Confessions of a 'Canadian'

They call me 'The Canadian' at work. I'm starting to think that might not be such a bad thing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to hide from anything here. Like Lee Greenwood, I too am proud to be an American. Indeed, I relish the opportunity to break the Fox News stereotype...but at work, I'm fighting an uphill battle thanks to the other American. Oh, she's a liberal spirit to be sure, but so much more...and less.

She's 19, from San Diego, and can't pronounce the letter 'R'... This is not to suggest that the problem lies with any of these specific attributes, I only list them here in an effort to be appropriately descriptive. Verily, there is nothing inherently wrong with being 19...we've all been there. Nor do I have anything against San Diegans...we all know they stay classy. And by no means do I intend to imply any correlation between the pronunciation of 'R' and intelligent thought...that would be flat out ludacwis. No...I don't think any of those things really matter...but this perfect storm of an individual keeps coming up with absolute gems...my 3 favorite being as follows.

3. While discussing a movie, refers to plot as involving 'escaped convents.'

2. After noticing a toothpick in my mouth...
She: "Wow, you're quite the woodsman. That's so different than me. I'm very cosmotalitan."
Me: "Oh really...you're Cosmotalitan?"
She: "Yeah (slightly confused)...I'm cosmo...cosmo...yeah, cosmotalitan."

1. Upon encountering a group of staff... "Oh great! We're all conjugated here."


It's amusing for the first five minutes of an 6 hour shift.
After that...well, I'm ok being called the Canadian.