So, I was in Canada this past weekend. When you get down to it, I think we’re really fortunate to have the nicest neighbors in the world.

What am I basing that declaration on?

A) When entering Canada, telling the border patrol man that I’m simply going to a baseball game works for him. Whereas when returning to my own country no explanation of why I want to get into the states is immune from scrutiny.
B) Canadians are unbelievably friendly and incredibly excited about the upcoming movie “Snakes on A Plane.”
C) Hot D***a has won a “Canadian Web Award.”
D) During the seventh inning stretch, professional stretchers actually lead you in a stretching routine.
E) I have no way to prove this but when you order a 20 ounce draught at the rotisserie chicken restaurant “Suisse Chalet,” I’m almost certain you get 24 ounces. That’s right, I have reason to believe 20 ounces Canadian is equal to 24 ounces American. I’m around cups all day, people. I know what I’m talking about.

In other news, our soda fountain produced smoke and fire yesterday and now it doesn’t produce anything at all. When Coca-Cola will come to fix it, nobody knows. Finally, I won’t be here next week. So, if you consider yourself my enemy, next week is a great time to come down and see what Hot D***a is all about.

Today I reflect upon a snack I used to eat in middle school while watching the Disney Afternoon.

It consisted of one PB Max bar (now extinct), a microwaveable stromboli (I don’t recall the brand), and an IBC Root Beer (the very same IBC product available at Hot D***a for $1).

(We also have other IBC products (Black Cherry, Diet Root Beer, and Cream Soda) at Hot D***a.)

Incidentally, here’s something sort of like an after-school-snack, only it involves exercise and happens after work (instead of after school). Come play pick-up ultimate frisbee, Mondays at 6:15, at Flag Staff Hill in Oakland. (Always delicious!)

It’s been a big week of movement. Physically speaking, that is. It’s a good thing I used to be employed as a caddy and a mover of fine furniture, among other things. It’s also a good thing I drive a minivan.

People LOVE the fact that I own a minivan, but they’d never want to own one themselves. Sometimes that’s exasperating, but most of the time I’m happy to help. Besides, if “people” knew the secret soccer moms across America and I share, well, let’s just say the old Windstar would have a MUCH higher blue book value.

What am I talking about? You’ll just have to purchase a minivan and join the club. We have a secret wave that we give when we pass each other on the highway. Just remember, NEVER give that wave when traveling below 55 miles per hour. You’ll ruin everything. I’ve said too much, but trust me, you have no idea what you’re missing.

Anyway, I have a friend who is in the process of moving from Sewickley to Pittsburgh, and I helped him transport everything he owns on two evenings this week. One of those evenings was last night. Independent of that move, I hauled a very large and heavy couch last night as well.

Then, this morning, I toted 500 cans of coke and 500 servings of pretzels from Restaurant Depot to Hot D***a for a Super Bowl shindig to be held this coming Wednesday. I’ll be doing some more work related heavy-lifting into the wee hours this morning. This, friends, is precisely why I can eat a frankfurter or five every day without reservation. You should try it and forget the diet!

Of course, if you can’t eat five I won’t hold it against you. Just as long as you realize that’s no excuse to pass up a visit to Hot D***a!

You all know my issues with caffeine, but that’s not what we’re talking about today.

What we’re talking about is that I was recently told Vanilla Coke no longer exists. I think that’s tragic. In place of Vanilla Coke you can now buy Black Cherry Vanilla Coke. At least it’s not DIET Black Cherry Vanilla Coke. That would be a REAL slap in the face.

I’m nearly in tears right now. That has nothing to do with Coca-Cola, though. I’m watching a recap of Mark Messier night right now. It’s emotional stuff for me. I haven’t sneezed all week.

An itchy nose means a fight. That’s what my grandmother tells me. Today my nose is itching. Wanna drop the gloves?

No, well, okay. The nose will just have to stop itching, then. Let me tell you about caffeine instead.

Last night, I was with a friend at a place called 61C in Squirrel Hill. It’s a coffee shop. I’m not a big coffee drinker, but I liked it there a lot.

So, lately, I’ve been a little embarrassed. You see, I’ve never been a picky eater. I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that I pride myself on being able to eat with anyone at anytime however they see fit. Recently, though, caffeine has become an issue for me. If I have a coke after 3 pm I can’t sleep a wink all night.

I don’t know what happened. It never used to be that way. I feel like my mom.

So, there I was at 61C, knowing that I have this problem. I ordered a fresh squeezed juice because I thought that would be safe. The very kind server had to tell me they were out of fruit.

From there, I had to check with her what beverages I could get without caffeine. I felt so ridiculous being one of those “picky restaurant people” and I told them so. Apparently, at a coffee shop you can get anything you want without caffeine. I never knew.

I had a cafe au lait. It was lovely. Those 61C servers thought my whole explanation was rather hysterical.

Have a “special need” when it comes to food? Come to Hot D***a, where we’ve always done our best to accomodate such things. There’s even an owner who, for the first time, can honestly say he understands.

Hey there everyone. How was your holiday weekend? Mine was an interesting one. Why, you ask? Well I moved this weekend for one, but that’s not what really made things unusual.

Yesterday I was at IKEA eating breakfast with a friend when a large praying mantis flew into my neck. You’d be surprised the impact one of those things can have. Subsequently I learned that it’s illegal to kill praying mantises, so I hope it didn’t die.

With our breakfast (coffee, eggs, bacon, potatoes and swedish pancakes for $1.99) there was no bacon, so we each got a free platter of Swedish meatballs and potatoes instead. Still, that entire breakfast experience isn’t what made my day unique.

On my way back from IKEA, I got a phone call indicating that the soda fountain in Hot D***a had ruptured and that our kitchen was flooded. So, I headed downtown to find my entry to the city entirely blocked by a parade. After circling downtown nearly entirely I finally gained access via Penn Avenue. I arrived at Hot D***a thirty minutes before the Cathedral planned on closing because of the holiday, and with two friends, started mopping and squeegeeing to clean up the mess. Thankfully, Bruce, who works for the Cathedral, had already shut off our water.

In the end, there was probably only about a 1/4 inch of water over the entire kitchen- enough to take a while to clean up, but not quite enough to be a bonafide disaster. Now I sit and wait for Coca-Cola to arrive “as soon as possible” to fix our fountain. In the meantime, I’m not holding my breath and you should consider trying a Jones Soda.

It’s officially spring time. I’m pretty stoked. Apparently, so are all of downtown’s aspiring thieves. Our tip jar was stolen on Monday. Pretty lame, eh? Then today a guy tried to steal a bottle of soda and totally played it off when I caught him. Then he bought some ice cream and tried to steal money from our new tip jar while it was being scooped. Pretty sketch. Other than that it’s been a great week. You should come and visit!

-Tim @ Hot D***a