Speaking of canal tours, you gotta do one while here.

Because it is here that you learn why some of the houses lean nervously toward the street (because the homes are so narrow, the staircases are so narrow, so they lift furniture by wenches – is that the word?, no, I looked it up, a ‘wench’ is like a milkmaid or a country girl or a gasp, prostitute, I knew that, anyway, well, you know, they lift their furniture up through the windows with a hooky thing, not a hooker thing – so’s that the furnishings won’t bump into the buildings), and in fact, why those homes are so damned narrow (they used to tax the structures based on their width (somewhere in there is a very satisfying and innapropriate People of Walmart joke)).

How many parentheses do you think is appropriate to line up at the end of a sentence? 

You also have to take a canal boat tour so you can sing to the delight of everyone else on the tour the Andy Samberg song, “I’m on a boat, AND, it’s goin’ fast, AND, I’m wearin’ a nautical-themed Pashmina Afghan,” while gang-signing people toodling by on their bikes as a middle-aged white lady.

That makes everyone love America just a little, bit, more.

Alstublieft.