My Family does the Tim Ho's Drive-Thru

Every time I go through the Tim Horton’s drive thru with my father, he pulls up to the garbage can (before the “order here” box) and begins to place his order. Then we all laugh and yell “Daaaad, that’s the GARBAGE can!” And then my then my dad says “Ohh! Ha. Whoops, why do they make those things look so similar???” We finally make it to the ordering box and the conversation usually ends up in some variation of this:

Tim Horton’s Staff: Welcome to Tim Horton’s, can I take your order?
Dad: Uh, hi. I’d like a large bagel please.
THS: Sir, we don’t have large bagels. They only come in one size.
Dad: I’m pretty sure you had them the last time I was here.
THS: Sir, we’ve never had "large" bagels.
Dad: Oh, maybe I’m thinking about the small bagels then.
THS: We only have one size.
Dad: Okay, I’ll take one of those tiny bagels then.
THS: The bagels aren’t tiny sir, they’re a regular bagel size.
Dad: Ohhh I see. Could I have a timbit bagel then?
THS: We don’t have those sir. Only regular bagels.
Dad: I’m pretty sure you had them the last-
THS: Sir, we have timbit donuts. We do NOT have bagels timbits.
Dad: Well then what do you do with the middle of the bagel?
THS: I - I don’t know Sir.
Dad: Okay, okay. I’ll just have an extra small coffee please.

I will never get tired of this.

Nat Goes Flat

I have moved. I feel like I never really unpacked from my last adventure because I had a strong feeling that my next step would be somewhere that required luggage. Sure enough, I’ve been dropped in Saskatchewan in a wonderful (and tiny) little community. Major changes have come with this move, I am living on my own but this time in a considerably larger abode compared to Chateau Shoebox. Unlike C.S. though, my new place is unfurnished -- which I kind of like. The rooms are spacious. I can cartwheel just about everywhere. I officially now have a bed, a kitchen table (with chairs), a couch, and a filing cabinet.

I’ve also bought a car. This is my first vehicle unless you count "The Covered Wagon" in University (named that because it had all of the qualities of a covered wagon: no air conditioning, no radio, no power windows, and a family of pilgrims living in the back). I have the most adorable black Yaris hatchback named Yimmy (the picture in this post was taken while driving Yimmy).

Yims and I get along well. I drive and sing at the top of my lungs -- he waits patiently for me when I leave him outside of the Great Canadian Superstore for an hour (that store is AMAZING).

The weather here is not nearly as cold as I had thought, but it will get colder. Cars here come with a block heater and parking spaces all have little outlets to plug into on the “cold nights”. If you don’t plug your car in, the oil turns to Jell-O and your car will explode (or something like that). To brace for the winter, I even bought a jacket that definitely belongs to the parka family; maybe a first cousin to a full blown parka. I’ve always felt that if I wear anything that doesn’t explicitly define my waist, I might as well wear a refrigerator with a hole drilled in the top. My pride lost the battle and I now trudge along in what my mom refers to as a particularly “cute refrigerator”.

Finally, to my shock and horror, for my whole life I’ve been pronouncing “Saskatchewan” incorrectly. It’s not four syllables. It’s more like three and a half. It’s actually pronounced “Sask-at-chwin” not “Sask-atch-ooo-wan” like I’ve said it all my life… It reminds me of when I was in grade four and I unknowingly pronounced “Decimal” as “Destimal” for the whole year but my teacher never corrected me. Then I went into grade five and my new teacher thought I was retarded.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

"The Natterhorn: A Broad Abroad" in it's current state, is retiring. But, where one adventure chapter closes, another one opens. The new and not so improved (well, I resolve to start editing more rigorously but the passive voice will likely stay) shall be launched shortly. "The Natterhorn: Nat goes Flat"

A birthday poem for Nadia

Somewhere across the ocean,
My blue eyed friend is far away,
Making everyone around her smile
Even though today is HER birthday.

She comes from Poschiavo,
Among the fresh cheese and cow herds.
She sings along to Hebrew pop music,
Even pretends to know the words.

Swiss Italian, French-Canadian,
A real chameleon that way,
She waved at me 600 feet in the air,
And makes a kick-butt crème brulee. (it was actually Tiramisu, but that doesn't rhyme)

She’s fluent in French and Italian,
We needed her in Rome.
Her English is AMAZING,
Despite asking Yaron to “Ride her home”.

