I am not a seasoned traveller. I have never been beyond the invisible line that acts as my country’s border. I keep to myself, my space, my province and never bother the outside world unless it is to pester them on the world wide web.
I’m a homebody. But next week, for the first time ever, I shall grow a set of nuts wings and leave all that is safe and familiar to expand my horizons and leave my mark on the world.
Like a dog marking it’s territory, I’m lifting my leg and getting on a jet plane to pee on the world. Specifically, the United States of America. Our friendly neighbour to the south. Big Brother. The States.
I mean, how different can y’all be? We watch the same television (thank the heavens for that, because Canadian broadcasting is well, fucking boring. Once they took the Beachcombers, the Friendly Giant and Casey and Finnegan off the air, it all went down hill. And I would know. The only channel I get with out any static is our national CBC channel.) We enjoy the same modern conveniences. (How I love my indoor plumbing, my iPod and my McDonald’s drive thru.) We even laugh at the same jokes. (Insert lawyer/political/blonde joke here…)
How hard can it be? At least that is what I thought until I posted this last week. Who knew a whippersnipper could cause such a cultural drift? It’s a fucking weed whacker, grass trimmer, cutter of all green things that shouldn’t be there. (In my case it also operates as an instrument of terror which I chase my kids and dog around with while gunning the motor.)
Here I thought we spoke the same language as you Yanks. Turns out I was wrong. Oh, I get flack from time to time for my spelling words with a U (neighbour, colour, etc) from my American friends. And when I speak on the phone to my southern neighbours I am occasionally razzed that I pronounce my Z’s like Zed instead of Zee and for using the term “Eh?” at the end of more than a few sentences.
(I can’t help it. It’s a conversational device that allows me to turn any phrase I say into an opinion poll without seeming pushy. It’s like breathing air. I can’t. Stop. It. Eh?)
As Canadians spread from sea to shining sea, we are a vast and varied people. But we all have a common bond. We all perk up when we hear the theme song to Hockey Night in Canada, and we all know that shopping in a crowded Canadian Tire store on a Saturday is worse than taking a pack of toddlers into a Toys-R-Us at Christmas time.
And coast to coast, we speak a language of slang Yanks have yet to embrace. My husband fears that while I am walking the slick city streets of Chicago next week, I will need a translator to interpret my speech.
All right, that may have been an over exaggeration, unless of course I wander into a restaurant and ask for some screech or swish, a bowl of poutine, a pike, a butter tart, a glass of homo milk, a two-four and a beaver tail and then complain because they didn’t bring a serviette with it.
(After that meal, I’d be wandering around Chicago, flashing my girls and wandering around asking people how many clicks it is to the nearest Mountie office, while wearing my toque in the dead of the summer.)
Might as well pin a “Kick Me, I’m a Canadian tourist” sign on my back now.
Not that I’m dreading my visit South. As a sports nut (most Canucks are. Afterall, we invented lacrosse, basketball and of course, our national past time, hockey), the idea of being on the very soil that houses Wrigley field is almost too much for me to take in. I dream of being able to break past security, and run naked around the stadium, while imagining the stands filled with screaming people all chanting “Redneck! Redneck!”
(Everyone has to have a dream.)
My biggest fear is my sophisticated American friends will think I’m a hillbilly and believe me as indicative of all Canadian peoples. Classless. (Thank goodness other Canadians will be there to prove that theory wrong.) I’m not. I’m a REDNECK, who lives in the sticks; albeit very close to where the Inuit used to actually live in igloos, and I’m an educated woman.
(After all, thanks to our country I have an extensive education in bilingual cereal packaging. I know the french equivalents for free, prize and no sugar added.)
Just because I have to frequently clean the grease off my barbeque so the bears will stay off my deck and I make sure Nixon the World’s Greatest Dog, Ever. stays by my side so as not to get eaten by a cougar does not make me a hillbilly.
