Albertans in this area seem to be a pretty stoic bunch. Not too much will phase them, they handle most daily occurrences with a great deal of equanimity, and not just because it's too cold to raise an eyebrow. I have personally witnessed an Albertan, almost certainly by accident, hit a deer with their vehicle, pull over, drag the carcass off the road, field dress it, load it, kick the dents out of the fender, and drive off in a spray of gravel, blood and fur.
I ran over a Mourning Dove on my first day behind the wheel of my Mom's 1971 Impala and I was a wreck for a week.
Nope, there certainly doesn't seem to be much that will get a rise out of them, but I have been doing extensive research in this area and I have found a chink in the flannel of the Albertan armour. Simply suggest they could make do with a smaller house next to which to park their big, silly truck; a smaller garage in which to park their big, silly truck; imply they might seem less intimidating if they didn't have fakey testicles dangling from the hitch on their big silly truck; giggle at the "scary" flames doodled along the sides of their big, silly truck; or challenge their right to park their big, silly truck perpendicular to the sidewalks by parking parallel, right next to their big, silly truck.
Or insist, despite steely looks and clenched, stubbled Albertan jaws, on referring to it unwaveringly as "a big, silly truck."
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| Not in the picture: Incredibly small genitals. |
