As a former Utahn transplanted to the Midwest, I’d like to take a moment to warn you non-Utahns about this pretty little state I used to call home and the one Loralee currently resides in.

(By the way, my name is Casey, I call a little blog moosh in indy. my home, hi, how are you?)

First of all, don’t let all the snow fool you. Utah is a desert. Utah is a desert that will suck your skin of any and all moisture it possesses within moments of your arrival. Bring lotion and slather liberally.

Second. Salt Lake is very high in altitude. This means two things. Less oxygen and you’re closer to the sun. Which means you will huff and puff up every flight of stairs no matter how fast you can run a mile at sea level and you will burn to a crisp much quicker. Bring a bottle of water and sunscreen, drink and slather liberally.

Third. There is an enormous lake thataway. It’s called the Great Salt Lake. It’s really salty. Don’t go in it after you have shaved and be aware that when conditions are just right there is something called “Lake Stink.” And trust me, it’s a whole new kind of stink.

Fourth. Want to move here? Just know it’s really bloody expensive. The house I grew up in was bought in 1981 for $40K. It sold in 1998 for $189K. Today? $500K. Ridiculous.

Fifth. Drivers. Utah drivers are stupid, idiotic, psychotic, insane, aggressive, rude, impolite and most of them drive large overpriced SUV’s. Driving in Utah is not for the faint of heart. Be prepared to honk and flip off liberally. Seriously, before I come I have to spend an entire day readying myself for the death derby on Utah’s roads.

Sixth. If you eat outside in Utah, especially a sandwich, it will be turned to toast in a matter of moments. Dry air + soft bread = See dry skin reference in numero uno.

Lastly. Utah is pretty. Both in people and surroundings.

Forbes names Salt Lake City the vainest city in the nation. No doubt. Plastic surgery billboards are everywhere. Everywhere. And it’s just not fair to the rest of the country how pretty Utah is. (Well, the top and bottom of Utah at least, I’ve still never learned to embrace that whole sagebrush thing going on in the middle.) So be prepared for pretty, but don’t look too long or that soccer mom in the Escalade with run. you. over.

Thank you for taking time to learn about this state from someone who knows best. A native. And if you could let me know about any other states crazy drivers I should watch out for I’d appreciate it. But I doubt anyone has worse drivers than Utah. Seriously.

Good news though? Lots of pretty things to look at in your sideview mirrors while the PTA president on her cell phone in the Lexus SUV is chewing you out.

Well, hello there. My name is Angella and I. Am. Canadian.

Maybe I should greet you in my native tongue.

Hello, eh?

Loralee guest posted for me in February while I ditched my kids sent my kids to visit their grandparents so that my Honey and I could spend a week laying on the beach in Mexico. Without kids. It was awful. Really.

Loralee’s post chronicled why she wants to make babies with Canada. Thinking about the great Canadian/American divide, I reflected on the differences between the two countries.

As a child growing up in Canada, I knew a whole lot about the US of A. Most of the television shows and commercials we watched were all from America. We did not watch much Canadian TV because, well, it sucked. We were so inundated with everything American, I felt like we were the same as those south of the border, with only minor differences. This is not the case.

The first reality check was when we went to Disneyland when I was in grade nine. We met some other kids by the pool at our hotel and when we told them that we were Canadian, they had all sorts of questions for us. “

Do your policeman really ride on horses?” (NO. Except for parades.)

“Have you ever heard of Nintendo?” (DUDE. I could kick your arse at Mario Bros.)

Do you guys live in an igloo?” (Oh, of course. We eat whale meat as a snack. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?)

I thought that we had just met some kids who may or may have not been hit with a Stupid Stick when they were born, and figured I should not take it too personally.

Fast forward to college, where we had American students who liked to wear t-shirts from In-N-Out Burger. I asked them, “What the heck is In-N-Out?” To which they replied, “What the heck is Tim Hortons?” Touche.

These folks were not ignorant about Canadian life, but had opened my eyes to the fact that there were different restaurants, chain stores, and maybe even culture ideals between the two countries. T

The majority of my blogging friends are American. I love them immensely (Including Loralee, obviously). I joined Twitter almost a year ago and have realized more and more the differences between our two countries. Americans have Target. I LOVE Target! They also have B&H Photo. I LOVE B&H photo! Neither chain is here in Canada and I weep over this daily. I kept hearing a lot of twitters about something called Trader Joe’s. I finally peeped up and asked what it was. It sounds AWESOME.

I was feeling like there was a whole lot of fun that Canada was missing out on! We had nothing to offer but great comedians, white tundra, and vast open spaces.

But then!

One night someone (I forget who. I have three kids. Memory is, um, a distant memory.) tweeted about eating Smarties. Most of my American friends had never even heard of Smarties. Well, what are called Smarties in the States are called Rockets here in Canada. Totally different candy. Our Smarties are chocolate with a candy coating. Like M&M’s, but a hundred times better.

After pursuing this further, it turns out that us Canadians have amazing treatss that Americans clamour for! Aero bars! Coffee Crisp! Purdy’s Hedgegogs! Ketchup Chips! I did a little giveaway and the response was overwhelming. It made me feel like Canada might actually have something to contribute to those south of the border. Like the little engine that could (eat chocolate).

I would love to hear:

a) Something else truly American that I am missing out on, but should check out while at BlogHer in July (See you there?) and

b) Something else you may or may not like about Canada. We’re the people North of you. Look up. Look waaayyy up.

*Rick Mercer (Canadian comedian) did a series on interviews he did with Americans about Canada. Apparently those California kids I met were not the only ones who did not know anything about us neighbours to the North. Here is one which includes a question answered by George W. Bush. The series is funny, I think, because it just proves that us Canadians don’t really rank as high in the States as we think we do.

