On the back of a cartoon coaster

So. On Wednesday I went to Canada for the first time ever. It involved a lot of driving. Luckily I had a navigator.
Yes, this trip involved so much driving, in fact, that I showed up on Allison’s doorstep with a sunburned left arm. Um, if you’re not following me, I always drive with my left arm hanging out the window if it’s not freezing or pouring, and I was wearing a t-shirt, so… Eleven hours of one arm being exposed to the sun means hideous, lopsided sunburn.

Then I proceeded to spill burrito juice all over my t-shirt once we’d procured me some nourishment after my fatiguing drive.

Fortunately, things only got better from there. Having one brown arm and one white arm is still weird, though.

Thursday started out AWESOME, as immediately upon walking into a sushi place, I saw motherfucking Adamo Ruggiero, right there, waiting for his take-out order. Tiny gay Marco from Degrassi, people, standing right in front of my face. And then apparently, Lauren Collins walked in to meet him, but I DIDN’T SEE HER, and it was the heartbreak of my life. When they left, the waitress was in my way, and I could have cried. Lauren Collins is so awesome as Paige Michalchuk. So. Awesome. But I saw tiny gay Marco in the flesh! And that was certainly cool enough.
The rest of the day was spent wandering around Toronto and staring at it from high in the air, in the CN Tower, which looks like the Canadian version of the Space Needle. And made me want to actually get off my ass and work out when we’re going to Seattle this summer. Anyway. I took some pictures up there, and it was fun. I love being high above the earth.
After I had had my fill of staring at the ground from 1400 feet in the air, we made fun of various Canada-branded things in the gift shop, and I bought a $4 lemonade that was just delicious, and a squirrel walked over my hand! And got it all dirty! I thought squirrels were afraid of people. Stupid Canadian squirrels, getting my hand all dirty. And me without my anti-bacterial hand-sanitizer.

And then we found this thing:
And spent some time taking stupid pictures in front of it.
On Friday we went to Centre Island and read books out in nature for a few hours. I read pretty much the entirety of the fourth Traveling Pants book, and Allison read, like, twelve pages of The Neverending Story. Then it was time for dinner from a hot dog cart and Prince Caspian, which I kind of loved despite the fact that it changed pretty much every single thing from the book, but I’ll get into that later. You know I will.

There was also a lot of drinking taking place that I have glossed over. And a very serious drunk conversation about why I can’t write and why the Iraq War is fucked. I mean, what else would you talk about while you’re blasted?

Saturday was recovery day, for we’d both become gimped after all the walking we’d been doing, so we just lay around and watched internet things until we got hungry. I kept falling asleep on the couch and generally being a very bad houseguest, but all those nights of drinking had taken their toll on me.

Sunday was another eleven hours in the car, and it rained the whole goddamn time—until I returned to New England, which makes it clear that New England is the only place to live. As much as I admire Canada for things like gay marriage and free healthcare, and as much as I rage and storm and bitch about this country, the United States is my home, and even if John McCain becomes our next President, I’m not leaving.
Although, on the serious, please don’t let John McCain become our next President.

And now it’s time for a postcript!

Oh my god, I have to tell this story, even though I am pretty sure it’s only amusing for me. But! I shall plow on. Somewhere on the way to Toronto—either at the beginning of the New York Thruway or the end of the Mass Pike—I got cut off by this bulldozer of a woman in a silver Subaru* with New Hampshire plates and a rainbow cat sticker on the back bumper underneath an overpass for Dyke Road. Just as I was going, “What the fuck, dyke-o?” I looked up and saw the sign and just laughed and laughed and laughed. Dyke Road! That that exists at all is fun enough for me. I wish I could have taken a picture.

*I actually have no idea what kind of car she was driving, but I thought I’d just make it as gay as possible.

PPS:
Arguably, the greatest thing about Canada is its overwhelmingly awesome selection of junk food not available in the United States. Mostly, I am speaking of their chip selection, and specifically I wish to talk about these beauties:
Yes. Jalapeno and cheddar Doritos. One of the greatest ideas for a Doritos flavor if you ask me. And I checked on Frito-Lay’s website, just to be sure, and these bastards are not available within a 50 mile radius of Nashua, New Hampshire. Heartbreak! I know they’ve been putting out all these fancy new flavors of Doritos even over here lately, but they all suck—except for Smokin’ Cheddar BBQ, but I can no longer find those anywhere. Why don’t we have better junk food than Canada, America? This is the land of fat people! Make it happen.