No Dogs Were Harmed...

There's a funny thing about Brian's new dog: she reminds me of a few dogs I have seen in the context of my work over the last couple of years.

There was this HIV campaign for gay men conducted by COCQ-Sida:

There were other objects in the series, too, including sunglasses and, for the MSMs who are not necessarily gay, a lovely suburban home with a two-car garage.

This little chihuahua (pronounced CHI-HOO-A-HOO-A) had the unfortunate side effect of reminding some of us of a rather unfortunate LGV campaign run by our Direction de la Santé publique a couple of years back. Oh, it starts out cute enough, and was supposed to make us all think of any number of Fido commercials:

Lower down on the poster, however, things take a dreadful turn, as the graphic artist tries to illustrate the effects of LGV (Lymphogranuloma venerum) and winds up with something that looks a little like the unfortunate canine strayed too close to a rather near-sighted veteran in early November (that's the polite version):

Well, today really took the cake. There I was, innocently attending the 15ième Symposium sur les aspects cliniques de l'infection au VIH, more precisely the presentation on travelling with HIV, vaccinations and diseases one really doesn't want to encounter, when up on the screen flashed this image to draw our attention to rabies:

We almost fell off our chairs laughing, and I just knew that I would be able to find the image on the net.

So Brian, a word of advice: Don't let Hildy go outside to play!

Damned. Lucky.

I was on a crazy consumer high, trying to make sure that I got all of my shopping out of the way before tomorrow, which is Buy Nothing Day. (Yes, I know that Canada and Québec are to be found in North America, but there's that crazy Canadian thing about differentiating ourselves from our closest neighbours, so I'm pretty sure it's scheduled for tomorrow here.)

My plans were set. Go spend that gift card I received and a little more of my own money on something else, go to the bank machine to deposit and pay bills, then take out some cash for the rest of my shopping plans tonight. I dutifully left the bank machine quickly, as there was someone waiting, went to load my transit card with my December fare, and moved on for more.

The next plan I had to revise, as I was going to go spend another gift certificate I received as a lovely parting gift from my former job, but I realized part way there that the gift certificate was still in my apartment. Drat! Would I have to spend that tomorrow? Maybe Sunday...

Still more shopping. Yogurt and a couple of impulse items at the fruit store. I got to the cash and — surprise! Something was missing:

Yes, as I repeated in my head "Stupid, stupid, stupid...", I realised that I had beaten such a hasty retreat from the bank machine that I had left my card inside for the person who was in line behind me.

I rushed back with as much poise and dignity as I could muster. I broke out the other bank card I have in my wallet to open the door (the magnetic stripe opens the door) and went inside with great trepidation. Would I have to call the bank to explain my stupidity and then wait who knows how long for a new card? Would I discover that the person behind me had conducted a few transactions?

There, atop the machine, was a card. Grab. Insert. Enter PIN. Yes, it was mine. Next test: ask for printout of recent transactions. Only the ones I had done. My trust in my fellow humans has once again been confirmed to a degree that only Pollyanna might expect.

Damned. Lucky.

Aux urnes!

Well, I guess it's our turn now, set for 8 December. I don't expect we will have any choices that seem as inspiring as what happened last night in the U.S., but I'd venture to say that all of our choices will be to the left of all of the choices Americans had last night.

Hallowe'en

Cette année, on se déguise en clown...

...et on prend l'autobus.

And now it is also out in English...

(Apparently the English version doesn't ride the bus yet.)