Nadia loves with all of her heart.
Has more care for the world than Bono,
She does everything with a passion for life,
Watch out, because sometimes she has mono.

Nadia is my partner in crime,
Swiping cookies and croissants for our snack.
Shocking the streets of Prague with our glasses,
We stole flowers, at night, from Pearl Du Lac.

She’s a colourful adventurer
And can make any garden grow.
But if you keep her up in the middle of the night
"... Monsieur, Tournez-VOUS!.. Ehn... Must sleep…Arghy... Meh.. BOH!!”

She’ll always be my life-long friend
She’s our sweet Italian cannoli,
The happiest birthday to someone truly deserving,
The one and only: Nadia Gianoli.

***please note that I have taken a certain liberty in assuming that Gianoli and Cannoli rhyme. If this is not true, I blame my online Italian rhyming dictionary.

Greece monkeys

More Greece pictures to come.

This is a real Greek salad.

Natalonious

Last weekend (yes, Im only getting around to writing about it now) Aaron and I met Kara in Athens. We arrived in Athens at 2:30 in the morning and decided the airport was too noisy to sleep in, so we took a bus to the center of town and slept on park benches outside of the parliament buildings. I actually fell asleep and dreamt, until I was woken up because the sprinkler system turned on. I had a brief moment of panic thinking “Where am I? Am I homeless?” Which ironically, I am homeless at the moment (I moved out of my apartment last week). We made our way to the Acropolis and watched the sunrise; it really wasn’t as magical as one might think (primarily because I was butt-tired and couldn’t find a coffee shop). We met up with Kara at the entrance to the Acropolis as it opened first thing in the morning which was brilliant because it was a bearable temperature. It was incredible to walk through the Acropolis and see the Parthenon, the Nike temple, and, uh, the other stuff (did you hear that? That was the collective sigh of all of my art and history teachers). As always, it’s really difficult to summarize the whole trip, so I’ll pick out some memorable moments.

We took a boat to the island of Hydra. It was an amazing place; everything is blue and white, and there are mules everywhere. We ate lunch beside the water, slept on the beach, drank “Freddicinos’, swam in the salt water, and didn’t get heat stroke. We took a tiny boat back to the other side of the island where an old Greek man looked at Kara and I and said something and laughed. I said “I don’t understand Greek” and the old woman beside him said “He said you look like lobsters without claws”; which I found hurtful, mostly because it reminded me of how much I wish I had claws. On the way back to Athens, the waters were really rough and it may have been the worst hour and a half of my life. I was one of probably 50 people who had to employ the use of the “Eurofast Sick bags” and kindly, Aaron slept (or pretended to sleep) through my whole episode of “Greek Salad Returneth”. It was pretty embarrassing but fortunately the crew member who was assigned to hand out barf bags in our aisle put his hand on my shoulder and said “It’s okay, this happens all the time.”…. Gross.

Greece really is everything I imagined. Kara and I decided that if we had to describe it in one word, it would be “Sweaty”. If we had two words to describe it, the next would be “Brunette” (It’s amazing how in such hot weather there’s just sea of brown heads. The heat of Greece also managed to reawaken the remnants of all of my misguided childhood perms but luckily, that made me fit in more into the Greek culture.) The third word would be “Magical”. I’m not sure why I’d ever be in a situation where I’d need to limit my adjectives like that, but it can be helpful to collect your thoughts sometimes. I will most certainly return to Greece one day.

Mom, Dad!! I'm on TEEVEE!

One of my favorite experiences so far happened this past week. I really immersed myself in the Montreux Jazz Festival. I managed to get myself there 4 times in one week. The first time was with Steph, who came and visited me and we checked out the town. I went the next night to see India Arie whom I LOVED. She’s an amazing woman and clearly sings from her heart and is led by God to do so. I was really inspired by her. Plus, she’s just entertaining. Some guy yelled out “I love you India” and she looks up and goes “How come I can’t get a man to say that when I’m not on stage?” I went Wednesday night with Heather to see Tori AMOS!! Who was absolutely amazing. After the concert I'm all crazy concert hyper and it's almost 1 am... As I'm leaving the stadium this camera crew is there and this woman pulls me over, puts a microphone in my face and starts talking to me in French. She paused as if it was my turn to talk and so I looked straight into the camera and put my hand at my mouth and whispered loudly into the camera "I speak English"... And I had a big retarded smile on my face. The camera crew started laughing and she says (in perfect English) "What did you think of the concert?" and I said "It was BEAUTIFUL, she was beautiful, the music was amazing; I really loved it." Heather who was with me, after the fact pointed out how funny (read: stupid) it was that I whispered "I speak English" instead of "I don't speak French".... AND then tonight I was watching Leman Blu (a local news station here) and during a segment called “REACTIONS: Tori Amos” I was on it! Thankfully my ethnocentric, deer-in-the-headlights prelude was edited out and I appear… well I won’t say “articulate” but if really could have been a lot worse.That's me!!!! Looking pretty tired at about one thirty am and we missed the 12:19 train, so we had to stay in Montreux until 2:00am on a wednesday. Fortunately, we ate my new favorite food: Merguez sausage.... Mary had a little lamb... And I ate it on a bun.

