The Road to Recovery

By. Amy Ozols

Since the dawn of alcohol, man has been plagued by hangovers. Given that medical professionals have pondered the problem for centuries, it’s ironic that I—a person who is not a doctor and, indeed, is barely even a dentist—have finally discovered a solution. And yet it’s true.

The best and most obvious way to avoid a hangover is not to drink at all, but I think we can all agree that this is not an option. Let’s move on.

When you wake up feeling unpleasant after a night of revelry, the most important thing to remember is that God is punishing you for having fun. In order to cure your hangover, you must therefore attend church as quickly as possible. During the service, pray for hydration. When the collection plate is passed, remove seven dollars and use it to purchase aspirin.

On your way home from church, stop at the grocery store and buy all the leafy vegetables you can carry. Under no circumstances should you eat the vegetables, as they contain dangerous amounts of butt-blasting fibre. Instead, affix them to your head. Laughter is a type of medicine, so try to laugh at yourself. This shouldn’t be difficult, because you’re wearing a hat made of salad. Seriously, look in the mirror. You look like an asshole.

Now you’re ready to have a cocktail. You may think that drinking more alcohol will be counterproductive in your situation, but you’re wrong. That’s why you’re sitting there with a hangover, whereas I sit poised on the brink of a prestigious correspondence degree in veterinary dentistry. A dirty Martini is your best cocktail option, as olives contain healing fats and high levels of sodium, which will replenish your store of electrolytes. Electrolytes are essential for good health, and are not unlike stock options or African-American Presidents in that you can never have too many.

Time to go jogging. Studies show that exercise generates powerful endorphins, diminishing feelings of weakness and nausea and replacing them with similar but subtly higher-quality feelings of weakness and nausea. While you’re running, think about the reasons you got so drunk last night. Your life’s pretty messed up, isn’t it? Yes. Run faster.

After you’ve worked out, you’ll have the emotional clarity to quit your job, divorce your spouse, reconnect with your boyfriend or girlfriend from high school, and adopt a pet. This sounds like a daunting set of tasks, but keep in mind that it’s hard to stay hungover when you’re busy applying for unemployment and housebreaking a bull-dog, to say nothing of enjoying the unbridled awkwardness of “reunion intercourse.”

At long last, it’s time for another cocktail. This should cure your hangover once and for all, leaving you with a calming sensation of insobriety and joylessness. If you wake up tomorrow with another hangover, don’t be alarmed. I’ve discovered a cure, and I’ll be happy to tell you about it when the time comes. Until then, take two aspirin you bought with the money you stole from a church, and call me in the morning.

Cheers.

Day 10: Harvard

This day by far was the best day in Boston, and probably one of the best days from this vacation. Why was it so great? Because I got to see my dream school, Harvard. Harvard really needs no introduction, #1 undergraduate school in the world, 60+ billion dollars in endowments, best faculty in the world and getting a degree from there almost guarantees a stable income for your whole life.

On this day, we actually wanted to visit MIT and Harvard but because of unfortunate circumstances MIT was cut off the to-do list. Once we arrived at Harvard we went to an information session where a guy from the Harvard Board of Admissions gave us a lot of tips about applying to Harvard, what they are looking for, what we should expect, etc. It was a really really informative session and I’m not going to tell you anything about it :)

After the information session we were put into groups and assigned a tour guide and commenced our tour of the campus. Enough words, picture time.

This is the Kodak (I think that was the company) Building. Supposedly it’s built with the intention to resemble a camera. It also the mathematics and science building. The building has 10 or so floors and it is said that the higher up you go on the floors, the tougher the classes get. Our tour guide only made it to floor #3.

This building is the Harvard Church or at least one would think so. This building is actually the main dining hall at Harvard. It’s really quite impressive. Oh and speaking of food, I think I’ll describe the food system at Harvard. Basically, Harvard has every type of food that you can think of. And in the rare case that they don’t have what you want, you can go up to a chef and he’ll make whatever you want. Oh and of course, all for free. Here’s the dining hall.

Another big part of life at Harvard is the housing system. There are 12 houses and there is major competition amongst them. When you introduce yourself at Harvard, if you’re a student there, you first say your house name, your name, and finally what you are currently studying. Oh and each house has it’s own gym, mini-restaurant, library and some even have movie theaters, squash courts, tennis courts and lots of other goodies.. You can’t see very well from this picture, but the red buildings in the back are the freshman dorms.

And finally here is a picture of the famous statue at Harvard. I have no idea why he’s important, but it’s okay because the students at Harvard also don’t know why he’s important. No one really knows.

