Ah, another difference I should point out about the Canadians: They don't seem to care about celebrities. More specifically, celebrities constantly filming movies in their cities. Take this for example:
On Tuesday, a fellow Yahoo! employee took me to lunch. As we exited the building, he quickly steered me to the right, saying: "Ugh! We don't want to go that way -- they're filming a movie."
Clearly this was unacceptable.
I explained that we most certainly would not be going in the opposite direction; anyone who knows anything understands that I wouldn't consider it for a second. I convince the poor Canadian to ogle the scene playing out to the left of us: An actor in his mid-40s, on a bicycle, nearly getting run over by a so-called taxi.
When the scene ends, we walk by slowly and I crane my neck to get a glimpse of the actor in question. With his profile barely in view, I screech: "OMIGOD it's Willem Defoe!" (See the 2001 Emmys, fondly also known as "OMIGOD it's Matthew Perry!" Day.
Sadly, like "Matthew," 'twas not the Green Goblin, but, as my coworker discovered for me, merely a "Canadian actor" (his words, not mine) by the name of Peter Outerbridge, who really doesn't look all that much like Willem Defoe. Somehow "OMIGOD it's Peter Outerbridge!" doesn't have quite the same ring.
The previous time I was in town, I dragged our whole dinner party around the city on a fruitless search for Russell Crowe; next time I will surely make a more concerted effort to bunk at the hotels of the stars.
Those crazy Canadians, they don't know how good they have it!
On Tuesday, a fellow Yahoo! employee took me to lunch. As we exited the building, he quickly steered me to the right, saying: "Ugh! We don't want to go that way -- they're filming a movie."
Clearly this was unacceptable.
I explained that we most certainly would not be going in the opposite direction; anyone who knows anything understands that I wouldn't consider it for a second. I convince the poor Canadian to ogle the scene playing out to the left of us: An actor in his mid-40s, on a bicycle, nearly getting run over by a so-called taxi.
When the scene ends, we walk by slowly and I crane my neck to get a glimpse of the actor in question. With his profile barely in view, I screech: "OMIGOD it's Willem Defoe!" (See the 2001 Emmys, fondly also known as "OMIGOD it's Matthew Perry!" Day.
Sadly, like "Matthew," 'twas not the Green Goblin, but, as my coworker discovered for me, merely a "Canadian actor" (his words, not mine) by the name of Peter Outerbridge, who really doesn't look all that much like Willem Defoe. Somehow "OMIGOD it's Peter Outerbridge!" doesn't have quite the same ring.
The previous time I was in town, I dragged our whole dinner party around the city on a fruitless search for Russell Crowe; next time I will surely make a more concerted effort to bunk at the hotels of the stars.
Those crazy Canadians, they don't know how good they have it!
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