Allison's Declassified Wanna-be-Texan Survival Guide

If there is one thing that is harder than a Texan living in Canada, it's for a Canadian living in Texas. I would conjure up studies and statistics of the Canadians that choose to live in the deathly heat of the American south, but unfortunately there are none. Either the Canadians have spontaneously combusted, evaporated, fallen into a pit of lava while going for a walk or got stuck in a cactus and never got to be properly interviewed because they couldn't un-stuck their hand to answer the phone calls and thus were stuck there. Forever.

As you well know or have been sleeping under rocks/giant tortoises, I lived in Canada for 8 months; and as a Texan, I nearly died had I not created my own Survival Guide! It was only 2 and a half months ago that I moved back to my home state of Texas, and it seems my Canadian skin I grew in the north is forced to peel away underneath this cruel, Mordor-birthed sun.

So, this helpful list I made is for all those Canadians thinking of moving to Texas one day, or perhaps to visit to escape your cold, soul-eating, Frost-Giant winters. Heed my words, Canadians. What I have learned may save your very life.



As stated in my last survival guide, the first rule also applies in Texas: When going for a walk, don't go for a walk. The chances of falling into a sudden lava pit on your neighborhood sidewalk is a likely 93%.

Again, when going for hopefully not a walk, sometimes the more clothes you wear, the less the Mordor-birthed sun will be able to scorch your skin right off like a banana peel. So forget the short-shorts idea. Nobody likes to see your cheeks hangin out anyway.

If you ever decide to hopefully not go outside, never, ever walk barefoot. Soft grass doesn't exist here. Nor does cold cement. That's only in the fairy tales.

If you somehow ignore my advice above and go for a walk barefoot anyway, you'll end up getting a sticker (thistle) straight up your foot, invading your skin walls and injecting a temporary poisonous itch right where it stabbed you. When this happens, quickly pull it out and slap a band-aid on that sucker like you just had the best dang chicken tenders, and wait an hour or two for the itch to leave.

Also, when hopefully not outside, be aware of all the other poisonous things sitting, crawling and flying about, such as tarantulas, rattlesnakes, vampire rabbits and bugs you wished you never saw. If you happen to come across these things, the best thing you can do is enjoy yourself with them while you're still alive for a couple more minutes. Maybe have a tea-party. Play some football with the rattlesnake. Maybe a friendly game of Texas Hold 'Em with the tarantula.

Don't ever touch a cactus. Just...don't.

Driving in Texas may be easier than driving in Canada in the winter, but there are some things you must be aware of. When it's too hot outside (which is all the time), the tar on the roads will begin to melt. When the tar melts, it'll cling to your car like a koala. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be driving around with koala's attached to my rims.

Also when driving, be sure to dodge the dead animals on the road. Usually there's one or two fine platters of roadkill for every couple miles. These platters consist of: coyote, jackrabbits, local dogs and cats who thought they could beat the system, skunks and maybe a vampire raccoon.

When it gets hazy-brown outside in the distance...run. Run as far away as you can. Bunker down the fort. Strap down the dogs outside and hide in the basement. It's a sandstorm, and those sick puppies don't give way to nobody.

Every Texan man with a truck most likely owns a gun. It's common sense, folks. Don't make them angry.

Everything really is bigger in Texas. This includes several things you would consider normal size, but are in reality much larger in Texas: burgers, weiner dogs, pigskins, cupcakes, weeds, spiders, the sun, and everything else.

Lastly, and most importantly, if you ever want to survive, heed these words: Don't ever, ever...mess with Texas.



And that's all the advice I have for you Wanna-be-Texan Canadians. After reading all of this, I hope you feel discouraged and horrified by the thought of moving to Texas. If you don't feel discouraged and horrified, you may actually have the guts to live here. If you ever plan to do such a dumb thing, be reassured...Allison's Declassified Wanna-be-Texan Survival Guide will always be right here for you. Always.

The Case of the Missing Frost Giants

As you can tell by the picture above, there is something terribly wrong with the seasons in the Land of the Frost Giants.

You see, where I come from, we only have one season: Summer. Although I'm not even sure if Summer is the correct seasonal word. In fact, I should just make up a new season to describe how it's really like in Texas all year round.

Fllumer. It's like...Fall and Summer. But...Fllumer. You know that stage where all the green grass turns yellow and the trees get all ugly and almost-naked, and everything just looks all brown? But, it's also hot outside all the time. That's the only season west Texas has. Fllumer.

And so I have drawn my certain conclusion that Canada's seasons are all out of wack. Their winter (also known as their most common season) lasts over half a year. Half a year. And if it's not winter, somehow it's Summer. There is hardly anything in-between other than a few seconds of mud or orange leaves.

As I was briefly back in the Land of the Frost Giants during their season of Summer, I was beguiled by the fact that there were no frost giants to be seen! I searched and searched for them, those Eskimo-like creatures with their skin made purely of ice and their eyes like shards of sapphire (I dare say that the common eye color in their land is blue. Whereas in Texas to our surprise, our eyes match the dirty south: brown. Maybe a dark brown, if you get lucky.)

Anyway, when I searched in Canadian pastures, I found nothing but healthy fruits and green vegetables (which I fled from immediately). I looked inside their vast valleys of grass and found nothing but wild flowers and ticks. I looked under rocks and over hills and beyond the expanse of the Land of the Frost Giants, but all I could find were armies of mosquitoes and horse flies.

I was soon about to label my hopeless investigation a lost cause, until suddenly I realized...What if Frost Giants metamorphosize into a different species during the summer? What if all this time, the Frost Giants have been right under my nose?!

Ecstatic and a wee bit frightened, I ran all the way back to Texas, huffling and buffling straight down into my front yard and pummeling through my house and into my secret office down a secret flight of stairs found behind a secret trapdoor, and I whipped out my handy-dandy notebook. I opened my case file for the Missing Frost Giants and reported my findings as fast as I could.

"Dear Diary, Declassified File #1: The Case of the Missing Frost Giants

Frost Giants are a rare species, and so at the sight of their sudden disappearance, I have endured deadly journeys to find them once again. After wrestling with mosquitoes the size of bears and bears the size of mosquitoes and losing several arms in the midst, I looked at the land the Frost Giants once roamed. There I laid eyes upon green pastures and flowing water.

It hit me then. I stumbled upon the answer to their rash disappearance.

You might not believe me, dear reader (how did you find my secret office?), but I've seen it with my very own two dark brown eyes (I got lucky). ...Frost Giants...metamorphosize into a different species during the summer! Yes, I truly discovered a new species! Therefore I shall give them a new name that will properly fit them in their summer shifts. In honor of my own kind and theirs, I shall call them...

Fllumer Giants.

Case Closed."