Coming back to my apartment after being away for the better part of a week, I find that my mail box is stuffed with junk mail. Actual physical junk mail. Like spam but not an email. It’s like someone had shove cans of inedible meat into my mailbox. Meat that had lain there in the damp, overcrowded mailbox and had mutated into a coagulated mass that chased unwary travelers down unwary roads and…Okay I promised myself that I wouldn’t have any mutated creatures from the Pits of Doom in this post.
So…Spam. Most of it went directly into the trash can placed right next to the mailbox. Except for one which was addressed to “Our dear neighbours…”, that’s their “dear neighbours”, that’s me. I’m pretty sure that my neighbours did not go through the trouble of mailing me. My neighbours consist of a nice Chinese family and a lady who drives a blue beetle. Going up to the post office wouldn’t’ make sense. They could slip a note under my door or throw it at me or something. The whole ailing it routine made no sense.
There could be only one explanation. Evil space aliens had taken them captive and from their base of operations in the apartment were sending me cloying letters. Letters which promised me that I could cut my debt by refinancing my home mortgage. It seemed like a good offer. Except that I do not possess a home or a mortgage. But it was sure kind of my alien nieghbours to think about me. It just goes to show you that being scaly, green skinned and covered with poisonous barbs does not make you a bad human being…uh alien being.
The safety certificate for an elevator (A hotel elevator, the hotel I stayed in, in Ottawa. If you were interested. If you weren’t tough luck.) had its safety certificate issued my the Ottawa Elevating Device commission. Elevating Device. Does that include magic carpets, and witch’s broomsticks? They elevate. They are devices. Do they need the certificate to be displayed in a prominent position? Will it affect their aerodynamic nature? (Someone said that elevating device could refer to illegal narcotics. I’m not going to go there.)
Lessons from north of the border.
· You can bar hop alone only so much before you start worrying that you are an alcoholic.
· The restaurant with the prettiest waitresses has the lousiest food.
· A beaver tail is not in fact a tail from a beaver. And despite this, it is delicious.
· Canadians like their maple syrup.
· Montréalers like their strip clubs.
· Driving at a hundred miles an hour, rolling down your windows and blasting cold air at your innocent, sleeping passenger can be disconcerting.
· You will always be a quarter short of your cab fare.
· There will always be a bad American Sitcom on the television when you turn it on.
· Canadians have the least impressive money in the known universe. (It has ice hockey players on it! It looks like a ticket for a ice-hockey game!)
3 comments:
For me, the silver lining is in the fact that you recognised ice hockey players!!
"· A beaver tail is not in fact a tail from a beaver. And despite this, it is delicious."
So you like eating beaver that's not actually tail of a beaver? Seriously Rajneesh, the world doesn't need to know.
"· Driving at a hundred miles an hour, rolling down your windows and blasting cold air at your innocent, sleeping passenger can be disconcerting."
You're alive, aren't you?
1) Holiday und work.
2) Recognized their skates.
3)The world needed to know. One good turn deserves another.
...In cryogenic suspension.
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