I was in Canada, noseys. Where have you been?

This past weekend I visited my friend Craig in Regina, Saskatchewan.

I don't know a great linear way to recount the events of the weekend, so I'll just dive in with a bunch of sections. Whoo!

The night of my arrival turned into a veritable North American Bloggapalooza, when I went out for drinks with Craig, Palinode, Schmutzie, and Fridayfilms, all of whom have been friends for a number of years, and all of whom I was very excited to meet in 3-D.

LITTLE IMPRESSIONS:

Palinode and I actually hung out a while ago, when he was in Chicago for "business reasons."

(He's in the mob. As are Schmutzie and Friday, I suspect, which is why none of them use their real names online. I'm doing my part to help conceal their true identities, mostly for my own protection. Craig is either not involved in this circle of illicit Canadian underground crime, or he has balls of steel and balks not in the face of danger, refusing to be forced into anonymity by the strong arm of the lawless.)

P-node, the first thing that struck me about you is your unique style of enunciation. You left me a message when you first got to Chicago, and your "Hello, Kelly, it's [P-node], here," reminded me so much of the Sesame Street correspondent's "Hi, ho! Kermit theeeee Frog, here," and I'm afraid that stuck despite the fact that you neither look, act, or speak like Kermit the Frog. I mean this in the best way possible, I assure you.

Oh, God. I'm so bad at this.

My impression of Palinode is that he is a wonderfully genuine sweetheart. He's very easy to get along with, but not because he's some sort of generic milquetoasty boring boy, (he is most certainly not any of those things,) but because he is warm and funny and delightful to be around. He is also one of the few people I know who can wear a cowboy hat, and he managed to catch and laugh at some of my smaller and more idiotic jokes, which I really appreciated.

Schmutzie is likewise a delight. She's smart and funny and really great, and, like the other folks I met this past weekend, I wish I could hang out with her more regularly to get to know her better.

Schmutzie got her hair cut recently, and even though I didn't see it at it's original length, I think the new look is very suiting and flattering. It's all short and kitteny, and looks great with her very cool butterfly-frame specs (which also suit her). I dig when a person has a distinct style befitting his/her personality, like it developed as an outgrowth of who they are instead of being assumed, like a costume. Though the latter can work, too. It just takes work. Someone who has his/her own style is hard to ignore, as is Schmutzie. And that's cool.

Funny thing, when we first met, Schmutz called me "Luva" and I totally didn't respond. It didn't bug me or anything, it's just not something I ever say out loud. Apparently, there's been some speculation as to my mental pronunciation of "Luva." To clear things up, it's pronounced like the Spice Girls' "If you wanna be my Luva, you gotta get wit my friends," as opposed to "Loova," like "Lula" from the movie "Wild At Heart." (Directed by David Lynch, starring Nicholas Cage and Laura Dern, with some very special appearances by Laura's tits.)

But, it's fun to imagine the latter, with Nicholas Cage as Sailor, standing on the hood of a car screaming "Luuuuuuuvaaaaaaaaa" with his hands stretched to the sky, before hopping through traffic to grab and kiss me, as I stand there with my hand stupidly affixed to my hair, gasping "Sailor???" (Does anyone else know what I'm talking about?)

Schmutzie: while I was in Regina, my pink Powerpuff Girl sneakers totally busted. I'm very sad. Anyway, you're grand.

Friday has a distinct style as well, complete with cute skirts and shoes, and military pith helmet. How COOL is that? We all tried it on, and it fit everyone but Craig, who's a tall guy with quite the sizeable head.

You know what they say about guys with big heads? Big pith helmets.

No, but anyway.

Friday has a sweet and gentle demeanor, but there's something very interesting teeming underneath. She doesn't look at you, she regards you fully, and it's rather a flattering sensation. Friday totally reminds me of Snow White in a way, except that she's got brains and personality, whereas Snow White, at least in the Disney representation, is all vapid and annoying and definitely on some wonky combination of vodka and tranquilizers. Friday is not like that. She's cool as hell, and I'm so glad I got to meet her.

