Tag Archives: humor

Canadian Rhapsody ~ Read a guest blog by @nchardenet

Please welcome American turned Canadian, author Nicole Chardenet. I asked her to write about her experience of becoming a Canadian citizen, then I braced myself. You see, Nicole was interviewed in my author series last year, and her answers had me in stitches, as does her post here.

She pokes fun at everyone, and I mean, EVERYONE—Republicans, Canadians, the Irish, and more … so please … pour yourself a vodka or a beer and enjoy the musings of this very funny lady.

* * * *


~by Nicole Chardenet

Nicole Chardenet Pravda

Nicole at Pravda Vodka House, Toronto

When Canadians ask me why I moved from the US to Canada nine years ago, I tell them, “Better beer.”

If they’re Republicans I tell them, “Better healthcare and all the damn socialism.”

And then I tell them what we do all day is smoke pot and have gay sex.  I love messing with Republicans! They’re so naïve.

“Why would you move to Canada from the US?” asked one early Canadian friend. “I’d move there in a heartbeat if I could, that’s where all the money is!”

Well, yeah, back in 2005 that might have been true…but nine years later I’m making a lot more money than I was in Connecticut and I’ve moved up the food chain professionally. And, the US has gone to @#$% since I left.

Truth is, I can no longer remember anymore why I moved. All I can tell you is it seemed like a good idea at the time.

zombie best

Zombie American Tea Partier, Toronto Zombie Walk

While I watched the US banking system crash and burn like Charlie Sheen on a three-day coke bender, as I lived and worked in the country with the most stable banking system in the world (who knew?) it seemed one of the all-time greatest decisions ever made in the history of the world.

Now, when people ask me if I’ll ever go back I think, “Only if the US government outlaws the Republican Party and makes it legal for decent, intelligent Americans to feed them to rabid orcas.”

The whole thing really started when I read on a news site about a dozen years ago that Ireland wanted to become the Silicon Valley of Europe. They encouraged immigration by techies and investors, and since I was in a very bad place in my life personally, I decided to apply. Unfortunately, Ireland had extremely high standards for immigrants and also favoured EU members, so I never even filled out the application. My skills were too generalized for their high-and-mighty selves. I was so mad I didn’t speak to Ireland for years, until their whole economy went belly-up.

Mom, Dad & me

Nicole w/ her mom and dad at Centre Island, Toronto

Meanwhile, a longtime email friend near Toronto kept urging me to move here, enticing me with an offer to share his house if we split the bills. That sounded like an awesome deal, except for the part where I’d have to move to – Canada? Really? The True North strong and sleep-inducing? Whose flag was – what, I don’t know, a pot leaf or something? Whose history was – well, did they even have one? I mean, who knew anything about Canada? I’d visited relatives in Montreal when I was a kid but my buddy lived near Toronto. I’d been there once before, on a day trip with my family when I was in university. I remembered Toronto as clean, with a beer factory and decent-looking subsidized housing.

anniversary pic 3

Nicole’s 1st year anniversary in Canada

I scheduled a reconnaissance trip, then had to reschedule because of the SARS crisis. When I became reasonably certain Toronto wouldn’t kill me, I discovered I liked it. Around this time, things started to get ugly in US politics with the American invasion of Iraq and then later the Iraqi prison scandals, and I began to feel uncomfortably like I’d better get the hell out of Dodge before the Republicans passed a law herding all liberals, homos, and evolution supporters into Jesus camps where we’d be subjected to Mao-style “re-education” efforts, except with more crosses and bigger guns and hair.

Nicole - Day 1

At Fan Expo pushing her 1st book, Young Republican, Yuppie Princess, 2011

Long story short, I filled out an application longer than a Rob Ford police report as Canada wanted to know absolutely everything about me including every single address at which I’d lived, ever, some information about my ex even though I’d made it clear he would NOT be joining me, and, of course, the requisite four rolled-up Tim Horton’s cups to prove that I did intend to become a Real True Loyal Canadian. (Fortunately we had Tim’s in Connecticut).