Happy Birthday Mel!

Continuing the tradition of sending birthday gifts via Blog, here's a special one for my beautiful friend Mel.

Happy birthday Melissa,

This may sound a bit silly,

But writing a poem for you is easier,

Now that you married a Tilley.

Nothing against the name Forkun,

I’ve known that all my life,

We talked how it’d be awesome

If you married into the last name “Knife”.

We are in different countries.

Quite frankly, that is lame.

Without Melissa Forken Tilly,

Life’s just not the same.

I miss you so much it’s crazy,

Like an amputee misses shoes.

Like Isaiah Washington misses his job.

I miss you like L. Lohan misses booze.

I want to wish you special day

And now you’re 25!

You share the same birthday with Gary Busey.

I didn’t think he was still alive.

Oh I confused him with Nick Nolte;

Who is actually also not dead,

But you see him so often looking drugged out,

Why am I such an airhead?

That was an unnecessary digression,

I’m just writing to say,

That I love you so so much

And I wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Close, but not really.

Dave: What’s this, and can I eat some?

Nat: It’s Lindt's Guava flavored chocolate. Jean brought it from Germany. I just ate some. It’s delicious.

……..Long pause……..

Dave: Wait. Isn’t “Guava” bat poop?

Mike: Um, that Guano.

Dave: Gimme some.

Thanks Nad

Poor Mafia.

She’s so tired.
As demonstrated by this balled up post-it note that she just threw at my head.
If I am interpreting this properly, she is also hungry because the “o” in “so” seems to be drawn in the shape of a pizza or honeycomb.

Fly me to the moon......

Squeal of delight!

Happiness is....

This past weekend, six lovely ladies took a very well deserved trip to heaven. Oops, sorry that sounds like we died but I’m just trying to paint a picture of how beautiful Interloken and Lauterbrennen was.
We stayed in an adorably warm and cozy cabin that had a bed almost as comfortable as bed hole with a gorgeous view of the Jungfrau and a magical waterfall. With the exception of running to catch the train (why do all of my stories include that?) it was the most relaxing weekend I think I’ve ever had. It was especially nice because this is the last time that Nadia, Nicky, Natalie, Sasha, Melissa and Caroline will be able to travel together because very shortly some of the group is moving on to bigger and better things.
OH, and most importantly, Sunday morning we went PARAGLIDING. 1000 feet up in the air over mountain tops and lakes with handsome Swiss men strapped to our backs. It was Nic and Caroline who suggested it, and we all managed to peer pressure each other into doing it all the while talking out our fears such as:

Nadia: “What if I pee my pants?”
Natalie: “You won’t pee. And if you do, I have an extra pair of pants. But I won't be able to give you your dignity back. You'll have to earn that.”

Sasha: "If I die, I need to guys to go to the apartment before anyone else and hide anything that could embarrass my parents."

Natalie: “If I die, tell Linda the Annual report is saved on the G drive and the printers at Villiere are expecting a high resolution print-ready PDF with a 5mm bleed on each side before 5:00pm on Monday-
Everyone: “STOP TALKING ABOUT WORK!!!”

Now for pictures: I will explain more about the flying process later. I must go. I have heartburn.

Pink is the new Prague

Prague: Czech it out (I just can’t get enough of that pun apparently)

I spent Easter weekend in Prague with Nadia, Aaron, Melissa, Caroline, Nicki, Farhad, Megan and Lindsay. We took an overnight train there and back (13 hours in a teeny tiny room)…

Prague is stunningly beautiful. We all had a great time! I love the rich colours, the textures, the buildings, the water. I love it! Aaron, Nadia and I found a great English speaking church to celebrate Easter at and we just spent the whole weekend touring the city, checking out the largest ancient castle in the world and eating food that I will dream about for years (Beer Chili Goulash anyone?? Soooo good).

