Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Show Me Your Beaver: A Personal Story
When I was growing up, my folks took me and my three siblings to Niagara Falls, on the Canadian side, once or twice a year. It was only 4 hours or so away and a weekend vacation that we enjoyed every time.
Being young, we loved wandering through the different gift shops, touching and trying out all the souveniers, knick-knacks, and other jank tchotchkes. I remember one time, probably when I was about ten, we were walking up and down Clifton Hill trying to find a museum or something and we stepped into one of those souvenir shops.
As my parents were asking directions, my eyes scanned the walls, covered in colorful T-shirts and lit upon one in particular.
A caricature of a woman in a skirt, big grin on her face as the skirt was raised and a smiling, buck-toothed beaver emerged from between her legs. The caption read "If you're Canadian, then show me your beaver."
It was at that exact moment, in a small, chintzy souvenir shop on Clifton Hill in Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada, that I suddenly understood the slang term "beaver." Jerry Mathers never looked the same again.
Labels:
personal bits,
sex
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1 comment:
Oh my god. That's hilarious!
I'm reminded of the story of my brother on a fishing trip to Canada. He's from Southern Indiana and has the telltale twang.
He walked up to a girl and asked if she knew where he could get some ass.
He was actually looking for ice, but that damned accent......almost got his face slapped.
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