I'm checking out your moped, not you, dork!

Yep.  As I told some of you via text message, guys ride mopeds up here unironically.

I'm all for going green, but please don't act like you're cool by hunching over on a mini motorcycle with your messenger bag slung across your chest. Please. The look is just not sexy.  I don't know where you're getting the idea that it is.

But then, maybe I just have different taste, being from the exotic land of Upstate New York.

Moving on.

I saw the groundhog today.  I bought birdseed for him at Canadian Tire, but he didn't eat it.  (I looked online later and learned that they like vegetables and fruit.  They have been known to climb trees in pursuit of apples and pears.  So now you know.)  I also bought a voodoo doll from a vending machine there for Christina. 

Canadian Tire is, in Olivia's words, un magasin pour les hommes.  It's what you would get if Sears, Dick's, and Carhart had a baby and raised it in the Quebec wilderness.  There's all kinds of stuff there- tools, hockey gear, kitchen appliances, toilets, bait... I ended up going there twice because the first time I got caught up in the hunt for souvenirs to send back to you all that I forgot the birdseed that I went there in search of.

I also went to Loblaws again to buy my first bag of milk.  Rachel, Olivia, and Olivia's friend Gabrielle were there when I came back.  I was so excited to try it!  They thought my reaction was funny.  To them, bags of milk are a pretty normal thing.  Gabrielle pointed out that the bags "sont plus practique, non?" compared to cartons, and I guess that makes sense.  They're probably better for the environment, you can freeze the extra ones you buy (at least that's what I did.  I don't know if you're actually supposed to do that), and you can show off your nifty milk pitcher whenever you have someone over for cereal. 

I actually put my milk in an enormous Quebec-sized decanter, because it was cheaper than the pitcher and could hold more.

My roommates' classes start tomorrow.  It's probably a good thing, too.  Orientation got a bit crazy.  Olivia came home early from the party last night because she got ketchup in her hair and got really grossed out by it.  But this did not happen accidnetally.  The psych students covered themselves in condiments as part of the festivities.  (Maybe they do that to get a glimpse inside the heads of their future clients.  That's my best guess, anyway.)  Other majors had nerf wars, drove around campus shouting at passerby with bullhorns, or did, as I saw for the first time this afternoon, relay-type activities dressed as wizards.

So that's that.