to Lacie Mackey for the image and for having the wherewithal to not end up with this thing on her windshield.

Show us what has left the back of your eyelids burning. Send pictures of visual trespass and peculiarities to copyeditor [at] sfreporter.com, subject “eyedropper.”