After living there for five weeks last summer, I can say with all honesty that I'm not the biggest fan of Montreal. I must admit though, it does have a certain charm, like a mostly harmless homeless man who smells distinctly of excrement but whose intoxicated ramblings are highly entertaining.
It is summer, I and my new-found disposable income are restless. À Montréal, mes amis!
A road trip and some poutine are exactly what we need. Things might be tough, but how can you be sad when you just saw a tourist step in horse shit or trip over cobblestones.
Let's hoist our 750ml cans of depanneur Export and toast not Montreal, nor life, nor anything but ourselves and nothing, nobody else, because sometimes a little selfish frivolity isn't absolutely deserved but is exactly what we need. So meet me on Ste. Catherine and let's celebrate our own vulgar existence. As far as I'm concerned, Montreal - the city where optimism went to die, is the perfect place to do it.
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6 comments:
You never say nice things about my intoxicated ramblings.
The lime green hurts my eyes.
yeah.
this site is as ugly as Nick's butt.
Too bad. I like it.
My blog that is, not Nick's butt.
oh vive le depanneur...
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