That’s all from Harvard. Doing my Undergrad at Harvard is out of the question because I was an idiot and just about threw away all my chances at getting into there. Hopefully 4 years from now I’ll be going to Harvard for Law school but only time will tell.

Days 7,8 and 9: A lot of nothing

August 7^th was our last full day in Montreal. On this day we decided to go visit some museums. We only ended up going to one: the Fine Arts Museum. It was interesting for the most part. This museum is split into two buildings each with it’s own unique style of paintings (for some reason there are no pictures from this day….). The first building that we visited was the modern art building. Holding true to the theme, the building had a futuristic look to it. I wasn’t particularly impressed with the art inside but I’m sure many other people really like it. The second building held all of the older art. I found this to be much more interesting, especially the Napoleon themed room that they had. After we left the museum we went for dinner and did some shopping. Nothing else from this day. Here is a completely irrelevant picture from this day.

August 8^th, this was the day that we left for Boston. I don’t think very highly of this day, everything was a disaster, Boston was a disaster. But first, an expertly taken picture of Fenway Park from the air.

Now, back to my complaining. Firstly, the flight from Montreal to Boston was by far the worst I’ve ever been on. The taxi driver in Boston was all over the road. The hotel was a joke, disaster, unacceptable, and just plain terrible (But I wont get into details). The only good thing from this day that I remember was the CLASSY 12 oz steak I had for dinner.

Random picture #2

August 9^th, on this day we got a very unique tour of Boston. We took the “Trolly of the doomed”. Basically, we visited 3 graveyards in Boston and learned about the most famous criminals in Boston history. There’s nothing else worth mentioning from this day.

Our tour guide.

Tour guide once again.

That’s all for today. Bye.

The End

So... today was my last full day in New York, and also the last full day of my vacation. Tomorrow at 3:30 pm we have a flight from LaGuardia airport to Toronto airport and then a connecting flight to YVR... yay.... In case you guys were wondering, and I'm sure you didn't really care but, I haven't given up on the whole blogging thing (at least I haven't given up on it yet). I just got tired of waiting 45 minutes for 5 pictures to load on hotel internet. I'll finish writing about my trip when I get back home and I wont leave out any days or important events (well actually I may leave out some stuff but you guys wont even know what was left out because you weren't here with me!). Anyways, bye.

Perhaps I will upload a few pictures. If anyone can tell me in what city, in the US, these totem polls rest I will be impressed beyond belief.

By the way, 2 months without McDonalds. You should all be very proud of me.

Anyways, bye.

THE TEMPERATURE OF HELL: A COLLOQUIUM

by Ian Frazier

According to the best scientific data currently available, both the average and the mean temperatures of Hell have risen 3.8 degrees since 1955. Although an increase of this size may seem insignificant, especially to those not spending eternity there, the reality of the situation is quite different when experienced in concrete terms. For example, occupants of Hell who in 1955 were standing night and day in boiling pitch up to their knees report that, owing to the expansion of pitch at higher temperatures, they now must endure the torment all the way up to mid-thigh, or even higher, during Hell’s warmer seasons. Condemned souls who have to lie on their backs chained to a flat rock while a white-hot sheet of iron is lowered to within inches of their faces have stated that the rise in Hell’s ambient temperature now makes the iron seem much closer to their faces than it actually is.

Former Vice-President Al Gore, who was among the first to raise concerns about this problem, convened an interdisciplinary gathering in December of 2008 to discuss some of Hell’s climate issues and how we might begin to address them. To encourage the widest possible range of views, Mr. Gore invited a mixture of climate experts, satanic functionaries, representatives of industry, people from the faith community, average citizens, advocates for the aged, and a large number of the souls of the damned who are dealing with these changes on a daily basis. Owing to travel restrictions on some of the participants, the convocation took place deep in a smoldering, sulfurous Hell-mouth below a subbasement in the Sony Building. The following is an edited transcript:

MR. GORE: Thank you all for coming today—is that rotten-egg smell bothering anybody? We’re working on getting some fans to ventilate that out of here—and I’d like to start right in with a question for those of you who have temporarily ascended from the innermost bowels of Hades. You know what it’s like down there, while many of us still don’t. First off, I think we’d all like to know: how hot is it?

