i did NOT jizz in my pants

I decided to go for a jog for the first time in a couple of days weeks months OK goddammit, years on Friday, which turned out to be simultaneously one of the most refreshing and disgusting experiences I've had in quite a while. It was refreshing, of course, because it's nice to be able to work off a few bean calories to make room for more moonshine; but disgusting, I say, because when my jog took me down to Meridian Hill Park between Columbia Heights and U Street, I had to alter my straight lines of movement into a cha-cha-like jump when I confronted not one, not two, but COUNTLESS used condoms.

Now many of you may remember one of my very early complaints about DC, which was about the plethora of Band-Aids on the sidewalks around town. That was gross, of course, but it was understandable. People get blisters. People then cover those blisters with Band-Aids. Said Band-Aids cannot withstand the conditions of sweaty feet. Ergo, Band-Aids find their ways onto a sidewalk more often than probably necessary, especially since most of the shoes I see people wearing around here don't seem to warrant sacrificing comfort for aesthetics. SHAMBLES!

But let's not get sidetracked by inappropriate city footwear. Let's return to people apparently having lots of dirty sex in a public park. (Giggity giggity!)

I get it (sorta). I mean, times are tough. Maybe your bank foreclosed on your house. Maybe you couldn't make that car payment. Maybe you're not Eliot Spitzer and couldn't afford to take your hooker to a nice hotel. Maybe you couldn't even afford a room at the HoJo. Like I said, I get it.

But only sorta. See, all of these used prophylactics were found in open spaces, often smack in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing me to do a jig around the jizz. Now, if it was me gettin' busy in the park, I'd choose a more private locale. Maybe a grassy knoll behind a bush, or at least a non-paved path somewhere in the depths of the park, opposed to the concrete and tar sidewalk on the perimeter. That just can't be pleasant. (Ouch.)

But despite my confusion and disgust, I am somewhat pleased because at least these freaks in the park are being safe. It's called the bright side, e-friends, and I'm trying desperately to look at it right now to suppress my urge to vomit. Although, if I just vomited after imbibing my delicious bean recipes, perhaps I wouldn't have to go jogging in the first place, let alone jogging through random dudes' spunk. What a novel idea!

But joking about serious eating disorders aside, I'm most upset about this sticky situation (har-har!) because I hate litter. In a country full of public garbage cans, littering is highly unnecessary. And clearly, I'm not the first one to say this. Our government has said this for quite sometime! And so dramatically at that!

I, too, just shed a single tear. Now, please, do DC a favor and clean up after your splooge. Thanks.