We Canadians aren’t so very different from Americans. Sure we think that any beer with less than 6% alcohol is for sissies and the elderly, but really. Isn’t it? Yes, we design our kids halloween costumes around their snowsuits, and we trot them out to go trick or treating in a blizzard, but that just makes us a hardy people.
More reason for the Americans to love us. We’re not sissies nor wimps.
I plan to spend this week brushing up on my American history, and trying to remember to say ‘about’ as ‘aboot’ when I’m next door. After all, I just want to fit in and not cause any kerfluffles.
That’s what a good hoser does.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:22
Cracking my shit up.
Welcome to America!!!!! Wish I could meet you in person!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:27
Welcome! I’ve been to Chicago once. Had dinner at The House of Blues. Not all its cracked up to be. Enjoy.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:33
Keep them on their toes Redneck! Brush up on Bob and Doug, throw in a french phrase here and there and they will be at your mercy.
Gawd, now I wish I was going.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:35
We welcome you! I so want to come to where you live, bear! Inuit! Cool! We may not have as good a selection of hockey teams as you all do but nothing beats the hocky organ music.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:41
As an ex-pat from Regina, I loved and identified with your post.
Of course, I’ve found that California weather beats Saskatchewan weather any day.
They will love you in Chicago
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 9:52
Hoser! LMAO!
Haven’t heard that in ages.
Knock ‘em dead hon.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:00
Loved the post!! I’m an American who moved up here to the great white north 9 yrs ago now…and love everything about it (well maybe not the insanely cold winters loL)
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:10
That was hilarious. I used to be a tour guide in Quebec City. I had a VERY religious group of Catholic Mexicans on my bus. (they were there for World Youth Day – they were very faithful people)
I did my usual spiel about various foods to try in Quebec. And I said “One of my favourite French Canadian foods is Poutine. Yummy!”
Everyone gasped.
Apparently in Mexico that is a VERY bad thing. As someone explained “it’s a woman’s privates.” oops.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:22
Dude. Don’t direct people to me for their dose of Canadian class. Please. Am hoser born and bred (I HAVE BEEN TO POUCE COUPE, and caught baby pike on my fingers. My grandmother had a pet goat. And I don’t watch hockey, but I have had sex in a canoe.) I just know a few more big words than your average Bob or Doug. Thas’ all, eh.
(And? Laural? You told them that you like to eat *whore* pussy.)
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:29
Chicago will never be the same again! If you’re looking fun stuff to do in Chicago, let me know. In fact, even though I’m not going to BlogHer, maybe I’ll post a few ideas for those of you who are.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:32
Truthfully, T… most Yanks won’t notice your accent. We have so many regional accents in these Younited States, that most people will figure you for being from North Dakota or Minnesota or one of those places.
I’m sure our country will be a better place for your visit.
Oh, and be careful with the cabbies…. eh?
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 10:32
Oh, I’m sorry I won’t be there. I’d like to give you a hug. And show you my rack. Cuz I hear you like that.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 11:51
oh, us ‘Merkins will understand y’all just fine. Have fun
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 11:53
now listen, don’t flash the girls as you walk down the street – it’s not legal there. (one more difference between us and them, I’m afraid.)
also, they don’t know what a washroom is. (apparently they use theirs for resting) so don’t wait until the last minute to try to figure out where one is.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 12:06
Dude,you are true Hoser. And for God sake, don’t use the word couch while you’re down there either, they’ll just look at you with blank stares. Until you say sofa. What am I saying… go on, have some fun with em’ and say couch too.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 12:27
it makes me giggle that chicago is south for you, especially since my move to north carolina. and chicago being where it is, we’re very familiar with halloween costumes over snowsuites.
if it snows, and you’re driving around and you find a parking spot on the street that’s snow free, just keep driving. they’ll shoot you if you try to steal it.
my advice: BINNY’s for booze. it’s like a cathedral for alcoholics – everything you could ever imagine drinking. *sniffle* i miss binny’s. (it’s a chain – they’re all over the place.)
also, portillo’s – really yummy crinkley fries. and (i’m told) great hot dogs and italian beef.
if you do decide to display your girly bits to passers-by, remember all of the cameras. your every move will be on tape, and they’ll send the ticket in the mail.
have a wonderful time!!!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:24
Don’t say eavestrough, runners, washroom or garbage (it’s “TRASH” ya’ll!). Also, people from Maine think we all talk with French accents up here…even those of us from the Prairies and the West Coast, so try reaming off all the verbs and phrases you remember from Grade 6 french class. That’ll keep em happy. Have fun at Blogher…and ask if they’ll hold it in Vancouver next year would ya?