MR. MAGUS: Thank you, Mr. Gore, for convening this distinguished assembly, and I’m honored you invited me. My name is Simon Magus and I am, or was, a Samaritan sorcerer of the first century consigned to everlasting perdition for the sin of simony, the selling of church offices or preferments (a sin, for what it’s worth, named after me). I’ve been in Hell for going on two millennia now, and, to be honest with you, I haven’t noticed that much of a difference. I’m told it’s hotter lately, and I guess I’ll take your word for it. But where I am, down in the Third Chasm, it’s incredible. I mean, flames fall on our bare feet constantly, the rock our bodies are stuck in is practically on fire—it’s Hell, basically, so it’s very, very hot already. I just worry that we might be making a big deal out of nothing here.

MS. BIELUSKA: Can I respond to that?

MR. GORE: Please, go ahead.

MS. BIELUSKA: Mr. Gore, I am the shade of Amber Catherine Bieluska, of Lakewood, Ohio, and I would like to disagree strongly with the statement that has just been made. I am in Hell for a lot of minor things, the biggest one being that I never paid the sixties band that played at my third wedding, and I’m supposed to be enduring only mild agony in First Circle Plus, which is as high in Hell as you can go, and my own personal suffering and atonement have got so much worse just in the past few years. Where I’m at, it’s always been more stuffy than really hot hot, but recently it’s become so damp and humid, and, with the incoming spirit traffic and all the particle pollution from that, I feel my own punishment, which was totally unfair to begin with, has been made much more horrible through no fault of my own.

MR. GORE: Thank you, Ms. Bieluska and Mr. Magus, and we’ll be coming back to you shortly, but now I’d like to turn to one of the country’s leading authorities on terrestrial and infernal climates, Dr. James Hansen, of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies. Dr. Hansen, tell us, are we “making a big deal out of nothing”?

DR. HANSEN: Thank you, Mr. Vice-President, and I extend greetings to all you folks, former folks, and Satan-serving fiends who have taken the time to attend this vitally important event. I wish I could say we were making too much of Hell’s growing problems, but I’m afraid the news in that area is very grim indeed. As you may know, more human beings now occupy our planet than have occupied it at any other time in all of history or prehistory—some six and a half billion souls, and counting—and when these people die, as they’re all going to do, we can anticipate that all but .0001 per cent of them will not be going to Heaven. Granted, a lot of these will stop at Purgatory, but the rest will descend directly to Hell. We expect that the sudden influx of souls will put a huge strain on Hell’s carrying capacity and make large regions of it virtually uninhabitable.

Now, we are accustomed to thinking of the basic affliction of Hell as the burning brimstone—and, yes, brimstone is a significant part of the package, with its horrible odor and disgusting yellow color and the way it sticks to the skin and so on. But brimstone is essentially just sulfur, a rather expensive commodity when compared with, say, coal. And the fact is that owing to cost considerations low-grade soft coal—so-called “dirty coal”—is currently providing more than ninety-three per cent of the energy for the fires of Hell. At the rate of growth we’re seeing now, consumption of that amount of coal for all eternity is simply unsustainable. As you know, I have recently been involved in an international committee looking into Hell’s long-term energy picture, and we have recommended that Hell convert as soon as possible from a coal-based soul-scourging system to one that relies on clean-burning, plentiful, and inexpensive natural gas. Now, I am aware that this idea has not been popular among the dark powers and principalities, but—(Here the tape of the proceedings is interrupted by blasts of deafening static from the electromagnetic emanations of the demons, tempters, subtempters, satyrs, and gargoyles who begin to burst through interstices in the Hell-mouth’s crusted floor, flying redly past the speaker’s dais and among the participants looking on from folding chairs. An unholy discord and din, with howling and gnashing of teeth untranscribable. Now a molten whirlpool appears and advances gurgling until it reaches Mr. Gore and sucks him from view.)

“Hello? Hello? . . . Is this thing on? . . . Hello, this is Al Gore, and I’m fine, my pant cuffs are singed and the bottoms of my shoes are smoking a little, but I want to emphasize that I am O.K. I am going to continue to talk into this lavalier microphone clipped to my shirt collar in the hope that those of you up top can still hear me. What has happened is that I seem to have slid down a chute type of deal into the vestibule of Hell itself. It’s uncomfortably warm here, no question about that, and there are big red neon signs saying ‘You Are in Hell—Get Used to It!,’ and now I see a robed spirit figure walking toward me and—hey, wait a minute! Is that . . . is that Mickey Mantle?”

