Most people who know me, know I have preoccupation with Canada. Hockey is mainly to blame. And the Winter Olympics didn’t help. I was on a date and started gushing to this guy about how much I loved Canada and how I wanted to go to British Columbia because it is so so beautiful. He said he couldn’t wait to get there either – because pot is legal there. Our first and last date, ladies and gentlemen.
My obsession is not limited to geography, but also includes Canada’s people. I love ’em. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’m going to marry a French Canadian hockey player and make tons of French Canadian babies, enough for a whole hockey team (including a goalie, that’s six. Sheesh.) But not just any French Canadian. French Canadian Maxime Talbot: *cue angel harp music*
He’s a winger for the Pittsburgh Penguins, and a scrappy one at that. He’s an “energy guy,” as they like to say. Hell, he even endorses an energy drink called Venom Energy. (Sidenote: My children will never drink Venom Energy.) My friend Katherine turned a texting conversation we had about him into a one-act play on her blog, Vandy Right. I had a gchat conversation about it this morning even with my friend Nate:
me: so when i do eventually meet him, fall madly in love and get married, we can all look back on this and say, haha, remember when you were a psycho?
me: i like your confidence
Nate: i feel like we’ve been joking about it so much that it has to happen at this point
me: manifest destiny!
… and so on and so forth. In the realm of shamelessly using my friends for blog material, ‘prahmoting’ is courtesy of Andrew Baranak, THE Baranak of the “Not Applicable Brew” blog. Nate is also a contributor. They use blogspot. BOOOOOOOOOO! And last night I got a photo text from Genna-I’m-going-to-cure-cancer-Brown, while I was at the outdoor symphony concert. When I opened the text, the sound I made was something resembling a gasp and “HA!” all at once. This was the photo:
If I had a cat when I was five, and if we both had early-onset gum disease, this would have definitely been me circa 1992. How do you get a cat to smile like that? You can’t even mistake that for a yawn, I mean, that’s pure joy. Don’t even tell me it’s photoshopped, I’ll cry myself to sleep for weeks.
Anyways, thanks, Genna, and expect to see this gem in the header next week. I think it very perfectly sums up the Prah 2.0 experience.