Wait, that’s Canada Dry, not Canada Day.
Whatever. Same shit, different pile.
Anyway, before the fireworks are lit, I’d like to clarify a few Canadian clichés (I’m sure other people – Kelly to the west, Richard to the east, and everyone inbetween - can also help me out) before we pop open the bottles of Molson.
We do not have an accent (we pronounce about the English way).
We do not end our questions with the word “eh.”
We do not wear trucker hats (a.k.a. hoser caps) and plaid flannel.
We do not live in igloos (only when Home Depot has sold out of portable a/c units).
It does not snow here all year round (winters in the Toronto area can be mild).
It does get incredibly hot and humid during the summer (my curly hair!).
We do not know who Tom is (you know, that other guy who lives in Canada).
We also don't know who Mike is.
Mounties do not walk the streets, but at fetish fairs (it's all about the uniform).
Moose do not walk the streets, but there are shitloads of them in Toronto.
We are not all polite and courteous (I will push you off the sidewalk into the street if you step in my way – don’t try it, grandma).
We are not all self-effacing (we're just shittin' ya).
Tim Hortons is not known for his hockey skills, but for his coffee (and donuts).
Not all Canadians love hockey (the sacrilege! the shock!).
There are probably dozens more, but I’ll just reinforce another stereotype and worry about it later.
It’s time to kick back and relax, celebrate with friends and family, and get drunk enough that the weekend blurs from one day to the next (with very little beer barfing).
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
Note: For all those below the 49th parallel, Happy 4th of July, and for all of those who aren’t celebrating any particular holiday, celebrate anyway!