“Welcome to Hell, Mr. Vice-President, and, yes, you are correct, I am the spiritual remnant of what used to be Mickey Mantle—baseball legend and executive. I have been consigned to this place not for anything I did on the diamond but for some of my off-the-field antics, as detailed in such books as ‘Ball Four,’ by Jim Bouton, and Billy Martin’s ‘Number 1.’ If those books had not been written, my sins probably would have escaped notice—but, hey, I’m not complaining. So far I’ve been enjoying my assignment as Hell’s official greeter, and I’d love to take you on a look around. May I?”

“Lead away, Mick!”

“All right, Mr. Vice-President—watch your head as we go down this hot-lava staircase here, and over on your zzzt left you can see the zzzt where teachers who were zzzt mean to zzzt in elementary schzzzt must suffer zzzt zzzt zzzzzzzzzzzt . . .”

(At this point, Mr. Gore descended beyond the coverage area and began to break up. The colloquium adjourned for a ninety-minute lunch, after which the transcript resumes.)

SATAN HIMSELF: Could everybody please take their seats? Surrender your souls to me and worship and obey me? Thank you. I’m told that Sony will need this space back by 5 P.M., and there’s still a lot left on the agenda, so we have to move along. Some of you might not recognize me without the big cape and the collar that goes all the way up to my horns, and my tail is tucked into my right pant leg, but I’m Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Abaddon, Baal, Old Nick, Mr. Blackburn, Randi Weingarten, or whatever name I’m being given these days. Mr. Gore has thoughtfully suggested that while he’s finishing his tour I rise from my foul throne at the absolute lowest depths of perfidy and corruption to address you about the troubling situation we’re facing in Hell today.

Right now in Hell we are hurting. That’s the single most important take-away I would like you to get from what I have to say to you this afternoon: we are hurting. Hell is being pressed to and beyond its limits to such an extent that we are having trouble simply performing our jobs. Every day, I must make hard choices from among an inadequate supply of options. People in the land of the living are constantly requesting that this or that other person “rot in Hell,” and we’ve always tried to accommodate that, and as a result we have literally tens of billions of individuals—tier after tier after tier of them—sitting there rotting, and we have had to put in new tiers and still they are all over the place. And is anybody besides us giving any thought to maintenance? To the necessary monitoring of the rot? To staffing? I’m a detail-oriented type, I’m actually in the details, and recently that’s been where I’m falling down, and it’s hurting my most important attribute, which is my pride. I like my helper devils to have the best titanium pitchforks, and that’s been impossible for us under current conditions, so they’ve been having to just sort of poke the wretched sinners with their long and pointy fingernails. That’s only one example.

Because of ongoing constraints, I am sorry to say, the operation of Hell is no longer even close to what it should be, and important areas of quality are being degraded. I hate with my most ancient and implacable hatred of all that is good to have to say this, but unfortunately it’s true. So, for me, the whole increase-in-temperature thing, while important, is pretty far down on my list of concerns. I can stand at the exact center of the sun, temperature twenty-eight million degrees Fahrenheit, and it’s like a summer breeze to me. Far as I’m concerned, warming is not the problem; it’s the over-all decline in Hell’s capabilities. Right now, with the resources we’re being given, we are not punishing souls for their specific transgressions anymore, we’re just warehousing them. And that’s a shame.

So when you look at your kids asleep in their beds after you return to your homes this evening, I want you to ask yourselves, “What kind of Hell am I leaving for them, and for my grandchildren?” Once we’ve all thought about that, maybe we can set aside personal concerns and begin to act in the larger interest of Hell. But now I am being informed that my time is up. Do you know who you’re talking to? Do you have any idea who you are talking to? May I do my demonic laugh before I go? ♦

Day 6: Playing tourist

This day was dedicated to seeing the sights on the Montreal Island. We had a light breakfast (Pizza, fries and Ice tea!) and then headed off to catch the 2 p.m. double decker bus tour of Montreal. We arrived at the tour bus’s office at around 2:15 but we were lucky, the bus was running late.

There isn’t really much else to say. Pictures will tell the story.

This here is one of the 100 or so churches in Montreal.

This building is located in the old part of Montreal but I don’t remember why it was important…..

This is also in the old part of Montreal. Taking 1 hour tours of the city with horses is quite popular.

This is Rue Jacque-Cartier. There are many nice restaurants here and it’s very lively at night. Regularly, you can find someone playing music there or someone putting on a show of some sort.

This is the Montreal Science Center I believe. I’ll double check later.

This is Montreal’s port. Home to drug dealers and Mafia's from around the world!

Some interesting apartments on the other side of the river.