Your post made beer come flying out of my nose, eh?
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:24
As a Kansan, though it pains me to do so, I must point out that basketball was invented in the USA, albeit by a Canadian. If I did not mention this, since forty thousand things in the town I live (home of KU, where Naismith began college basketball) are named after Dr. Naismith, I would spontaneously combust, be beaten about the head and shoulders, and then deported.
Hopefully to Canada. I love it there.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:25
We’re gonna love ya, eh? One t’ing ya might wanna be careful of — people in Chi Town might confuse ya for a Yooper, eh? Dat’s a person from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, — U.P. — eh? And Yoopers are dere own t’ing, ya know? I oughta know. I married one. She knew right off what a whippersnipper was. She taught me dat fries ARE better with vinegar than ketchup. And just so’s ya know, “redneck” means somepin a little different in Alberta dan it means in Kentucky, but we don’t mind, eh?
Mark R from Michigan.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:29
I just got back from my trip to Canada to meet up with 2 of my best friends, and I gotta say, Canadians DO have their own little language going on!
I managed just fine, though, and you’ll manage the states wonderfully! Have a great trip!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:36
Oh, have loads of fun in Chicago! You’ll have a blast!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:41
If you ever decide to visit Boston, let me know! I’ll take you to the Red Sox game. Fenway Park is way better than Wrigley Field
(Of course as a rabid Sox fan, I’m a bit biased.)
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 13:48
Um, I know what a poutine is (but nothing else from that paragraph) and coming from a very Canadian hometown (lots and lots of transplants, my family being among them) I say “Eh” a lot. In my hometown we’ve also been known to “‘Trow down da stairs my keys”. We love hockey – well, my relatives do, I could care less – beer, ice fishing and snowmobiling.
However (you knew there had to be one), basketball was invented in Springfield, MA. I will not debate this subject.
Can’t wait to meet you in person, babe. Despite our language barrier we’ll get along just fine. We both know the universal language of alcohol.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 14:13
You are coming down here?!?! The women better lock up the men-folk! The temptation of Redneck Mommy will be too much for some of us!
I’m warm just thinking about it.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 15:30
Awesome post!
I’ll never forget the 1st time I talked to a friend I met online from Michigan, when she said OMG you have an accent I almost pee’d myself laughing. I never thought that anyone would ever say I had an accent.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 17:54
Chicago is my favorite city in the US – the food, the shopping, the food, the sailboats, the food….. Have a wonderful time!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 18:16
Hey, I’m a redneck at heart too, so I’m not going to disprove any theories! And the number of “ehs” at the end of my sentences will increase in correlation to the number of glasses of wine I suck back in quiet desperation.
And the beer? Why bother drinking beer with less than 6% alcohol?
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 18:39
I’m so bummed I won’t be there to see you navigate the cultural divide.
Have a great time, darlin’!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 19:27
procrastamom –
what the hell do they call eavestroughs?
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 19:39
Bob and Doug would be PROUD, T. You done this great nation of ours right with this post. Represent. (You’re taking a plaid jacket and a coonskin cap, right?)
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 19:47
They’re whippersnippers in Australia, too. Nor would we waste our time on weak beer.
Have fun at BlogHer, leave them wondering what that whirlwind was.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 20:51
You ever want to talk to another southern neighbor, give me a call!
Other than that, I got nothin. Half this post made no sense to me.
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 21:30
If I were drunk on Screech right now, I still don’t think I’d be as giggly as I was while reading list post.
