Rare grizzly-polar bear hybrid attack claims the lives of 20 in Powell River, BC

"They're not so different from us," people chuckle. "After all, we're just separated by an imaginary line that was created by politicians. I mean, maybe they shot-gun beers a bit more than us and could more easily dodge a grizzly bear attack while walking to the grocery store, but really, they're not that different from us." But here's the thing I've discovered: they are.
Over the last week I have learned that Canadians are latently responsible for the war in Iraq, poverty in Bangladesh, and the destruction of thousands of acres of rainforest in the Amazon. And, while the reasons are seemingly innocuous, one probes a little deeper and discovers the root of all evil: hell has indeed frozen over and Satan's right-hand man is Paul Martin.
For example, did you know that Canadians will NEVER say "Take a shower." It is always, "Have a shower." They look at you innocently and ask, "Are you going to have a shower?"
"Yes," I then respond, "One day I am going to have a shower. First, however, I hope to own a home. But in that home I hope to have a shower. For now, though, I am slightly more concerned with my personal cleanliness than I am with potential mortgage payments. Therefore, I am going to take a shower." Jerks.
Ok, so maybe I am blowing this a little out of proportion. Maybe. Probably not, but maybe. Canadians DO say some funny shit, though (at least in my mind. p.s. right now I am watching Laguna Beach at Jenny's house and it is awesome. Rocky is pissed/hella bummed. She just said, "I don't think I can cry anymore." Oh, Rocky, I'm here if you need a shoulder to lean on). Anyway back to funny shit Canadians say. They almost always say "washroom" instead of "bathroom." Instead of saying "7th grade, 8th grade, etc. they always say "grade 7, grade 8." They have NO concept of the freshman/sophomore/junior/senior system. They call fifths of liquor "two-sixes" or "twixers," and a pint of alcohol is a called a "mickey." I know that these details seem rather miniscule, but I have a great time noticing them. They always make me laugh, and we should at least be open to the possibility that they have been the catalyst of all major world conflict (people have explained the Vietnam war with myriad reasons, but no one has ever considered the fact that Canadians pronounce the letter "z" "zed" instead of "zee" as a reason. I'm not saying this minute cultural difference helped the Viet Cong to better organize its attacks, but stranger things have happened.)
All things aside, I have had a pretty decent time since I've been here in Powell River, BC. And by decent I mean that this place is fucking great. On the second night I shotgunned 4 beers with a guy named Pat and then went to a rad dive bar which happened to be the most popular place in town to watch the dad of Spencer, the guy who's house we were partying at, play covers of hit rock songs in his band "High Strung." They headlined the bar as it's only act for the entire weekend. The place was packed and I was severely intoxicated. At one point I headed back towards the smoking room to look for Jenny and saw her with the biggest, happiest grin I have ever seen, surrounded by hordes of young Canadian revelers looking similarily jovial. Canada is great.
Then last Saturday we went to a placed called Savary Island. It is considered the "tropics of Canada" (which would kind of be like calling Flagstaff the "Antarctica" of Arizona). Hundreds of young Canadians lined the beach playing soccer and making sand castles. Some appeared to be beer-bonging out of a gasoline funnel. I saw at least 4 hockey players with maple leaf tattoos, and learned that the girls that have sex with said hockey players are affectionately deemed, "puck-fucks." I want to be a puck-fuck. Then I saw tons of blood-red jellyfish that looked ready to murder unsuspecting swimmers, and picked up a live crab from the water after chasing it around for 15 minutes and shrieking like a 4 year old girl everytime it waved its pinchers at me. To top off the afternoon we took a water-taxi back to the main land. While waiting for the water taxi I watched a little boy that couldn't have been more than 4 years old jump off the 15 foot high dock we were sitting on into the water. His nickname was "Mac Dawg," and he certainly lived up to his gangster name by jumping off something that in feet was more than three times his age.
BC has been great, and I don't know when I'm coming home. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten 'bout 'merca. Jenny got me a Budweiser shirt that is screaming to be worn. For now though, rip it!

-Boosh Clown

p.s. Skeeter Jack's Outback Shack says, "Just gitter dun."

Song of the Day: Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols