I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been blazing trails all over the foreign wilderness known as Canada, which is best known for its major contributions to civilization (listed in level of importance): Celine Dion, Degrassi and Justin Bieber.
The million-dollar question is when I’m moving here. Canada has everything someone could dream of having. Their national symbol is a lot easier to draw Uncle Sam or a US flag or a portrait of Snooki. They have a drumline perform EVERY MORNING in front of the Parliament building. They offer overpriced liberal arts educations for students who want useless majors. They have MacDonalds. They speak English and French, so moving to Canada is instant class (but it’s not like they can get away with acting superior to you when your French accent is miserable because France doesn’t like them anyways).
Canada is almost my dream come true. If it weren’t for the fact that not one single restaurant I’ve been to offers lemonade (none at all! not even regular lemonade, because I understand that pink lemonade is a commodity no matter where you are. But not even regular lemonade!), otherwise known as the sweet nectar of life, I’d be looking for a cardboard box to call home right now.
It’s Almost The End of Summer And I Still Haven’t
– finished LOST. alksjdflkasjdflkjsadlfksdjfl
Hm, I thought this list would be a lot longer.