so.
i'm trying to learn the metric system. apparently it's impossible when you have 25 years of training in the wacky american system. and apparently i need online conversion tools for everything to survive. when i order meat at the grocery store in canada, do you think it'd be weird to boot up the laptop and tell the butcher, "yeah, that'll be a minute, buddy. you do use minutes here, right?" ahhh, blind panic. an old and familiar friend.
but i have learned that i am 177 cm tall. and my answer for "how much do you weigh?" is the ever-constant, "none of your goddamn business. why do you have to judge women based on their weight, you sexist fucking asshole?" of course, this could lead to a possibly embarrassing situation when i'm filling out forms in immigration. i'll play it by ear.
also: toque = hat, check
chesterfield = couch, check
zed = zee
got it.
oh, and joe - we minnesotans get the igloo stuff. actually, it's more like "do you have running water in your igloo?" and i'm up on the hockey front as to hate hockey here is to risk expulsion from the state. i feel for you, brother. canadian/minnesotan solidarity - i'm counting on that.
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maybe this is just some residual snarkiness on my part from The War of Nortern Aggression you southern folks are still so worked up over, but i think i just heard the distant yelp of a million alabamians shrieking, "damn straight, sister! testify!"
and besides, i don't think my FBI file is quite fat enough yet. really, i'm just giving those agents the help they need to prosecute me and ship me away to a nice, dank cell. what can i say? i'm a giver.
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