Effective Real Estate Marketing.

You know me.  I’m always ready to lend a helping hand.  That’s why I would like to take this opportunity to tell you how to effectively market your real estate listing. 

What better way to teach you than by illustrating with pictures?  (Okay, there’s a lot of better ways, but you say to-may-toe, I say hush.)

Exhibit A comes from the lovely Lake of the Ozarks area.  Thank you to alert reader My Dad for sending the picture in.

There’s no need to hire a realtor with his thousand dollar words like “picturesque,” “financially attainable,” or “charming” when “steep and cheap” says it all!

Exhibit B comes from the building across from my office.  That looks normal enough.  But wait!  What is that?!  Why, I declare, I believe it’s another super-effective marketing strategy staring me in the face!

I know you can’t read that sign, so I was nice enough to get a close up for you.

I have to admit, the sign was much more inspirational before I got my new contacts and I thought “TRAINS” would be a good potential use for the building.  Traing just doesn’t seem nearly as exciting. 

And, THAT, is how to successfully advertise your real estate.

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File Under: You Might Be A Redneck.

You might be a redneck if you are the inspiration for this sign. 

 

This picture has not been altered.  It is an actual sign at the entrance to the cemetery where my brother in law is buried.

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Best Name for a Storage Facility. Ever.

My alert friend Deanna (you’ll remember her from the now infamous “don’t eat tv antennas while pregnant” warning labels) sent me this picture.  It’s a storage facility that she and her family saw on a recent trip to Arkansas.

I think it is the best name for a storage facility ever!  And I was the one who wanted to open a “Save a Lot of Crap Storage”.

It’s the ultimate in truth-in-advertising.  And it kind of makes me miss Arkansas.  It’s one of my favorite places to vacation.  The landscape is gorgeous, the people are friendly, there’s good fishing, and it’s not overly-crowded.

Thanks for the picture, Deanna!

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Man, I hope the guy just moved.

My mom and I went to a couple thrift stores yesterday.  We found a lot of good stuff.  Including a couple funny signs!

This is a nearby town.  I guess with this slow economy, we are all making cutbacks.  Strasburg apparently decided to save money by not investing in a whole strip of green tape as in previous years.

I hope the guy just moved.  But, somehow, I’m envisioning a funeral with everyone in town attending.  Except the guy in charge of changing the sign.

Or maybe the missing Strasburg resident just purchased an “Eternal Investment”.  This is at another nearby town.

Yes, that is a subdivision and not a cemetary.  Totally creepy.  Can’t you picture some slick creepy horror movie character saying, “Come on, move to my subdivision – you won’t regret it.  We have people who invest here eternally.  Bwahahahaha.  Oh yeah, and bring your family.”  [Insert devious hand-rubbing here.]

The neighboring towns are a little morbid, huh?

(And in case there are any of you perverts out there who think you’re going to figure out where I live and … well, just know that I am a MAJOR 2nd amendment proponent.  If you catch my drift.)

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Opus to my alert friend Jackie.

My alert friend Jackie recently took a trip to South Dakota.  Being so alert and in possession of a camera, she got some great sign shots for me.  I don’t know if she took any real shots while she was shooting pictures … dang, that was the start of a great pun, I wish I could think of an ending.  At any rate, Jackie went to South Dakota.

What we have here is a church turned gift shop.  I guess the former pastor of this church didn’t want anyone within a 42 mile radius to have any excuse for sleeping through church.

 

I really wish we had one of these King’s stores in my town.  I hate having to go to two different places every time I need to get meats and pasties.  Really, there’s nothing more annoying than having to get the kid out of the car seat once to buy our meats and again to get pasties.  Plus, it’s kind of embarrassing to have my truck parked in front of the adult store all the time.  If I had a meat and pastie store, then I could just tell everyone I was buying meat.   It wouldn’t be so suspicious that way.

Here is a national historical landmark.  Calamity Jane was the first white woman to see this substation.  WIld Bill Hickock came along a couple weeks later but he took all the credit for discovering the substation.  Men were sucky like that back then.

You know when you’re giving directions to your house and you say, “At the second big curve, you turn off of the paved road…”?  Well, this is the name of the road you turn off of the paved road onto.

Be sure to check back later in the week.  My husband is watching “John Deere Live” on the Rural Channel.  It promises to get exciting.  A guy with cattle in Michigan (who talks funny) just called in asking what kind of tractor he should get.  I hate to leave you with such a cliffhanger, but I haven’t seen the ending yet.  Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated.

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Fun With Signs: How My Mother Made Me Siphon Water From The Pool.

The other day I was watching my kid play in her little wading pool.  Isn’t she cute?  You must say yes or I will have secret Bush Administration Operatives come sabotage your next birthday party.

