The Coldest Capital

This weekend we went to Ottawa to see my wonderful sister Christine and her wonderful husband Jake. A good time was had by all as we ate, worked out, ate, went shopping at the Byward Market, ate, played Nintendo, ate, and went skating on the Rideau Canal. Did I mention that while at the Market we bought chocolates and other miscellaneous treats? Did I mention that we ate the following: crepes, raclette, lemon meringue pie, sausages, home-made char-siu pork tenderloin, baklava, lemon scones, chocolate, Cheerios, fruit, yogurt, broccoli, rice, and dried mango?

Is anybody else hungry?

Thanks for the eats, sis -- it wouldn't be a weekend with family without indigestion.

A special mention also goes out to Kit Kat, who takes the prize as the world's largest pizza cat.

My Three Bestest Friends

Yes, Christine's head is partially cut off. That's right, I'm not looking the right way. Yes, Karen is wearing velveteen reindeer antlers. I know, Judy's perfect.

To my sisters: What would I do without you? Please, let's always be our wacky, crazy, hilarious selves. XOXO

Guess What I Just Did!

I got booted! At camp!

Actually, I just went to my regular boot camp class and sweated my way through a series of aerobics ("Grapevine left!"), weight training, step class ("Vee step right! Ham-curl three! Vee step left! Jack it up!"), abs, and jumping around in general for approximately sixty minutes. The point of all this is to make onself look like a complete ass for an hour and hopefully make oneself hot in doing so.

Of course, the instructor is an incredibly chiseled and attractive young girl with arms reminiscent of Madonna and true Buns of Steel (but, I note with bitchy delight, a touch of cellulite on her shapely thighs.)

And of course, she does not do boot camp to make herself look that way. She is basically a career athlete who teaches classes, does some personal training on the side, and oh yeah, competes in triathlons, marathons, and Ironman races regularly. The way she looks is secondary to what she accomplishes, and that's the way it should be.

I, on the other hand, spend three hours a week spinning, one in boot camp, one in martial arts, one weight training, and another two to four hours weekly on a variation of the human hamster wheel so that I can look like I compete in triathlons, marathons, and Ironman races.

Hm.

Meanwhile, if anybody's interested in truly blitzing himself or herself in the name of fitness, check out: www.crossfit.com and be truly blown away.

All the Colours of the Rainbow

Today was quite a chaotic day at work! In ten minutes, four different codes were called over the hospital loudspeakers:

Code Green Horizontal (evacuation of the floor)

Code Brown (chemical spill)

Code Red (Fire)

Code Pink (infant or child cardiac arrest)

The first three Codes were related, obviously. Elevators and stairwells were closed off, people were prevented from entering the hospital, and the fire station was called.

The ruckus lasted most of the afternoon. We had no idea what was happening, except that we were told to keep working "as usual" unless instructed otherwise.

Contrary to popular belief, I had nothing to do with this one. Hah.

Heaving Bosoms and all That

I went clothes shopping today, whee! One of the big attractions was the recently-opened Abercrombie and Fitch store at the Eaton Centre, so I headed over there knowing full well that I am way too old to wear that stuff.

Imagine my surprise when I was greeted by an absolutely gorgeous, muscled, sinewy young man clad in nothing except a pair of extremely low-rise jeans. He was standing under a spotlight, for god's sake! I blushed, giggled, and ran through the store JUST IN CASE there was something age-appropriate for me -- but all that was to be found were denim short-short-shorter-than-short-shorts, so I left. I didn't mean to look again, but Mr. Naked Torso was clearly enjoying the attention and specifically said good-bye to me (I don't know, maybe I reminded him of his mother?), so I looked. Then I looked again.

Then I found a reason to walk by the store two more times.

I am somewhat disturbed and/or amused at this whole situation. A&F is notorious for pushing the limits of appropriateness in their clothing ads and catalogues. First of all, the clothing is clearly targeted to a very young crowd -- perhaps too young for all of this blatant sexuality. This man was very, very blatant in his sexuality. This greeter, though somewhat different than the ones at Wal-Mart, was present to entice people into the store, and he was also very young -- no more than 22, I'm guessing. The saleskids (and believe me, they were kids) were also provocatively dressed. The girls wore mini-minis, and the boys had their shirts unbuttoned to their navels. It makes me wonder, do they dress like this of their own accord, or is the "dress code" dictated by management?

It was also amusing that the object of desire in this case was a fine young male specimen. There was not a scantily-clad female greeter anywhere to be seen. I wonder if this was deliberate. We're allowed to ogle the young men, but I'm willing to bet my new boots a nearly-adolescent female greeter would have sparked outcry.

I think I need a reason to go back to the mall...

You know you need the weekend when...

You try to use your Visa card to get into the subway station instead of your MetroPass.

Three times.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

I'm such a gentleman.

Last week as we got up from our lunch table I noticed another building worker leaning back in his chair, ogling my coworker's denim-clad ass with a look in his eyes that said that he was filing that particular image in his brain for future use. I snapped. "What are you looking at?" I asked indignantly. "Nothing! I was looking at you..." he dwindled. I'd caught him and called him out! Props for Val! I felt great. I'd saved the day and my friend's dignity from the probing eyes of a local Neanderthal.

Today he came up to our door and spoke to my coworker. "Please pass on this message," he said stiffly. "Tell certain people that they should find out what they're talking about before they speak. My wife was at that table with me. I was not looking at anything I should not have been looking at. I had to go home to my wife and deal with her. Tell people they should think before speaking."

I felt bad for about 2 seconds.

However, a few facts came to mind.

1. He was leaning back in his chair with his arm flung over the back, a wolfish leer on his lips, eyes pointedly focused below the level of our belts.

2. I did not say, "Stop looking at my friend's ass, you lech!", though I wanted to.

3. If his wife wanted to take from my comment that he was looking somewhere he wasn't, well, that's not really my problem.

Plus, he was totally looking. There's nothing wrong with looking, but the drooling kind of ticked me off. And now I have to deal with this guy on occasion -- I can't wait! I guess this is yet another one of those opportunities where my mouth speaks before the brain filter kicks in.