This picture I don’t find interesting but there is a little side note attached to it. In Montreal whenever a building is built, the contractors must put aside 1% of the cost of the building to create a work of art. An good idea I think.

The top of this church is the highest point in Montreal. It’s name escapes me. I really need to pay more attention to these things.

Olympic Stadium. Looks great. If only we had built something like that for our olympics.

Well about 1 hour into the tour we hit the top of Mont Real. What did I see there? Aside from the great view of Montreal? I saw that a downpour was heading towards us and I was stuck on the top of the bus with no umbrella, jacket or anyway to protect myself from the rain. Yay. The story ends well though. We made it back to the city before the rain hit us.

Well I’d write more but the plane I’m on is about to land. Bye!

Day Five: University

Alright so I’ll admit. I’ve slacked a bit, I’ll try to rededicate myself to this blog. Anyways… Day five was dedicated to one thing and one thing only. Touring McGill University.

So I’ve seen Berkeley, UBC, SFU, Stanford, University of Toronto and out of all of these I must say that McGill is by far the nicest university out of all of them. (Not to mention it was #12 school in the world in 2007!). The campus is gorgeous and the fact that it’s located in the middle of the city is really really nice. I was slacking on this day when it came to taking pictures so these will have to do. They’re not great but you can get the idea… (on a side note, our tour guide went to South Ridge three years ago. He was pretty cool, very helpful too.)

Mr. McGill himself.

The gate the lead into McGill’s downtown campus. (Their actual name escapes me)

And now for some random pictures.

Well that’s all for day five. We spent all day at McGill so nothing else to show you guys.

A Guide to Summer Sun Protection

Well seeing as it is currently summer time and everyone is outside having fun in the sun and tanning all day long *cough* Katie *cough* I thought that this was a fitting article concerning sunscreen. Read it well, it could very well add many years onto your life or even save your life!

By Zev Borow

SPF creep has hit the triple digits with Neutrogena’s SPF 100+ sunblock, leading some dermatologists to complain that this is merely a numbers game that confuses consumers.

—The Times.

SPF 4—You’re joking, right? This is some kind of joke? 4? We make this stuff for armadillos. Or maybe you’re one of those “adrenaline junkies” looking for another freakish way to court death. Seriously, people, the sun is deadly. It’s a giant ball of fire, literally, and it will kill you . . . if you let it.

SPF 12—Great for practical jokes, if your idea of funny is making someone think they are protected from the sun’s seriously fucking powerful and harmful rays when they’re actually not. Bonus: Comes with an “I AM, OR ONE DAY WILL BE, A DANGEROUSLY NEGLECTFUL PARENT” visor.

SPF 30—Perfect for driving all night through a rainstorm.

SPF 50—Acceptable for most summer daytime use if applied correctly, which is to say, ingested orally via four separate SPF “sunshakes,” two in the morning and two after lunch, each made with three parts sunblock lotion to two parts heavy cream. Tip: Another tasty option is our “SPF-egg-white omelette.” No carbs!

SPF 75—Slathering oneself in a good SPF 75 says something to the world. It says, “I don’t mind spending a little extra if it means doing what’s right.” And “Clearly the health of my skin is more important to me than the health of your skin is to you, and, while that is sad, all I can do is lead, because I am a leader.”

SPF 100—This is to SPF 99 and below as excellent heroin is to Capri Sun juice boxes. If you haven’t already, ask yourself: Are you gonna run with the big dogs? Or stay on the porch with the pups?

SPF 125—Remember the first time you were allowed into an airport first-class lounge? Or experienced oral sex? Add using SPF 125 sunscreen to the list of experiences that you will never forget.

SPF 150—Nothing will make you feel as safe and protected and confident and prepared. Because SPF 150 does something more powerful than just protect you from the sun a hundred times better than the ridiculous, flimsy, paper-thin skin God gave you. SPF 150 actually repels the fear and anxiety and vulnerability and paralyzing paralysis that affects so many of us each and every time we walk outside during daylight hours. It’s patented, and made in Norway, by Norwegians. So say it out loud: The rest of your life starts now.

SPF 175—Ever wanted to have unprotected sex with a prostitute in Haiti? Don’t answer. Doesn’t matter. The point is with SPF 175 that’s now an option.

SPF 200—The truth is, most people are never going to need the level of protection this lotion provides. Recently indicted? Not a problem. Being hunted by a pack of rogue genetically mutated polar bears? Have a sandwich. Take a nap. Seriously, make yourself a sandwich, then go take a nap, because there is nothing out there that you have to worry about ever again. The nightmare is over.

