“Canadians, do not vomit on me!”

“I stared. "Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?”

“It's possible this whole "Why do Latinos love Morrisey?" question will haunt us forever. Fortunately, Canadian academics are on the case.”

“The best part about vomiting is that right after you do, you can continue eating.”

“He's a Canadian. I've not much more to say about him." "Isn't he a tall, fit, strapping fellow? A handsome guy, a good-looker with fair hair down to his shoulders?" "Yes," Camille said wairly. "How do you know that as well." "All Canadians are like that. Isn't that so?”

“It's kind of spooky sometimes,' a Canadian lawyer said to me one day. 'There you are, in the Kim Do Hotel, it's ninety-three degrees outside, and it's April eighth, and you're listening to a Vietnamese cover version of Jingle Bells.”