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About Quebec City

Weird story – once found a freaky tape in the glovebox, not mine, some grainy footage of a chick smokin in a parkin lot. Spooked me good – “What’s hidden stays hidden,” Haneke vibes all over it. Prolly some punk’s prank, but still, gave me chills. Escort’s got quirks, tho – gas gauge lies like a bastard, stranded me twice, screamin at it like a nutjob. Still, cheap parts, easy fixes, kept my wallet happy. Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” – best damn car for a broke dental tech, beats walkin, that’s for sure!

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Man, the parks here are wild – Crown Park’s a spot where tree limbs whisper mischief, and you might catch my rants on how nature gives its own deep-tissue massage to your soul. I sometimes get mad at the city’s tiny potholes (ugh, seriously, who designs these?) but then I wander through Ogden Park near Glebe Avenue and all the grumpiness just melts away. And oh, the waves crashing at the Oak Bay Beach! – they remind me of a wild chorus from “Moulin Rouge!” – "Am I not a woman? Am I not a woman?!" or, errr, more like, "I live to please, my friend."

Teen who lost family in B.C.'s Lapu Lapu Festival tragedy helps other victims