The hostel we stayed in however was far from “soooo good”. It was actually quite terrible. The four girls had their own room, Far and Nic shared a room and so Aaron, Nadia and I decided to take one for the team and stay in the 8 person dorm styled room. We shared this smelly compartment with 2 super gross Italian guys and a man who was possibly suffering from some kind of horrendous lung condition. This did not make for a good night sleep. The Italians snored like chainsaws being operated by angry Velosoraptors and Mr. Lung Condition coughed up juicy internal organs every 12 seconds. Yeah, remember my post about having super sensitive hearing? Helen Keller wouldn’t be able to sleep in this room.

The first night Nadia and I were lying awake starring at each other at about 2:30 in the morning completely in shock at the cacophony of noise. Finally, Nadia couldn’t take it anymore. When Nadia gets tired/hungry/angry suddenly her language turns into some kind of English/French/Italian/Mumble/Grunt combination. “I need…throw at… something… Monsieur, Tournez-VOUS!! … Ehn…. Must sleep…Arghy… Meh.. Boh….Heeeenh!”

So I toss Nad a bag of garbage (It was either that or my blow dryer, thank me later Italians) and I will forever have this image emblazoned on my mind: A furious mumbling half awake Nadia sitting in bed in a psycho-rage tearing and balling up garbage and throwing it at Italian #2. Probably out of exhaustiong I started laughing so hard, I couldn't control it. Somehow I guess we thought that hucking a dumpster at these guys would improve the situation? The next night the exact same thing happened only Nadia climbed over Mr. Lung Condition’s bed and pulled off Italian #2’s blanket at which point he sat up. Nadia, in a Mission Impossible action-type moment, dove across the bed and pretended to sleep. Again, so incredibly funny because the guy clearly saw what she was doing. Anyway, enough about the hostel (did I mention it only had ONE shower for the whole place). More Prague to come......

Steady As She Goes

After a long day at work, if I know that I’m going somewhere other than home, I like to touch up my make up on the bus. Nothing extravagant, just the basics. I’ll sit near the front of the bus so that people don’t have to watch me do this. Today, we were at a stop and I was putting on a bit of eyeliner. Suddenly I realized, ‘Why aren’t we moving?” The bus driver was waiting for me to finish putting on my eyeliner before leaving. That is REALLY nice! I’m perfectly capable of not poking my eyes out, I’ve been doing this sort of thing in cars for years; and usually I’m the one driving. I got the giggles though when I realized that a bus of like 30 people was being held up because the bus driver thought he was saving me from a life time of Braille and foldable walking sticks. So I put the pencil down and the bus driver smiled and said something to me and then drove off. I picked out the words "Madame", “Tres” and “Dangereux”. But I don't speak French, so his message remains a mystery to me.

If you need me, I'll be in my bed hole.

I’ve often noted that living alone has resulted in an unprecedented level of bizarre concessions that I make based on the fact that there is no one to answer to, but me. For instance, I put a bit of polenta in everything I eat… I just like the texture. I have a towel in the middle of my floor because whenever the song “I don’t need a man” comes on French MTV, I stop everything I’m doing and do 50 crunches. And I have a little white sign taped to the top of my door handle that says “Wallet, Bus Pass, Keys, Lipstick”.

All of these things I wouldn’t do if someone else were here. (probably)

My latest concession has to do with my bed. I have a large queen sized IKEA bed. I only sleep on a quarter of it. Ikea beds often have planks that sit across the bed frame to hold up the mattress. Somehow about 5 planks have come out of place. Because of this, my mattress sinks in there until it’s stopped by the pull out mattress under my bed. I’d just like to explain, that my bed isn’t broken, I can simply put the planks back in, but words can’t even explain how comfortable it is to sleep nestled in this divot. I once walked into my bathroom at home and found my cat lying in the sink. I finally now understand why she did that. The same concept is employed here; only my cat is considerably dumber than I am.

I curl up in my bed hole every night and fall asleep immediately; I am starting to get worried that I may never be able to sleep on a straight surface again.

Snow plight

This picture is an optical illusion. You see with the mountains, the hat, the ski jacket and the red ‘snow bunny’ cheeks you might think that I went skiing. I didn’t. I've only lived in Canada and Switzerland and I've still never skied in my life.

