Like a lot of people from Dope City I have never spent any time with people from fucking Quebec. Today I met my first two. Did some drinking with them. The motherfuckers kept up.
The guy was a loud, no bullshit man. Fuck this, fuck that, you know what I mean. The sort of man I have been drawn to my whole life. Collects old shit like motorcycles. Spoke pretty fair English. Farms maple syrup.
His wife could understand English but not speak it. That was ok because her old man talked enough for both of them. She laughed a lot and had the kindest eyes.
Today was not just another day for me. It was one of those days, one of those days I seem to be having more and more, when I was damn fucking proud to be a Canadian.
Motherfuck American Thanksgiving. Bring on the Coupe de Grey.
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