Welcome to Canada, where there's nothing to do but drink and be cold.

Leaving NYC

Oh, post 9-11 world, how I love you. I guess I should have known I wouldn't be lucky with airport security forever. When I got detained in a special line while my colleagues were waved through, I pondered; Will I get that suspicious blonde I just dealt with? Will I get a dude? Will it be an interrogation room? Can I even be sent to a dude? Ahhhhhhhh! So, there was that. To make a long story short, I wish there had been something remotely interesting in my luggage for them to find, a samurai sword, weapons of mass construction, anything... which brings me to this gem: 

Fat girls in mini skirts abound in St John's. I use the term skirt rather loosely, "belt" would be more appropriate. Given the amount of ass I saw tonight, I may as well have gone to a strip club. These girls walk, or waddle/slip in heels, clutching onto whoever's nearby, and the guys are in t-shirts or hoodies and sneakers. 


Mind you, I'm wearing not one but two parkas and a sweater, two pairs of pants and giant boots, and still wishing I was wearing more because that's how cold it is. I'm fine with being the weird girl from New York.