Crouching Kelly, Hidden Soap

Kel, what the hell have you been up to?

I done gone to Canada! Noelle and I went to Montreal for the weekend. I'd forgotten what a strange city it is. It's seedy and confused. But also contains beauty and sweet people. And the food...

So first we passed though Burlington, VT, and got our dirty hippie groove on. Also, we checked out the local art scene:

And, like out of an Irving novel, a man walked a bear right by our table. Unfortunately, my clumsy, fat fingers got in the way. 

'Ello hippie man and hippie band and hippie vendors on Church Street!

Cheers, leapfrogging chillens!

Soon we were being interrogated at the border. Bonjour yourself, you sexy bitch you!

Quebec takes two things very seriously: hideous housing and a stance against any Footloose-like shenanigans.

Checking out the small print, my limited French leads me to believe that the forces of the universe and all the men of creation cannot stop the possibility of balloon knot explosion. Who knew Canada could be so scary? Fire in the hole!

Noelle looks so composed after several drinks.

Kelly: Montreal is known for its fur trade and prostitution.
Noelle: So its fur trade . . . and its fur trade.

You can tell how far into the bag I am when my eyes are barely open but I'm laughing like a hyena. Wheeee!

But no matter my condition, this bullshit is unacceptable. Honey, stick your ass cheeks back into your fucking pants already! We all know you have an ass. We have them too. Give the boys a little something to dream about, k?

Eat it, Canada! 

I thought this was a burrito joint, but Noelle says it's a hookah bar. Ha. We saw lots of hookahs walking the streets of Montreal.

Here's where we stayed.

 No,

We stayed at an apartment that had questionable art, including what appears to be a nipple above my pillow:

Some freaky shit drawn on the walls; sometimes strings of text written around an entire room. I did the same thing when I was five and drew a map so I could play weather girl. I think Mom was as impressed by my art as I was by this art. At least I didn't give the landlord, Sergio, a spanking for his shitty wall art. Ahem. (Kidding, Mom. Sheesh.)

Can we talk about this bathroom? Showering required kneeling. It was a game of Crouching Kelly, Hidden Soap.

 ***

Quick--does anyone have a bottle opener? Or a GIANT COCK?

Vieux Montreal is vieux and pretty

And this quiche Lorraine was better than receiving a pony for Christmas.

I feel itchy. Do you feel itchy? Noelle?

Ben Franklin used to hang here. As Noelle put it, "He got around." 

Mmm, enjoy that clean Canadian air! Must be all the trees!

Promising and dodgy!

Okay, let's slow it down. It was hot as fuck, well, everywhere this past week. While Noelle is a salt gal, she indulged my sweet tooth by suggesting we go to a chocolate bar to escape into air conditioning. Let me repeat that: CHOCOLATE BAR. This, my friends, is dark chocolate with port, warmed, then topped with a scoop of raspberry sherbert. I had an orgasm right there at the table while Noelle calmly plotted our next move.

I don't see myself EVER buying these crackers. Partly because of the shitty drawing, partly because the word "pungent" is a red flag to me. I think this box was done by the same artist who did our apartment.

An excellent decision--sangria streetside. Good convo too.

Vicky! Word!

At McGill. I like him.

Ha ha. Couch tard! But old-school with extra letters, like candy shoppe! Whatever, the fucking owl gets it.

Yeah, I walked through this. I fucking hate people, but it was still beautiful.

I sincerely feel this guy's pain. When I was seven, someone did a caricature of me on water skiis. They drew three lines and a bubble coming out of my butt to denote action. Yeah, Cafe Bistro Toot action, maybe.

You have not had a breakfast as good as this one. I promise you. I don't care where you've been. It's just not as good. It might have something to do with the incredible amount of salt involved. No matter. I would marry this breakfast.

Shit, check out that giant cock!

So the locals were all "What staircases?" and "What do you mean Montreal is known for its winding staircases?" Okay, you may be an adorable young man working in a CHOCOLATE BAR, but we need to have a talk. Because Montreal is known for its winding staircases. Noelle seriously indulged my hunt. 

CHOCOLATE BAR guy probably doesn't know that Montreal is also known for its pesky derby hat situation.

Ciao

Guys and Dolls

As is now custom on the 4th of July, I headed to Maine to hang with the Jennessesssessess et al. Sam and Leah are soon retiring their lives as hipsters in Brooklyn and headed west to Seattle. And while I'm sad that two of my pals are no longer going to be one death-defying Fung Wah trip away, I'm gonna wait until they're juuuust settled in Seattle and then pounce. Me and about 783 of their other friends.

For you out-of-towners, this is the sign oft-quoted during any sarcastic situation in Maine:

And Maine is a beautiful state. But the view is repetitive. I've nodded off many times driving on 95. Fortunately, kPod and my masterful singing voice got me to exit 63.

Dan and Matt hang lakeside. Matt, love, I just met you, but you're the most adorable thing. My crush officially began when you started singing a modified version of Safety Dance. Danny, I think you've met your match.

Justin teaches Leah how one relieves oneself in Asia. Aw, just kidding. Good luck in China, Justin. I respect what you're doing; I am too much of a selfish bitch to go without things like flush toilets, forks, and democracy. 

In the typical fashion of a rock star, I was only able to make a one-day appearance. Because, seriously, after the bottles of prosecco are empty, girl's gotta make an Irish goodbye and head for the nearest dirt road out of town.

The ride home through Maine looked something like this:

Don't hit the moose!

***

On Sunday, my cousin Bethany got married in downtown Newburyport. She ran a little late for the ceremony, and the menfolk made conversation with the JP and . . .

Wait! Who brought on the class?

It's not even a bottle! What is she marrying into?? Incidentally, the JP didn't allow for any objections during the ceremony. He also brought out the koozie. I smell a cheap beer conspiracy.

Bethany was seriously glowing. She looked like a little doll. Beautiful.

Michael, she's all yours, guy. Be good to her. Or we'll kick your ass.

I can't believe they managed to get all the nieces and nephews to sit still long enough for a picture. Holy shit.

Bethany, with her dad looking on. 

With sisters Erin and Nicole, riiiight before they picked her up and tried to toss her in the air. Having spent a lot of time with them growing up, I had a momentary childhood terror flashback.

The view of downtown Newburyport from the honeymoon suite. Nicole and I went to gather up her things and ended up chillin on the sweet deck, drinking a beer and laughing. Wouldn't you? Aaaand we were caught by the newlyweds. Yup, classy.