Girl Friday: I'm sorry if comparing you to the Disney princess most deserving to be snapped in half over my thigh came out sounding like a back-handed compliment. I didn't mean it that way, my mouth just runs away with me sometimes. (What an image that is.) You are enchanting, and I would totally go dancing with you at the gay bar.

(Speaking of which, visit this and laugh until you cry.)

Gordon is the bunny rabbit who lives with P-node and Schmutz. (The latter two are married. Gordon is single, as far as I know.) He's cute, because he's a bunny.

Gordon, I appreciate that you tolerated my insisting on calling you "puppy dog," and I'm sorry I petted your nose the wrong way and made you act all squirrelly. I hope that squirrelization didn't confuse your sense of rodent identity.

Craig is one of my best friends, and I'm afraid I know him too well at this point to describe him via first impression. Hm. You can't tell much about him based on his site, other than that he's funny and he likes big words. Actually, that about sums him up. Kidding.

And you know what they say about guys with big words? Big ... words.

(What?)

KIDDING, I said!

It hardly matters what I say about Mr. Visu here, since he rarely reads my diary anymore. As such, I don't risk annoying him by saying ...

Craig? You know I love you, but it might be in your best interest to take a chisel and a bottle of bleach to that microwave of yours. I'm no princess, but ... yeuch. (It might be in your best interest to empty the wastebasket in your bathroom, too, but that's my fault. Or rather, it's the fault of my then-menstruating uterus, Cyndi, who may have left a few ... um ... items in the rubbish. She's an awful guest.) (Ew. Sorry.)

Craig is a wonderful friend who speaks in poetic truths and sees his people the way they are, but understands that truth changes sometimes, and allows enough wiggle room so that his friends have the shelter they need to show their ugly sides. I wish I could think of a less verbally cumbersome description, but perhaps it's only fitting that I can't. If Craig says you have a big heart, you're golden. If he says you have a big heart "in your way," you've got work to do. Trust me. That sounds like another back-handed compliment, but it's not. Having friends like Craig makes one feel a bit more sure of oneself.

Oh, and Craig, I noticed when I got home that I was without my book and my mascara. I'm on to you. I think you're sitting on your ungodly painful sofa right now, reading Catch-22 and applying my mascara to that little patch of whiskers on your chin while you fantasize about Yossarian. You thieving bastard.

One more thing:

Add "mimicry" to the ranks of words I consistently misread, along with "moped," "mistypings," and "menus."

What is a mee-mee-cry?

Poo-tee-weet?

You know, Canadians drive on the same side of the road as Americans, most places accept American cash, the water circles down the drain in the same direction as it does here. And did you know that, other than referring to the bathroom as the "washroom," dinner as "supper," and throwing in a superflous-but-pretty extra vowel in words like "favorite," "color," and "neighbor," they speak near-perfect Americanese?

Also, "non-dairy creamer" is referred to as "coffee whitener." (If I "keep" putting "things" in "quotes," I'm going to "want" to "poke" out my "eyes.") Both names for the mysteriously delicious substance are like warnings to consumers that what we are stirring into our coffee was most decidedly not originally intended to be food. "Non-dairy creamer" (AUGH! My eye!) sounds like something that might induce orgasm, while "coffee whitener" (GAH! The other one! I'm blind!) sounds like a very aggressive bleach, or maybe a hate crime. Still ... yummy.

I heard nary an "oot," "aboot," "hoose," or "sawrry" all weekend, despite the fact that I was surrounded by (*gasp*) Canadians.

GONE are misconceptions of the ubiquity of Canadian accents, mostly based on my pre-adolescent viewings of "Degrassi Jr. High" and "Anne of Green Gables." (I've surrendered to the quotes.) So, the validity of picking the accent as a teasing factor is significantly diminished. And would be hypocritical of me, considering I've lived in both Boston and Chicago, two American cities renowned for their heavy and sometimes incomprehensible accents.

So, since a country is defined entirely by language, food, traffic laws, and plumbing currents, then what's the point of Canada and the United States being different countries, anyway?

The answer: BEER.