SPF 233—Close your eyes. Good. Now imagine a world without poverty and disease, where children of all races and religions join hands and sing old Negro spirituals, a place where the vicious cycles of boom and bust are replaced by never-ending Wonder Wheels of boom . . . and boom.

SPF 233 is not inexpensive. But, in the war against the evil that is the sun, can you put a price on freedom?

Day Four: La Belle Province

Today we arrived in Montreal. I’ve been wanting to come to Montreal for quite a few years so this is very exciting for me. Anyways, we had an early flight again this morning. We had to wake up at 6 am, not quite as bad as the 3 am wake up time when going to Toronto but still no fun. Only one thing of interest happened in the airport. I was sitting at our gate (Gate 120!) and there was a girl sitting in front of me and she was sleeping. She must have been around 12 years old. She’s calmly sleep and all of a sudden she wakes up and yells “MONTREAL!” I wish I had caught it on tape, it was hilarious.

The flight from Toronto to Montreal was great. Why was it great? It was great because it was short. It only took about 45 minutes to get to Montreal. As you can see, the external fuel tank of this plane was not covered in red tape. That made the flight much more enjoyable too

Alright, so now we’re in Montreal but fairly far from downtown Montreal. Of course we go to find a taxi, and we found one. Had we known what was awaiting us, we wouldn’t have chosen this particular taxi. From the airport to the Westin Hotel in downtown Montreal, our taxi driver changed lanes roughly 40-50 times and not once did he check his blind spot, look in his mirrors or even use his signal. I would have taken a picture of him changing lanes but I was too concerned with my safety to turn on the camera.

We arrived at the hotel at around 12 pm but our check in was scheduled for 3 pm so we had to kill some time. We went to the hotel restaurant (which was ridiculously overpriced) and then we headed out into historic part of the city which was right behind our hotel. We went down to the water which was really nice and then stopped at the Notre Dame Basilica of Montreal. This place really impressed me. I’ve been to the Vatican, Saint Paul Cathedral and New Westminster Abbey and I must say that this place is up there with those three in terms of beauty. Perhaps it’s not the biggest, but a lot of great things are stuffed in it. Enough writing, here are pictures.

Yeah so then we went exploring a bit more in the historic part of the city which was great. Montreal is by far my favorite Canadian city, simple because it reminds me of Europe. I caught myself a few times yesterday asking if we were still in Canada. It’s just great.

More happened yesterday but I’m too tired right now to type it all up. Just ask me in person if it really interests you (which I doubt it does, but one can always dream…).

Ciao.

To Basia

Happy Birthday Basia! #17.

(See I didn't forget! I never forget! :P )

Day Three: Too Much Walking…

As you may have guessed from the title, today consisted of too much walking for my liking. We did two things today: visited the University of Toronto and the CN tower. Of course, because everything is just so close together in downtown Toronto, we decided to walk to both of these places.

I didn’t want to go visit University of Toronto because I have no intention of applying there but my parents wanted to go so naturally I followed them there. You can clearly see how happy I was to be there…

It actually turned out to not be as bad as I thought. The campus is really nice and it’s basically in downtown Toronto which is really convenient. The only problem is that it’s the biggest campus in all of Canada (Yes even bigger than UBC) so there was a lot of walking involved. I think we walked for 2-3 hours and we only covered 3/5 of the campus.

After we visited the campus we decided that we were hungry, so we did what any north American would do in that situation. We went to get hot dogs! These hot dogs are incredibly healthy and have no fat in them…. You guys believe me, right?!

After our healthy meal we decided to go visit the CN tower. I was really excited for this but also a bit nervous. Heights and I don’t go very well together. Once I was at the top of the tower I had no problems, but going up the tower was a bit more difficult. I had to sum up all of my courage just to walk into the elevator. Just so you can get an idea of how high up we were, here’s a picture from the glass floor part of the tower.

After we visited the glass floor we went on the balcony. I’ve always wanted to experience a hurricane, this may be the closest I’ll ever get to hurricane force winds.

As a little side story. When I was around 6 years old we went to Seattle to visit the Space Needle. It was a very windy day and when we went on the balcony the wind picked me up off the ground and had my mom not been holding me, I’d have flown out of the tower! (Well... honestly there is a fence that keeps kids from flying out of the tower but I like my version of the story better.)

Lastly, when we came down from the tower I made a new friend. He’s the perfect friend. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t ramble on, doesn’t argue, and actually doesn’t even move or talk. Nevertheless, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had!

Off to Montreal now.