Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Guest Blog: Oh Canadia!



A few months ago, I somehow stumbled upon the blog, Whiskeymarie


A certain turn of phrase in a post about procrastination immediately enamoured me with (enamoured me of?) Fuck! made me like her. 


I even told her so. See?


I continued reading her blog and I continued liking what I read. Recently I e-mailed her and Whiskeymarie graciously accepted my request to write a guest post for The Real Johnson. Enjoy!



(Disclaimer:  The following presentation is in no way meant to make fun of Canadians.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  This is simply yet another opportunity for me to display my profound ignorance when it comes to matters of peoples other than myself.  Please send any angry retorts, exploding squirrel mail bombs, burned American flags and such and such to Johnson.  I blame him for this mess.)

My knowledge of all things Canadian is limited, to say the least.  One would think that since I grew up in Northern MN (which in my mind is practically Canada anyways), and since I have a charming tendency to elongate my “O”s when speaking, that I would have done a bit more research on our neighbors to the north, but one would be so very, very wrong in thinking that.  I blame our sub-standard U.S. public school systems, if we’re gonna play the blame game here.  Sure, at one point I had all of the Provinces memorized for some test in geography, but we all know that learning is for suckers and this information was forgotten the minute I left the classroom.  Beyond that, I think we learned a bit about your governmental system, which (if memory serves me right, which it rarely does) I vaguely remember involves an exiled Queen, Parliamentary hijinks, Mounties and free Universal healthcare for everyone, even those pesky poor people. 

Am I off the mark?  Yeah- don’t answer that.

Anyways…

Here, in no particular order, are facts* and observations that I have gathered about Canada in my noggin over the years:

  • I have been to Canada four times in my 39 years:  Thunder Bay was the destination once on a sad family road trip when I was about 13.  It was gray and drizzly the whole way, we spent a few hours at a “Fort” of some sort where the employees dressed in historical costumes and acted as such.  Think: Renaissance Fair minus the booze and boobs.  Twice I went to Winnipeg with my girlfriends so that we could go out bar-hopping as we were only 19-20, and in Canada you only had to be 18 to go out, get drunk, and seduce those exotic Canadian boys.  The fourth trip was a miserable affair- I had to drive into a very rustic and remote area to pick up my sister who had been working at a fishing lodge all summer.  The trip home involved: nearly getting killed by herds of deer in the woods, some town called Kenore (Kenora?), dancing at a former disco while men old enough to have Vietnam flashbacks hit on me, and the first time I saw anyone smoke hash. 
  • Of the three locales, I liked Winnipeg the best.  And from what I learned by watching many, many Kids in the Hall episodes, this means I’m kind of slutty and trashy, which is a surprisingly accurate assessment of my character.
  • Poutine is both horrifying and wonderful at the same time.  Granted, my friends and I never, ever get tired of referring to is as Pou-tang, but bless you folks for having the brilliance to combine fried potatoes, cheese and gravy.  If you could find it in your hearts to add bacon, I’d have to marry/make out with you all. 
  • I fell in love with smoking in Winnipeg.  Everyone smoked those Export A cigarettes that I always thought seemed so European. I never smoked on a regular basis, unless you count drunken chain-smoking one pack straight-through once a month or so smoking. But I fell in love with the idea of smoking.  Somehow, you guys just made it look so much cooler to me. 
  • Speaking of Winnipeg- my first trip there with my girlfriends was where I also had sex with my first uncircumcised penis.  And yes, it was attached to a man.  It was a guy that I met out at a bar- we went back to his place (on a side note: my friends obviously hated me as they let me go home with a total stranger in a FOREIGN COUNTRY. He could have indoctrinated me into your Socialist ways for all they knew).  Where was I?  Oh yeah- we went back to his place and did the deed.  The penis thing threw me off a bit at first, but lord knows we Americans live to conquer things, and I wasn’t about to let a surprise penis set me back in my conquest.  Oddly enough, the only two uncircumcised penises (peni?) that have traveled into my nether-regions have both been of Canadian origin.  I’m not sure what this says about you guys, or what this says about me.  Let us just say I was a bit of a whore and leave it at that. 
  • And in no order with minimal explanation:  You seem to like hockey as much as we do, we both have maple trees, I work with two Canadians that I’m aware of (but it’s not like you guys wear identifying armbands or anything), and many of your consumer products are also labeled in French, which I find intimidating. 

So there you go- penises, smoking, fried things and Kids in the Hall references.  That pretty much sums up all of my Canada knowledge/experience in five sad bullet points.  I should be ashamed of myself, if only I were capable of such a thing as shame. 

~Whiskeymarie

*These are not facts.

 

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