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Cracked.

This post is going to be a little random sounding because it’s my mood today.

I went on a little road trip over the weekend and made a discovery. I am technically inadmissible to Canada. This is due to a check that bounced in 1991. The check was for $16.42. Since it went to a court, I am a criminal and therefore inadmissible to Canada, so says the customs folks at the Ogdensburg-Prescott crossing. Since they’re there, it’s obvious that they have nothing better to do. However, since it has been over 10 years since I committed this horrible crime, I am considered rehabilitated and therefore allowed to enter. If I do it again, I shall never be allowed to eat anything maple, eat poutine or say ‘eh’ for the rest of my visit on this planet.

God bless America!

Whilst on said road trip, the likes of which I may write about someday, Mother Nature flung a rock at me. Actually, she had one of her minions do it and I now have a nice southwest to northeast crack across the bottom of the windshield! Yay full glass coverage!

You’re in good hands with Allstate.

In the past five days I have been challenged regarding my affiliation with my lifetime partner: the bored people at Ogdensburg-Prescott wanted to know why his name is on the Jeep (DMV only allows one) and Allstate wanted to know why two names were on the policy. In both instances I was tempted to tell them that we like to get it on, but that would cheapen both the experiences of that sort and the life we have together so I simply replied with the standard “we’re partners”.

Yay for being a second class citizen!

I somehow think my being pulled into immigration had to do with the fact that my name isn’t on the car registration (though it is on the insurance policy) and for that I’d like to thank all the folks who vote down marriage equality. Because after all, marriage should be reserved for only those that are able to reproduce.

It’s a shame that no one told my 75+ year old grandfather that when he remarried. I know he was happy, shame the marriage purists technically didn’t want him to be.

Jimbo (he’s on the blog roll to your left) mentioned that a Golden Globes commentator didn’t like the guy from Dexter’s big red beard. For that I shall grow mine even larger.

Yay for being the only ginger of this generation in my family!

2 Comments

  1. Always having to explain ourselves, aren’t we? Nothing is straight forward, nothing is easy. It sucks. And lucky for you, I’m in love with gingers.

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