Boobie Tassels For Buddha

Today, at least in the utterly vanquished acropolis in which I live, is Make A Difference Day.

This means that the local newspaper lines the city streets with brightly shirted, and likely unemployed, "volunteers" to sell their rag for an extra 50 cents. That extra 50 cents goes toward making a difference in the lives of local children. I can only assume that means taking them from their birth parents and exporting them to a third world country....or Cleveland...so they have a better chance at a prosperous existence.

Now I'm sure some of you are saying, "Oh, it can't be that bad!” You people can just zip it. I would like you to watch the series Life After Man. It's on one of those educational stations that you regularly avoid watching. Look very closely at how the cities appear about 10 years after man has ceased to exist and no longer takes care of his creations. That is where I live.

Back on topic.

Now I'm usually very deft at avoiding the guerilla tactics employed by these paper hawking Sandinistas. It's not that I don't want to make a difference in the lives of children...it's the fact that I wouldn't pick up a copy of this newspaper if it were free. Homeless people walk to trash bins in other cities because it isn't even fit for a park bench blanket. Children refuse to wear hats made out of it for fear of being mocked for not only wearing a newspaper hat, but an awful one at that. Silly Putty refuses to transfer the print because it's simply too embarrassing. It's just bad is what I'm trying to say.

So I'm able to avoid them at the end of my street by pretending the stop sign is actually a yield sign and squealing my tires around the corner. I hit the next two green lights like clockwork and resist the urge to cackle maniacally with my window rolled down. Then I turn on to Pine Avenue and it's time to take things seriously. I have to run the single lane, slow traffic, high pedestrian gauntlet on the only street left in the city with more businesses than boarded up windows.

I'm far too clever for them though. The real trick is to never make eye contact and never ever pull all the way up to a red light. Hang back until it changes and then gun it...laughter and rude gestures as you go by entirely optional. Mission accomplished as I pull into Tim Horton's for my coffee, as at this point I'm home free and have a clear shot to work.

You, dear reader, would have had quite a laugh as the smug look fell off my face when I was assaulted by the sight of brightly colored shirts waiting at the entrance to the drive thru.

*shakes fist at the heavens*

Oh you clever bastards. Not only did they find the highest traffic area in the entire city, a Tim Horton's drive thru, they staffed it with the two cutest (and probably only financially compensated) girls they could find. One blonde and one brunette in shirts quite obviously a few sizes too small. These tabloid tarts had already sold about three stacks of newspapers. No clearer case of entrapment have I ever witnessed. I was simply done for.

So there is blight upon my desk at work today in the form of an awful newspaper. And there are two cute girls with free cups of coffee somewhere in the city, probably receiving an award for breaking a sales record.

Kudos ladies...kudos.