I haven’t known Loralee very long. Well, technically, I don’t know her at all. I have never groped her inappropriately nor have I ever had the chance to say something stupid and wish the ground would open up and swallow me immediately.

But in the bloggy world, we’re tight. Two peas in a pod. She’s my homey. 

It was love at first read. It was like finding my doppelganger, only taller, smarter, prettier and with bigger boobs.

I marveled over how much we have in common. We both use coke religiously. Er, that sounds bad. Let me rephrase. We both share a passion for the fizz. She’s all about Diet Coke and I’m all about Coca Cola Classic. So there is a slight difference of about a bazillion calories. It’s all made at the same place. Good enough for me.

We both like to sing. However, people pay good coin to go and listen to her croon while they tend to plug their ears and look for sharp objects to throw at me when I open my mouth to trill.

I’m a hit at the karoake bars, I tell ya. A real treat.

We both like to try new and exciting things. She jumps out of airplanes and pretends she has wings while I like to watch videos of people jumping out of airplanes.  Hey, it’s just as exhilarating. Really.

She has a horny cat named Wilbur who is the neighborhood slut. I have a dog named Nixon who is the neighborhood bitch. As in all the other dogs come over to laugh at him when he squats to pee like a little girl.

Loralee has a hidden drawer filled with leather whips, lubricants and handcuffs. I’m too much of a prude for any of that, but I like to snoop through her stuff for educational purposes.

Wink, wink.

She has big brilliant blue eyes that remind people of the ocean or a perfect summer day. I have rather unremarkable green eyes. A 14 year old boy I was once crushing on told me I had cow eyes. As in they bugged out like a cow’s. 

And then he teased me about being flat as a board and went to go ask out a girl with really big boobs and pretty blue eyes. I’m not bitter. Not at all.

And both Loralee and myself lost our little boys.

So ya, we’ve bonded.

Loralee is a girl who can make me seem sane and well adjusted. For that there is a special place in my heart reserved just for her.

Because when my husband thinks I’m some whacked out nut job and wonders why the hell he shackled himself to the likes of me, I can quickly point out that I’m not the only nutter out there. Loralee is just like me. Only nuttier.

And then I generally tell him to suck it up buttercup, because if I hadn’t come along he probably would have married his cousin. 

After all, he does come from a long line of cousin lovers. 

Heh.

Loralee and me, two peas in a pod. 

I’ve got your back girl. I just can’t wait to accidentally brush up against it.

If you know what I mean. Wink, wink.

…and I have a feeling that this post will end with a whimper. Loralee decided to subject you all to my prose. She thought “My God! That Heather B. will be witty and funny and full of good cheer.” Which on a good day, like a Saturday, this would be true since I like to discuss pooping rainbows and sitting on bright clouds with daffodils. I’ve also been known to have stars come out of my rear end because I’m just so damn happy to be alive and breathing fresh air. There’s even a song bursting from my heart every single day.

Instead she has left you with a person who would much rather drop a copy of Anna Karenina on someone’s big toe and really, what is with all of this sharing of oxygen with the general public? Also, unicorns aren’t real, I’m not a big fan of puppies or kittens for that matter. And the only thing bursting from my heart on this (actually quite lovely) day is a chorus of profanities that would make Samuel Lee Jackson cringe.

Meanwhile you all are shocked and incredulous saying “Well, I declare!” that Loralee would leave her blog in the hands of such a disgruntle person. I’m sure she will apologize and send you all cases of diet coke and fresh baked sugar cookies upon her return. She will pet your head and whisper sweet nothings into your respective ears. “Don’t worry” shell say, “The mean, mean lady will not return ever again. Shhh. There, there.” Then you’ll ask that she checks your closets, under your beds and in your browser cache to make sure that I never, ever return. I understand. Really I do.

So when Loralee returns you will show her your undying love and appreciation. It’s like when your mother goes away and you’re all happy and everything but she leaves you with the crappy babysitter who swears and drinks a lot of vodka. And then you cry because you’d rather have the nice babysitter who will play Uno with you 987 times and listen to Hannah Montana on repeat because she cares. But that nice babysitter won’t come until tomorrow and then for the rest of the week and so for now you must suffer.

When Loralee gets back. Love on her. Email her. Leave her funny comments and tell her how god damn happy you are to bask in her presence once again. And if she asks me to guest post for her ever again, I’ll remind her of this day. Then she’ll offer me a lifetime supply of Grey Goose and well, you’ll have to suffer again.

I am so sorry.

Hello, stealthy ninja friend Karen here.

I’ve been instructed to inform all you looney folks that Lo has left for her wonderful & eagerly anticipated family reunion with her mother. She is a happy girl.

Since I have her blog right now, along with the coveted password, I’m going to share the delightful texts we’ve exchanged so far.

I’m waitin at the DMV. What joy. Hope your trip is not as long as this!

Lo: Oh the humanity! My trip has just begun. ug. We can both feel each others pain!

Me: Good times, like fer shur! haha. I just channeled a valley grl.

Lo: Yea well my mother just freaking pulled over off the highway because she has a stupid potato ship stuck in her teeth! I want to die.

Me: LMAO

Lo:

Lo: OMG. I just walked into the mens bathroom! I was distracted by the frustration of helping my mom open the trunk and a guy was urinating in the urinals! Ack! Help me.

Me: I hope you marched right over and told him 2 watch the splash. It’s a bitch to clean. And seriously… this could only happen 2 u. haha

Lo: It was so scarring. It makes he whole “I’m a fifteen year old hiding in the bathroom at lagoon because I realized my boyfriend has a boner!” pale in comparison!

p.s. Loralee’s blog is a bitch to post with… this is the 3rd attempt!