Oh, Canada

Lately I’ve been forming connections with Canada (which Homer Simpson calls “America Junior.”)

First, I accidentally attended a Canada Day party this summer. Frank and I went to this bar in Austin to meet our friends Stefanie and Jon. We sat out on the patio and after about an hour, we started to notice that we just didn’t fit in. Everybody was saying things like “Eh” and “Ya” and there were Canadian flags on every table. And we were drinking some Canadian beer because it was on special. When the big Canadian flag beach ball landed on me, I knew something was up.

Jon, who is from Buffalo, has an understanding of Canada similar to ours of Mexico. He realized that it was indeed Canada Day and began telling us stories of hockey and other northern, foreign activities. This was a good move because we soon spotted a giant Canadian Flag cake. His tales made us look like true Canadians. And I would do whatever it took to be Canadian. I wanted that cake.

So we played with the beach ball and Jon assigned us all home cities in Canada (just in case anyone asked). Then came the true test: The rowdy group decided to sing the Canadian National Anthem. And guess what? Jon knew it! So we all watched him and sang along. I even danced and waved my arms about. I really wanted that cake. Stef and Frank almost ruined it for us with their poor faking skills.

After the anthem, I went up and cut four pieces of cake and luckily, nobody asked me where I was from. Ooh, that cake was good. They really know how to make a good dessert in Canada.

I thought my Canadian encounters were over but then this week there was another. While doing some internet searching of a title of one of my articles, I found that a girl at the University of Waterloo in Ontario had plagiarized me! She handed in my article to the student newspaper and put her name on it. I emailed the editor and when I didn’t get a response, I called him, fuming. Would I sue? Damn right I’d sue! And they should be prepared to pay up in cake.

Tim, the Canadian editor with one of those silly Canadian accents, apologized profusely and said they would take it down. Then, my third Canadian encounter happened:

He said that I wasn’t the first one to bring this to their attention—the day before a student at the University had come forward to tell them that this article had already run on MSN. A Canadian supporter! A Canadian who’s got my back!

I’ve never been there but now that I have all these buds, I might pay Canada a visit. I mean, I could stay with the people from the bar, the bakers, the plagiarizing priss, editor Tim or maybe random Writinggal fan. Maybe Canada could be the place I go and people get excited to see me—like Mary Kate and Ashley in China. Or the Hilton sisters in Japan. Or David Hasselhoff in France. Yep, start baking a cake because I’m coming to see you, America Junior.