That’s why it’s an illusion.
I did however go on a fantastic winter retreat with my Young Adults Group (YAGS).

I don't have issues. I have subscriptions.

I've developed super human hearing since coming here. I don't know why. But I am so easily irritated by tiny noises. I'm in my office one day and when you work in an open office (one GIANT room) you become aware of all of your coworkers habits (ie. throat clearing, loud phone conversations that no one else needs to hear, typing so hard it’s as if you are punishing the keys).
On this particular day, I suddenly heard someone breathing UNNECESSARILY loudly. Like over and over again. I just ignored it. But it kept going. I couldn't very well turn around and yell "STOP BREATHING" (although I seriously considered it). So maturely, I just sat there and got angrier and angrier.
Finally, for some reason I went to the other side of the office and out the window about 100 yards away, there was a man raking leaves. That raking noise is what I thought was the breathing. So I turned around and yelled:

"MIKE!" (Mike is our webmaster)

"I have been MAD AT YOU for 45 minutes!!!"....

Shell shocked Mike goes "What did I do?"

"You were breathing too loudly."

"I'm.... I'm sorry"

"But then I realized that it was that dude over there raking leaves. So I'm not mad at you anymore!!"

"Oh okay. I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore for something I never actually did......."

"Me too. I’m glad we had this talk."

What's your sign?

Okay, I took this picture in the subway in Rome. Maybe it’s my graphic artist bent, but I love seeing how people communicate visually. This sign to me is just incredibly bizarre. Let’s rock this clockwise and start in the top left corner.

Picture one: I get it, don’t lean against the door. You might fall through. Fair enough.

Picture two: Don’t pry open the door. Again, a perfectly reasonable request illustrated in a perfectly reasonable way.

Picture three: Who would ever voluntarily put themselves in this position? According to my trusty (and NEVER inaccurate) word for word online translator the message is “not to go up or to come down during the closing”. I think a better caption would be “Don’t be a friggin’ idiot” which may or may not translate to: “Non sia ‘friggin’ stupido”

Picture four: Do not, EVER back into the subway car whilst doing the running man.

A glimpse of Rome.

When in Roma!

After fours days of a severe carbohydrate assault on my body, I return to Geneva from Rome. I was fortunate to be able to go with my good friends Nicki, Melissa, Caroline, Megan, and Dave.
Rome is incredible, it’s like stepping into a time machine not only because of the historical monuments and ruins, but because Italy very much seems to run on a time zone of it’s very own. We almost missed the scheduled bus back to the airport yesterday because we sat for lunch in a beautiful restaurant where there is a GIANT clock on the wall that was 40 minutes slow. So my last memories of Rome are sprinting through the street dodging Gypsies and tripod salesmen. Megan at one point turns around and poignantly addressed “You guys realize we’re running on the assumption that the BUS is going to be on time….” Which it wasn’t. We made it. Crisis averted.
We made the most of the 4 days and saw The Vatican, St. Paul’s, The Sistene Chapel, the Collosseum, Palitine Hill, Capital Hill, The Jewish Ghetto, The Mouth of Truth, Circus Maximus, The Pantheon, Piazza di Spagna (Spanish Steps), Trevi Fountain, The Roman Forum, and the Cemetery of the Capuchins.
You know the phrase "Rome wasn't built in a day"? well that's a terrible cliche and I hope you never actually use it in real life. Rome clearly can't be explained in one blog post. As always if you want the unadulterated “Natalie experience” I’d happily explain it in person, over coffee, with extravagant hand gestures. Here are a few stories:


Americans are funny:
While taking this picture at the Spanish Steps amidst throngs of people, I was approached by two young American girls.
American Girl: “Would you mind taking our picture?”
Natalie: “Of course not! Now would you like just the steps in the background or would you like me to get the church in there two?”
America Girl: “Huh? Oh… I meant in front of Christian Dior” (Girl points across the street).
Natalie: “Hahahahaha! Oh. Oh my goodness. You’re serious. I-I- I’m so sorry- this is awkward. Smile! *click*”

We stayed in a great little hostel which featured a free pasta party every weeknight. The girls (Nicki, Caroline, Melissa, Megan and I) stayed in a 6 person bed and the 6th bed was occupied by Gary. Gary is an Australian traveling artist who spends his days creating magnificent paintings on the streets of Rome and spends his night drinking magnificent beer on the streets of Rome. Despite the initial creepy factor of sleeping 6 feet from a stranger Gary turned out to be a really nice guy who even took us around the city and showed us how to get to the view where this picture was taken overlooking the Roman Forum. ***One morning in my quest to get the first (hottest) shower I had set my alarm the night before and for some reason put the clock about half a foot farther than I should have. The alarm went off and I didn’t want to wake anyone so I lunged at the alarm and completely fell off the bed, blankets and all. I stayed down there for a second hoping that no one saw me and heard a low Aussie accent:
“I give that a 7.4”
“Shut up Gary”.

