I have run away from America. Blame it on Jackson's harassment stories, blame it on the high gas prices...I've crossed the border.
Canada is not very different. They have different money, even though they use the dollar sign. They play baseball and football and soccer and basketball, but man, their hockey is a lot better. In fact, we're all sitting together right now, watching a playoff game. I feel so Canadian.
Their mountains are very beautiful. Their speed limit signs are confusing, because you're allowed to 70 on a regular street. Gosh, those speeding Canadians.
I got to use my new passport, which was very exciting. The Canadian border patrol agent wanted to know where we lived, what we were doing, etc. Then she asked if we were related. We're not, but our last names are almost the same (I have finally found a Petersen with an "e"!!) Border patrol agents need to learn how to smile. (Also, I can now say from personal experience that there is more than one Canadian border patrol agent. Take that, Byron.)
I came with Carly. Here is us, being happy.
My friend's parents just had a conversation about how warm it was in the house. "Yeah, it's like TWENTY-FOUR!" I looked over, extremely consternated. Carly: "degrees celsius." My word, we're not in Kansas anymore.
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