Stampedeville

The men are insane. I’m just going to leave it at that.

The weather is amazing. I’m almost always wearing a lighter jacket than everyone else. When people say that it’s a different kind of cold, it’s true. Minus five here feels like plus seven in Victoria. And the sun is *always shining*. It looks like summer every day. No seasonal depressive disorder for me! Don’t get me wrong, I miss the green grass (it’s brown here) and the flowers in Victoria, but Vic can keep it’s effen gray skies and rain. It can keep those mother huge spiders too.

The wild rabbits here are creepy. They have legs longer than mine, a body like a small dog, and big bulgy goat eyes. Ew.

Also, there’s not a lot to do here. I mean, there’s shopping and theatres, but other than that… it’s pretty skimpy on fun. At home people go for walks. Who the heck wants to walk around here? I think that’s why so many people drink and do weird drugs. Most people smoke too.

There are no old cars from the seventies or even the eighties. They rust. My car would be an antique here.

There is recycling, but you have to drive to it. Ew. However, they don’t recycle plastic except for plastic milk jugs, which are refundable.

Ladies of Asian decent (politically correct enough?) mainly dye their hair red: either burgundy, orange, or red red.

There are hardly any Starbucks. This is the worst part. It’s sad. I’m trying to get over it, but it’s hard. Today I bussed for an hour and half to get to a Starbucks that has working internet. There’s only one plug in though.

*Side note, a middle age man just came into Starbucks wearing head to toe red and black plaid. He’s about six foot one and his pants are a tad too short. His shoes are brown clogs with a buckle and they click when he walks. Black socks. I just busted a couple at the neighbouring table laughing at him. I’m torn between sharing their sentiments and admiring his confidence.