After that I had to visit the police station to get fingerprinted so I could schlep my grubby mitts off to the FBI so they could run a check on me to make sure I wasn’t a terrorist, fugitive, international jewel thief or close personal friend of Robert Mugabe. Later, I had to visit a special Canadian-approved doctor to make sure I wasn’t trying to sneak any expensive diseases into the country. Then I crossed my fingers and fervently hoped that Canada had way lower standards than Ireland.
It did, and my temporary visa arrived a little under a year and a half later. I stuffed everything in a U-Haul and crossed the border, which wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as I’d thought it would be, as they praised me on the penmanship of the most anal-retentive list of personal goods they’d ever seen, and I think I scored some extra points for having a French name. They didn’t even ask about the sword I brought nor did they want to see proof that my cat’s rabies shots were up-to-date. (Which just goes to show you the Glenn Beck-head and Faux Newsie critics of Canada’s spongey border are right – any old terrorist can cross with a tetanus-laden rusty weapon and a foaming, frothing housepet anytime they want! Fear us, O Canada!)

Nicole - zombie drummer

We’re proud to have you as one of our own, Nicole!

Once I was officially over and stamped I heaved a sigh of relief. The Republicans couldn’t get me anymore and I was turning my life around.

It hasn’t been a complete bed of poppies, of course, but I can honestly say the last nine years of my life have been the most stress-free since I was pre-school.

Thank you Canada, for being so good to me. And for Nanaimo bars. Canada’s greatest gift to Western civilization!

* * * *

Connect to Nicole 

Tongue of Dog’s Breakfast Blog | Nicole’s Novels

Website | Twitter: @nchardenet | Facebook | Google+

* * * *

If you would like to be a guest blogger, please comment below and let me know. The goal is to highlight YOUR writing. Connect to me via any of my networks. Twitter and email are best.

While you’re at it, show Nicole some love in the comments, will ya? Isn’t she adorable? 

Many thanks, 

~ eden

* * * *


Filed under Eden's Guest Bloggers

Dude, Grow a Pair. Don’t Let Your Woman Pluck Your Nose Hair

I rarely take public transit any more since I work from home, but it’s uncanny that whenever I do, I see something bizarre.

Let me preface this post by saying I’m not a supporter of public grooming. I think it’s rude to brush your hair, put on make-up, or floss your teeth in front of perfect strangers, and yet, I’ve seen all of this. I usually look away, but last week I saw something that riveted me to the scene. Why? Because I couldn’t believe my eyes.

A thirty-something couple sat across from me in a subway car having a conversation. There was nothing remarkable about either one of them. Out of nowhere, I noticed the woman’s expression change as she stared at her boyfriend’s/husband’s face—she grimaced. I suspected he had said something inappropriate, and she was showing her disgust … but no. She raised her hand almost as if to slap him, but instead, she grabbed some invisible strand of hair hanging from inside his nose and tugged on it—hard!

The worst thing was—he let her do it.

Although he flinched and his head jerked back each time, he allowed her to pull at his nose hair with her bare hand. It was obvious she was determined to yank out that nasty strand at any cost. Five times, count them, FIVE TIMES she did this and FIVE TIMES he let her until she finally plucked it out, at which point, he let out a feeble “Ouch.” She then held the hair in front of him and showed him how long it was, dropped it on the floor, and chided him. For what? For having nose hairs?

I don’t know about you, but nobody, unless that person wants a punch in the face, gets anywhere close to plucking hair from my body unless he has my explicit permission to do so.

What struck me most was why this man allowed it to happen to him. Sure, he has an intimate relationship with this woman. You do many things with your significant other you wouldn’t do with anyone else. Yes, men are more into grooming nowadays—waxing, man-scaping, facial beauty products.

I get it.

But … dude … it’s still your body, your choice when you want to tug, pull, and pluck. I bet my life your girlfriend/wife would never allow you to yank hair from her head, let alone from inside her nostril. And certainly not in public!

What I really wanted to say to this guy was “Buddy, don’t let anyone do that to you. Have some pride for god’s sake. And while you’re at it—grow a pair. Passively allowing a woman to groom you in public is not only disgusting, it’s just not cool. Grow those balls before she sees them as just another hairy instrument to pluck.”



Filed under Revelations & Humor

Humor – For all Twitter Fans!

I love Twitter, but Kanye West takes it to new heights, and Josh Groban embellishes it farther with music!

Some late night humor from Jimmy Kimmel Live.

Stay sexy,



Filed under Revelations & Humor