10 | November | 2010 | delicious juice dot com

Tell me that the tiny white flaky things wafting down from the sky on my freezing cold ride home were, in actuality, one or more of the following:

Volcanic ash from an eruption I somehow missed while forearm deep in CRM
God’s dandruff
The aftermath of a catastrophic Office Depot explosion in which no people were hurt but thousands of innocent loose-leaf pages perished in the resulting inferno (then kicked up by a sudden windstorm and spread throughout the night sky)
Cigarette ash from the butts of every person in every car in front of me (which actually happened yesterday; I was never so happy to have your disgusting, repulsive ash in my face)
This guy, sloppily doing blow:

.. tell me ANYTHING. Just .. not that. Please, not that.

I think I may have just ridden my last pantless* ride of the year.

(*while I technically rode pantless due to the dress I wore today, I am far more protected than if I were wearing actual pants thanks to knee-high boots with thick soles and the sexy shin guard/knee pad combo I wear over them)

Tomorrow will be my very first Remembrance Day with someone to remember. Other than going out and getting myself a raging case of Super Gonorrhea, I don’t quite know what else I can do – I think about the grandfather I never knew on a regular basis, and I respect his sacrifice (and appreciate the fact that he helped make my dad before the war and before dallying with the most diseased French prostitutes 1916 had ever seen so I could be here 94 years later to poke fun at him). I have to work tomorrow so I can’t go to any ceremonies .. but I don’t know that I would go even if I could. I’m not a ceremony person – I pay my respects in my own way, and it generally doesn’t involve Amazing Grace played on bagpipes.

Did You Know: I memorized “In Flanders Fields” in grade 8 for fun (I was a weird kid), and I still remember it to this day. I recite it when I can’t fall asleep – and if it doesn’t work, I move on to Shakespeare. If THAT doesn’t work .. well, there’s masturbation involved. Warm milk is for pussies.

In honour of my grandfather’s Super Gonorrhea, I give you some wartime STD Awareness Posters. I’m thinking he could have really used these in France, but Wangzillas aren’t known for our common sense – also, these are from WWII. Perhaps VD wasn’t as big an issue in WWI, or something.