The One With An Ode To Zak's Diner

Wearing Ottawa across my heart.

In the past three days, I've written something like 10,023 words for two research papers, one on Kateri Tekakwitha and the other on Canada's response to Jews in World War Two. I really hope my prof isn't feeling too patriotic when she grades the latter one...Sorry, Canada, I do love you really. But only letting 5000 Jews into Canada throughout the whole of the Second World War, seriously? You had so much space you could have done so much good with!

Library sign fills me with rage.

Apart from discovering that Canada's historical closest is full of Jewish-shaped skeletons, contemporary Canada has a serious issue with stationery. Back in Exeter, Didcot - anywhere I go in England, I am able to own a decent hole punch and stapler, no problem. Not too big that you can't cart it around, but not too small that you can punch or staple anything without shattering your wrist in the process. I've been in Canada for over ten weeks now, and I am still yet to find a normal, simple hole punch. I've looked in every stationery aisle of every single store in Ottawa and Toronto, and I have only found a store selling hole punchers once - and it sold $50 industrial ones. What's more, I can't tell you the sheer number of Canadians I've asked for help in my quest for stationery, who just don't get what I'm on about. I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that normal-sized holed punchers just have not reached Canada yet. Don't even get me started on staplers. I bought this crappy small thing which doesn't know how to staple and probably couldn't attach thin sheets of paper together if its (inanimate) life depended on it. Yes, moving to another country was always going to throw up different ways of doing things, but stationery? Isn't stationery a universal need? CANADA: WHERE THE HECK IS YOUR NORMAL SIZED, FUNCTIONING STATIONERY?

I've got a chip on my shoulder.

As for Canadian wall tack...well, it's flipping well useless. Other useless Canadian things include my shoes bought less than a month ago from the Giant Tiger Store which have disintergrated and left me walking around campus with toes peeping out the front of the shoe. It wouldn't have been so bad if my tights didn't have holes in the toes. Can you tell it's been research paper deadline week? (It's also been womb lining expulsion week, but I didn't want to gross out any of my male readers...damn, periods suck in Canada when you can't console yourself with Chocolate because Canadian Cadbury's tastes like cardboard).

My doodles.

Shopping in general has been weird this week. The over-friendly guy in Mac's thinks I'm from Switzerland, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't convince him otherwise. Meanwhile, the univeristy bookstore is playing Christmas music. This would be wonderful if it wasn't a collection of dodgy covers. But, I am now proudly flaunting my "school spirit" in a uOttawa hoody. Represent. I am also displaying the remnants of a black eye after being hit in the face with an iPad. Yes, my iPad means I need an eyePatch. Punilicious. Word of advice: don't balance an iPad on your tits, it's not a stable surface, and when it falls, it hits you really hard in the face.

Sam's doodles.

Two Canadian friends in particular have been absolute gems this week. The first in Michael the autistic library worker who can't lie and knows a lot about geography. I will too by the end of the year. Also, he knows that I always go for the same seat and usually at the same time, and  he says he'll save it for me. Whilst this is brilliant, (I'm quite territorial over library seats), it does mean that I now have to go to the library each and every Saturday for fear of upsetting Michael. Then, in Jewish Canadian Writers, Sam and I had a doodle-off. I totes won.

Feminst Prof Anderson is officially my hero. Not only did she describe Chinese religions by comparing them to different times of underwear - Daoism is boxers, Confucionism is corsets - but she also had a massive rant about why should she have to do the housework in preparation for her in-laws descending on her house? To quote: "I have a PhD, why do I have to vacuum?"

And Zak's, oh Zak's Diner. Here is my love song to you.

An Ode to Zak's Diner

Zak, of Zak, I love you so,

Just how much, you will never know.

Your soda on tap fills me with delight,

And your 24-hour opening means I never have to fight

My hunger pangs, and cravings for a burger.

Speaking of which, a Banquet Speical I could murder.

The water without asking is brought with a smile,

I tip you without fail for your service goes the extra mile.

You cater to my every need,

Your only desire is to feed

Me and my friends, you think our Britishness is quaint.

Quick - bring me a deep fried Mars Bar, I'm feeling quite faint!

From your burgers and sauces and well-seasoned fries,

The complentary buble gum is a delightful surprise.

Oh Zak, what will I do without you, I do not know.

I guess, Canada, Zak, I'll just never go.

Copyright Sleek HB Pencil.

Blog post dedicated to Charlotte Knipe.