Oh Canada.

Oh Canada,

I used to love you. I used to REALLY, REALLY, REALLY love you. You were always far superior to our southern neighbours, what with their y'alls, and George Bush, and consistent track record for voting against gay marriage. Other than the wretched cold, you had poutine, and errr... I'm not sure why I used to love Canada. After all, we are the birthplace of Celine Dion and Pamela Anderson.

Oh, now I remember: I used to love Canada because it WASN'T the United States. And that's cause for celebration any day of the week.

But then earlier this week, I had a rude wake up call when I saw this:

 WHAAAAA??? And I had a hissy fit conniption. Now, my beloved homeland is  the country that willingly, and publicly gives the goddamn fucking olympic torch to LEAH MILLER.

Leah Fucking Miller. The most hideous, fakest person on the goddamn planet. And who has to be a freaking witch because somehow she got one of the most talented men in the world to marry her. I love Dallas Green, I really do. I adore him, his voice brings me to tears. But sometimes I have to wonder whether he needs stronger glasses because he wakes up to her botched plastic surgery fake face every morning. Yeuch.

Anyway... Canada gave Leah Miller the olympic torch. And welcomed photographers to take pictures to commemorate the event. AS IF IT WAS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF. WTF? Leah Miller is the ugly cousin that you want to brick into the living room wall. She is the ugly family member who you NEVER talk about because to talk about her is to give life to the monstrosity that is her! But no, the country I live in not only continues to employ her on TV channels (thus ensuring years and years of therapy for our young population), but used her as a proud representative of our country. She ran around in her ugg boots and I prayed she fell down and died as ghost horses trampled her.

But to no avail.

Oh Canada. I used to love you.

Now I desperately need to move.