Compared to the beer I drank in Regina, the beer served in US bars is a bit like yellow water, AKA "urine." Generally speaking. So, I say that we get rid of the border between Canada and the States, and have one vast and peaceful nation run by the most successful and popular brewery in Canada. Someone contact the UN.

By the way, "Regina" is not pronounced "Ruh-jeeee-na" like the woman's name, but rather "Rej-eye-na" like the woman's body part.

Regina is a lovely city populated by about 200,000 people. It has a university, a big and beautiful park, and a pretty downtown area. There are also a number of great pubs and restaurants, and I imagine a bunch of other cool stuff, though I wasn't there long enough to see most of it.

Friday, when you asked me for my assessment of your fair city and I answered, "It's a lovely place, but I wouldn't move here," that was another example of my mouth running away with me, and I sounded really snotty. I do think it's a lovely place, and I really like the people I met there, so, like anywhere, it could be a great place to live. I'd have built-in friends. To tell the truth, when I got back to Chicago, the sheer size of my city felt a little silly to me, like a giant heaping bowl of empty calories.

(Nearly all done in conjunction with Craig, my fabulous host.)

Thursday:

- LuvArrival in Regina after an early flight, greet Craig with grins and hugs.

- Nap. Dream that I thought it would be funny to wear a bunch of fish on my head, like la pescadora version of Carmen Miranda. Spend much of the rest of the evening worrying that my hair smells like fish.

- Drink with the folks mentioned above. Fun.

- Movie watching until Craig and I get too talky and sleepy.

- Sleep.

Friday:

- Movie watching.

- Much viewing of and guffawing at "The Family Guy," my new favorite show. My God, we laugh ourselves geriatric. HA! Meaning, we PEE OURSELVES! (I totally just made that up. I'm so funny and sensitive.)

- Some food thrown in there somewhere, followed by more slovenly out-hanging. (I learned that whiskey on an empty stomach, followed by tofu and veggie satay gives me a headache like a thin rod is slowly boring its way behind my left eyeball. Yay!)

- Karaoke. I sing (and forget the bridge of) "Because the Night," and "Moondance." I also step on the microphone chord and send the mike and its stand toppling groundward, in typical Kelly fashion. Much fun.

- Sleep.

Saturday:

- More slovenly and totally fun out-hanging.

- More "Family Guy."

- Maybe some food? Some shopping? Yeah. Well, whatever.

- More out-hanging.

- Meet up with P-node, Schmutzie, Friday, Laili-6, and Ladybug for drinks. (Ladies, I wish I had gotten a chance to talk with you to a greater extent. Please don't feel slighted that I didn't mention you above, since you both seemed lovely. God, I'm making this awkward. Oh, God.)

- Go to billiard pub and drink very yummy beer served in a motherfucking trough.

- Go from there to classy tapas place and drink water, sculpt my napkin into strange shapes, and talk to Schmutzie. Pee quite frequently due to previously imbibed trough of beer.

- Home, out-hanging, and sleep.

Sunday:

- Arise begrudgingly and leave for airport. Blah.

- Maybe I cry on and off all the way back home, and wish I wasn't leaving. (Don't tell anyone. I have my hard-as-diamonds Wonderwoman reputation to consider. Ha. HA!)

- Get home, where my cat expresses his joy at my return by lunging teeth-first into my right eyeball. I call him "Little Fucker" and swat him away, then we cuddle. Ah, domestic bliss.

Every weekend this month, I've either been visiting or visited by people dear to me. It's been wonderful, but I think it's had a cumulative effect of making me wonder where home is, why I am where I am, and what the bloody hell I'm doing. I don't have any answers. I'm thinking too much about the past, I have no idea what's in my future, and my footing on the present is strangely tenuous. I'm discovering brand new ways to miss people, and it sucks a little, but it's also a privilege.

It will get better, because it has to. Next page, eh?

Real quick!

The quote of the day:

"God loves the motherfucking lowly motherfuckers."

Spoken by noxiously drunk, crack-addled, 35-year-old woman on the bus, as she rambled on about her new grandson and her gay brother, and how she will one day rise and shine in the glory of Jesus Christ.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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