So, anyway, I was watching her splash around and I had a flashback to one summer when I was 11 or 12.  We had a wading pool on our back deck and I needed to drain it because it was disgusting and I wanted clean water.  No neighbor-kid-pee-filled pools for me.  No sirree.  Well, my mother decided that she would teach us about science (or maybe she was teaching us how to steal gas so we could join some underground criminal ring working for the Bush Administration, who’s to say?).  She showed us that if we put one end of the hose into our pool and the other end into the garden, the water would magically siphon through the hose.  After hours of watching water fantastically not flow uphill, I asked her if we could just drain it the regular way – by standing on one side and letting the water flow.  My mother informed me that, if we hooked up the hose to the faucet, ran it for a minute, then abruptly shut off the valve, the water would flow backwards towards the spicket.  Once again, I watched for hours but all I saw was the water getting deeper in the pool.  I will grant you, though, that I have terrible eye-sight, so that could have had an effect on our little experiment.  When she wasn’t looking, I stepped on the side and then ran in to tell her how awesome the experiment turned out.  I relayed this childhood memory to her the other day and she swears I made it up in my head.  According to her, she does not even know how to siphon fluid.  The good news is that, if I ever get a hired by the Bush Administration to steal gasoline from B. Hussein Obama’s official campaign roller skate, I know how to do it.  All you do is get a hose, plug it in a spicket, let the water run into the gas tank for awhile, then shut off the valve, and presto! you have free gas!  Sadly, I’ll never be able to put this knowledge to good use; I hear the official B. Hussein Obama campaign roller skate runs on reconstituted chicken beaks and bat guano instead of petro products.

Speaking of free gas … okay, not free so much as cheap … alert reader named my friend Jen sent me this sign spotted outside her local burrito joint.

You should always buy burritos from a guy with a sense of humor.  That’s always been my motto: Never buy a bean burrito from a non-funny dude.  Speaking of joints, if I were a lawyer, I think I’d open up an office at this intersection.

Those signs, incidentally, were sent to me by my alert mother, the water siphoner.  Can you imagine if I were a lawyer with an office there?  “Hello.  Thank you for calling Mary, Mary, and Mary attorneys at law, conveniently located at the corner of 52 and FU.  How many I fu- I mean help you?”

Which brings us to the inevitable lawyer joke.  I know, I know, it’s so cliche’ and beneath me; you are sorely disappointed that I would stoop to the level of lawyer jokes.  But I think you’ll forgive me when you find out the lawyer is none other than B. Hussein Obama and the signs were sent to me by alert reader my friend Karena.

 

I don’t know Bud Gregg, but I think I like how he thinks!  I wonder if he’d buy me a bean burrito at a little joint I found at 52 and FU.  I hear they have a pool.

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To Be Funny Like Johnny Virgil.

I wish I were as funny as Johnny Virgil on 15 Minute Lunch (I’m a computer dumbass and can’t figure out how to post a link – so here is the url: http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com).  I wish I was cool enough to come up with a pseudonum like Johnny Virgil.

The things that people google to get to my site are kind of kooky – but nothing like what takes them to 15 Minute Lunch.  There’s no way that “spread eagle” or “dance cover letter to a resume” can even come close to competing with “granny porn without tongs”.  So it turns out that, not only am I not as funny as Johnny, but I don’t get nearly as many head cases googling my blog.  (Doesn’t the phrase “googling my blog” sound like something the old pervert at the bar would say?)

All I can do is find funny signs and post them here in the hopes that you will get a small chuckle. 

Pictures of this flea market in Springfield, Missouri were sent to me by a sharp-eyed reader named My Mom. 

I asked her if she picked anything up for me.  She missed my sick sense of humor, but did give me a “Joys of Jello” cookbook that she found there.  I’m a bit afraid to touch it though.  Do you think rubbing it with Lysol would be enough to prevent the need for antibiotics?

Then we have what appears to be a spurned lover in charge of the signs for the Pleasant Hill Memorial Building.  I would have given a million dollars to be there when the preacher asked if anyone had any objections. 

Incidentally, the back side of the sign said, “Brad and Tiffany Early Reception”, but that side is hard to see from the street.

This particular school parking lot is satellite parking for a local Baptist Church and their preacher apparently disregards the noon deadline for ending a Sunday service so I had to take the picture sideways.

Do you know what is most disheartening about a school misspelling words on the official school sign?  I went to this school.  For 2 years.  Granted, back then it was called Pleasant Lea Junior High and I don’t choose to remember much about those years.  But I went there, by gosh.  Not only that, but I think I placed in the school spelling bee.

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