I like Rome.

Rome.

Coco Loco Invitation

The Ballad of the Teflon High Dive

This story shall be called:

The Ballad of the Teflon High Dive

My one and only frying pan is lying on the roof of the building below me. Right before the Christmas holidays I was sugar-roasting almonds to put into a chocolate bark for the office Christmas party. As per the rule of thumb for all appliances in Chateau Shoebox nothing quite works how one would expect it too. The “melting box” (Oven) will produce a deliciously warm pizza in about 50 minutes of cooking it on high (think: what pizza would look like if you simply microwaved it into submission). The refrigerator will freeze fruit that is on the middle shelf, but rot fruit in the crispers. And the actual microwave will explode a mug of milk in 15 seconds flat.
Now the stove top part of the oven is what I would like to call “Temperature wildcard”; sometimes if you put it on “5” it’s hotter than the sun, and sometimes if you put it on “5” you could sit a baby on it.
This particular almond experiment fell under the former category and smoke was filling up in my kitchen. I wisely dumped the almonds into the colander and held the pan out the window. My arm got tired, or I got bored and so I rested the pan on my rather large window sill and went in the living room to continue wrapping presents. 20 minutes and 4 beautiful chartreuse and fuchsia wrapped gifts later I walk back in the kitchen, immediately realize its STINKIN’ cold, spin around and roundhouse kick the window shut.
At that moment, time stands still as I realize, while fully committed to the roundhouse that my pan is still sitting on the sill. Like a movie climax I run to the window to watch the pan soar 6 floors down and land nicely on the roof of the Chinese Food restaurant below.

The almond bark still turned out fantastically though.

I have briefly considered going to the Chinese restaurant and asking if somehow I could retrieve the pan from there roof, but I’m pretty sure that with my limited French and Chinese, trying to get the message “I kicked my pan and it fell on your roof” across would probably be in vain.
Fortunately for me however, I shared this pathetic tome with my family over the holidays and you know what happened? 5 beautiful frying pans appeared in my bedroom!! Aunt Cizzy, Uncle Slim, Ret and Chance were so totally amazing and got me all new pans!!! I love you guys SO MUCH!

Moral of this story is this:

Almonds burn easily.


***I love my family so much and they care about me a lot and that makes me smile and look forward to seeing them again soon!

Happy Birthday EMILY

There are somethings in this world that I tolerate.
Such as: music by John Mayer, Green Tea, and the occasional Leafs game.

There are somethings in this world that I like.
Such as: brightly coloured post-it notes, the trashy Brit-soap ‘East Enders’, and doing handstand push-ups.

And there are somethings in this world that I love.
Such as: My family, Emily Ahlgren, and Swiss Chalet dipping sauce.

But since Emily is a part of my family and today it is January 12th, the day of birth of the original Pineapple Vixen, let’s compare which out ranks the other in the list of THINGS NATALIE LOVES in a game I’d like to call:

Swiss Chalet sauce is consistently delicious no matter where you go
- 1 point
Emily Ahlgren is also consistently delicious no matter where you go
- 1 point

Emily Ahlgren is beautiful on this inside and out
- 1 point
Swiss Chalet sauce is like rust coloured jelly
- 0 points

Swiss Chalet sauce is not in Switzerland
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is also not in Switzerland
- 0 points

Emily Ahlgren is brilliant and hilariously funny
- 1 point
Swiss Chalet sauce does not speak
- 0 points

Swiss Chalet sauce gets cold too fast
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is always hot
- 1 points

Swiss Chalet sauce comes in a small container and runs out quickly
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is packaged nicely and is always there for me
- 1 point

Swiss Chalet sauce is only 35 calories
- 0 points
Emily Ahlgren is no calories
- 1 point


*****6 to 1. Looks like it has been scientifically proven that I love Emily Ahlgren EVEN more than I love Swiss Chalet sauce and that is a lot of love.

Happy 24th you hot thing.