I’m not at all ashamed that you’ll be representing us Canadians with some of your other esteemed blogging peeps. Have fun!
Tuesday, 17 July, 2007 at 21:41
You must be going to Blogher?
Chi town is about 1.5 hours south of where I live, but I won’t be there. Sad for me.
PS: My Dane Diesel? I imported him from Canada. Shhh.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 4:08
ok, now you have to record a wav. file and post it so we can hear you! Or even better a mobile phone clip, upload it to youtube and embed it here, we wnat to see you!
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 6:55
Love this! Of course I spent my teen years drunk on rye and coke at many cabarets while wearing a bunnyhug.
It’s the money that is the hardest thing for me. I like our colourful monopoly money. I’m all about loonies and the toonies. Although American money is much better at the strip clubs. Not that I know anything about that.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 7:18
take off, eh!
oh, how i wish i was going…me with my Maritime accent, you with your redneck pride, oot and aboot on the streets of Chicago.
do us proud, girl.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 8:19
We (the collective Americans) cannot wait to meet you and your girls.
Love,
Rachael
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 10:05
Killing myself laughing. You’ll be fine. I used to travel to the States a lot for work (before I spawned) and sometimes the cultural divide is much, much wider than you’d expect…
Prepare to be a curiousity. And to explain about (aboot?) Canucks a LOT. I still remember telling one chap in Annapolis, MD that no, in fact the entire country isn’t populated with leftist pinkos – he remains disbelieving to this day.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 12:08
SO funny. But they may just think you’re from Fargo.
When Micheal Moore released Bowling for Columbine is was living in California. I couldn’t figure out why all of these people were suddenly coming up to me and asking if we really left our doors unlocked in Canada, like, while we were in the house. “Of course eh. Why don’t you? We learn this trick called knocking first before trying the door handle. Part of that obsessive polite thing we’ve got going on.”
Take a small town Alberta girl and marry her off to a red blooded American man and sit back to discover just how wide that cultural divide actually is.
I’m starting to say trash instead of garbage now. I guess I’ve been down here too long.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 12:42
Poutine…no where down here can one get poutine, one reason Canada shall forever remain great. I have found perogies, but no gravy covered cheese curd fries.
pity.
Bring Wunderbars and I’ll be your personal American body guard. Wicked, eh?
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 13:21
Are you going on “holiday” or vacation ? I always tease my Canadian co-worker about that.
Aaah, wish I was going, I’m sure it would be a hoot to meet the Redneck Mommy in person!
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 15:31
HA HA HA HA… Thanks for clearing up the whole whippersnipper thing.. Have fun doen here in the States, and thanks for warning us that you are coming LOL!
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 19:08
From this Oklahoma redneck woman to all of ya’ll up north. It been fun a’readin yer comments. I nearly peed my britches a’readin laural dawn’s comment. I bet those folks on that there bus (god-love em all) just about died their second death. Well, reckon I’ll get along. see yall later,mater.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 19:16
My first love had dual citizenship, so I got the best of both worlds, methinks (except he didn’t feel the same aboot me).
I can’t wait to meet you, T. I will be representing for us Yankee Rednecks.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 19:40
dude, I’LL show you some America.
Wednesday, 18 July, 2007 at 21:11
Welcome oh interesting neighbor from above. Don’t forget your Rush and Bryan Adams cassette tapes and your back bacon so you don’t feel too homesick.
Have fun in Chi-town.
Thursday, 19 July, 2007 at 1:32
You WILL be fine. Have a great time!!!!
Thursday, 19 July, 2007 at 10:35
In one of my past lives I wrote definitions for Canadianism in the OED. Oh yes! I was a word nerd, eh?
Have fun in Chicago. It is such a beautiful city. Kinda looks like Gotham and has a blues heart. Ah, envy!
Thursday, 19 July, 2007 at 11:25
Dang! All those great words. Kerfluffies. Can we get a blogger Canadian-English dictionary going? I wish I could be there at BlogHer this year to mingle with the Canucks
Oh, well. Next year.