I realize that is possible that some of you may have a glamorized view of what its like to write a blog such as this one. You might think that I have fame beyond my wildest dreams, or that women throw themselves at me. Alas, neither is true. In fact, I am a man of relatively humble means, and I have never actually known the touch of a woman. I think 2011 is my year, though, to find some nice girl to come watch me lose at the track, not to mention road races.
Toward that end, I’ve been carefully studying episodes of the Jersey Shore for tips on how to behave around the ladies, and I think I’ve got my game pretty much ready to go. Or at least I thought I did, until I saw the following public service advertisement featuring The Situation (my hero) and Bristol Palin (my other hero).
All thoughts of someday having a fully realized relationship with a woman outside the stultifying bounds of wedlock fled from my mind in the face of this propaganda juggernaut. What’s more, I found myself unable to imagine two people better suited to deliver the message of abstinence and/or safe sex than “Sitch” and “B. Palin”, as they refer to one another in the ad — an exchange of monikers that is not in any way awkward or contrived.
Mind made up and new worldview installed with the bold determination of an Aerospoke front wheel installed in a track frame, I went about my daily business. I felt uncharacteristically calm as I sat sifting through the flotsam and jetsam of the internet, monocle firmly clenched in my right eyehole, trying to find items to bring to my two esteemed readers’ attentions. That’s when the following video smacked deliciously into my face like a fine sugar pie on a solid marble plate.
Imagine my state of mind as this group of Canadian ladies — or “lanadians” as they are known in Vancouver — came frolicking across my screen, riding their bikes directly through my monocle and into my cold, abstinent heart! It was like being double-bounced on a trampoline and soaring high into the air only land on and then subsequently be launched from a trebuchet.
These cavorting sirens are known as the B:C:Clettes, a play on the French word bicyclette, which means “gyrating hipster”, and I am, without a doubt, in love with each and every one of them. I can hardly wait for the weekend, when I will go out into my beloved city of Atlanta and mingle its comely singles much as The Situation himself would do if he lived here.
Sorry, Bristol Palin, I will abstain no more! Well, you know, assuming I can talk someone into not-abstaining with me, that is.