How to Deal With Stress in Los Angeles or Canada

Pathetic? Maybe. Lazy? Sure. Awkward around women? Put me at the top of the list.

These are all rationalizations for my lack of dating experience in Los Angeles.

Canada was just so much easier to find women of my caliber. Similar sensibilities perhaps, or attitudes, just a different style than L.A. I guess I still don’t get the women here. I just hope they eventually get me.

Speaking of which…

After two years of mimsying around, I finally got a bonified date! It’s a blind date, my first blind date, so I’m not quite sure how to go about this business, but I must say I’m a little giddy. What will she look like? Does she know how to deal with stress. Does she get her omega 3 benefits? Will she be smart, funny? Right now all I know about her is she’s half Japanese, half Chinese, and shares my birthday.

When talking about how to deal with stress, I don’t think Canadians are the best source of information. We’re not a very stressful people. We live in the cold, though we don’t feel the need to rush through life to keep us warm. And we’ve got a lot of wide open space, but we don’t have the anguish to fill it all up. Some might say Canadians are downright boring, but really it’s just because we’re so relaxed with the way we are. Maybe the great north is the best antioxidant a body could get.

Now about Canadian girls. Generally I like them, though I must admit I’m more partial to the American brand (the one’s that aren’t fatties, take no offense please). I believe Canadian girls are generally healthy, but the American girls are the ones who obsess over vegetarian diets and protein alternatives, and organic whole foods, and vitamins and nutrients and exercise. Sometimes, American girls go to far, which we call anorexia, but that’s for another post.

There’s a few canadian girl celebrities right now. Ellen Page and Rachel McAdams are both Canucks. But I like Rachel McAdams as a more exemplary Canadian, she’s got a little more hearth about her.

Anyway, I’m no expert, I have neither a Canadian girlfriend, nor an American one. But I’m working on it, I’m working on it. And I’m in L.A. so how hard could it be? I’ll just tell people I’m a producer or something.

    I’m a Canadian. A rogue Canadian living in L.A. There’s many Canadian Angelinos. We can spot each other from a block away, through the aneroxic cocaine weasel stooges, the paparazzi, the faux police and the too-young-to-be-homeless style hippies. We don’t where flannel, but we look like we could at any moment if someone pushed us too far.

     “Excuse me,” says a plastified mother at the automated checkout line of a Whole Food Market, “Could you hold my fennel while I water my child.”

    I don’t know exactly what she means, but I just want to turn around and say, “I’ll hold your fennel, if you hold my pocket knife while I put on my flannel.” Yeah, just watch me boldlerize fashion like it’s going out of style.