You Know You’re Living in Small-Town Ontario When…
Snowmobiles pull up to service stations to gas up, showering sparks all over the pavement.
The word “youse” is considered an acceptable pronoun.
It’s pretty much impossible to find a contractor or tradesman during the month of November, because they’re all off to Deer Camp.
Poutine with meat is considered haute cuisine.
To outsiders, your town is known mainly for the Tim Horton’s on the highway.
The same Tim Horton’s will routinely run out of donuts.
It’s not unusual to drive 100 km without seeing a traffic light.
The local-yokel radio station plays bingo. Live, on the air. Winners phone in their winning cards.
The DJ at the same local-yokel radio station knows his callers on a first-name basis.
The main grocery store buys out the only other food store in town, and shuts it down to eliminate the competition.
The plant installs a revolving door in their newest building, and it causes confusion with some people who’ve obviously never had to use one.
Two different people who’ve never met will try to set you up with the same single woman.
The only sales help you can get are clueless, sullen 17-year-olds.
You better fill up with gas by 10:00 PM, or you’re going nowhere.
They finally tear down the old Canadian Tire and build a brand new store, but they neglect to install automatic electric doors. Have fun trying to maneuver your 500-lb. trolley full of garden soil outside.
Gas-station restrooms all consist of circa 1968 wood paneling, and are freezing inside.
Bears shit in your back yard.
Baseball caps are the height of men’s fashion.
A beer gut isn’t something to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s expected.
It’s a 45 minute drive to the nearest shopping mall. And McDonald’s…and movie theater…and functioning laundromat…and real hospital….
When you’re at that mall’s food court, and you try to buy burgers, the A&W informs you that they’re out of meat.
There are only 3 pay-at-the-pump gas stations within a 150-kilometer radius, and you know where they all are.
Every store sells worms.
Apparently, you have the only video store on the planet that displays the DVD’s chronologically, rather than alphabetically.
The “Pizza Pizza” franchise closes at 9:00 PM on Friday. Because Lord knows, NOBODY would want to buy a pizza on Friday night.
The local restaurants don’t bother with a soda fountain. When you order a coke, they give you the can, and charge you $1.25.
You write letter to the editor in the local paper, and people are still talking about it 2 years later.