I spent 15 hours in total at this convention this weekend, internet.
Shit got a little weird.
Theoretically, the booths were divided into sections for beauty, food, shopping, business, and travel, with two stages for fashion shows and informative talks and stripping firemen. Our booth, however, was in travel and there were ladies directly across from us selling candles, so I don’t know what that was about.
We formed an informal alliance with the candle ladies, the guys from the local radio station, and the caesar salad kit people, all of whom gave us free swag. Somehow I ended up with like 8 toothbrushes, because the teeth whitening people were super aggressive.
I ended up amusing myself by thinking up better slogans for some of the vendors there.
The storage unit guy:
“Do You Have a Lot of Things? We Can Help With That!”
The tarot card reader:
“I Saw What You Did There, and I See What You Will Do There, Also”
The designer denim shop:
“Apple Bottom Jeans”
“Not THAT Kind”
The gourmet nut shop:
“We Know Nuts”
….it was a long weekend, you guys.
I had the weirdest day, internet.
I woke up early to take advantage of being in a hotel smack dab in the middle of the Byward Market. God, it’s awesome here. I cannot stress that enough.
I got a croissant and some delicious fresh grapes and strawberries for breakfast.
Yet I digress.
The convention was big and scary and awesome and sensory-overloading. I wandered around before anyone got there and was pretty overwhelmed.
And that’s before this:
And this happened.
To describe it simply, the Women’s Convention was a lot of vendors and independent consultants and beauty people and tarot card readers and vibrator sellers and firemen and fashion models squished into one room with a bunch of eager consumers.
It was very exciting for about five hours.
Eight hours was a little long, although it gave me ample time to sample all of the creative food options (twice).
But my awesome manager K secretly ordered me poutine at dinner, so all is well and good. Fabulous, even, considering I’m full of potatoes, gravy, and beer.
Tata for now.
Hey internet. I’m in Ottawa for a fancy women’s convention thing. I drove up this morning with my coworker / manager K and have spent much of the day in the car watching the rain and listening to country music.
This is a representative picture:
Funnily enough, our booth is a few booths down from the See Puerto Rico group, which is essentially my favorite place in the entire universe and also major competition for Place-Where-I-Live.
Because, y’know, why travel to Place-Where-I-Live in 50-60 degree fall weather when you can fly to a tropical paradise.
Anyways, we stopped in a charming little town right outside of the Thousand Islands for lunch and now I’m jotting down a few lines before we foray into the city for dinner (also shopping).
You know what’s awesome about Ottawa?
1. Ottawa is the capital of Canada.
2. Ottawa is the fourth largest city in Canada.
3. Ottawa is the fourth cleanest city out of 300 major cities ranked around the world – at least according to Forbes.
4. Nearly half the population is under the age of 35 – making it one of the youngest cities in the country.
5. Moneysense ranked Ottawa for the third consecutive year as the best city in Canada to live in.
(facts source from Hike Bike Travel)
Also, it’s mind-numbingly beautiful here.
I just hit 200 followers on my Facebook page! Join the party!
Ah Canada. I love you so.
If you missed it yesterday, I’m in Canada visiting my grandparents. I was in Canada earlier this summer and was inspired to write such classic posts as My Grandmother is a Pirate and The True Story of When I was a Hot Box Doll.
God, it’s just so weird here. I love it.
To clarify, I’m right across the border from Buffalo. This is a picture I took from the restaurant where I had lunch. It’s the skyline of Buffalo.
(I should also point out that the restaurant is a classic Canadian grill style restaurant called the Palmwood and advertising Mexican beer. Oh Canada.)
It’s Friday the 13th here (and probably where you are), and my grandfather casually mentioned that we may see hordes of motorcyclists on their Friday the 13th pilgrimage to Port Dover, which is apparently a great Canadian tradition.
It was whatever.
Things started to pick up, however, when Mamma Mia and Gran and I took the grand dogs on a walk to town and saw this.
Sensing a hilarious image based blog in the making I – okay, fine.
We were walking back and my Mum and my Gran were having a hilariously in-depth discussion of the various front lawn statuary we saw as we past by and I was cheerfully obvious of a blog opportunity until I saw THIS GUY about a block away from Gran’s house:
That’s when I realized:
CANADIANS LOVE FRONT LAWN DECORATION.
This magnificence is right next door to my grandparent’s house. I’ve titled it Bird Paradise.
Now, I don’t know if it’s because of where I am in Canada, or because of whatnot and this-and-that, but I should note that all of these pictures were taken within a one-block radius. This was without trying that this happened.
And my grandparents apparently aren’t immune, either.
Hey internet. I’m writing this one from the road, so apologies in advanve for the spelling mistakes I’m sure I’m about to make.
Mi madre and I are headed to Canada to visit mes grandparents. We’re going to a cooking school of some sort in the illustrious and beautimous wine country of Niagara. Because yes, internet, there is more to do in Niagara than watch gallons of water fall majestically over some rocks.
Also Gran said something about going to see an Elvis tritube show at the Fallsview Casino in Niagra Falls or something and I don’t know whether or not that’s happening but god I hope so.
Anyways, it’s the dark of night and we’re driving in a vaguely northernly direction through New York in the middle of farm country, and needless to say, it’s not particularly inspiring as far as writing material goes.
Doop de doo.
I really need to publish this before I cross the border, and I still technically haven’t written about anything.
Lots of construction happening on this highway. That’s cool, I guess.
Earlier the sky was doing this:
So. That’s a thing.
Yeahhhh I’m just gonna call it a day.
I might officially have the two stupidest dogs on the planet.
Let me explain.
I’m still in Canada visiting my grandparents, whose house is right on the lake. Not lake close. Not lake side. Lake on.
My two golden retriever puppies, Patty Mayonnaise and Dr. Pepper, are H2o enthusiasts. They swim like otters who have spend the entire morning unattended in a candy shop. Patty, in particular, is aqua obsessive. She will figuratively swim until she dies. Pepper enjoys BEING in water, but less so the physical aspect.
Let’s omit the part where it took them 15 minutes to even figure out that the house was near a body of water. Namely, the 15 minutes it took for me to put a swimsuit on and take them down to the beach. Come on, dogs.
No, the part that had me in stitches was the part where my dear dogs could not see the massive schools of spawning carp that were literally underneath their noses.
Side note – did you see what I did up there with the correct usage of figuratively and literally? That’s how it’s done, internet.
Yet I digress.
Each spring, the lakefront right outside my grandparent’s house is home to multiple healthy populations of fish… uh… doin’ it. As only fish can do. Meaning by laying eggs and – you know what, you get the idea.
I distinctly remember one day when I was a kid, about 7 years old. I was swimming in the shallows and I caught, with my bare hands, a pike who was clearly sedated by his (her?) post-coital bliss. I grabbed hold of the struggling serpentine shape and high-tailed to the house, where mi familia was enjoying some late afternoon apéritifs.
I proudly walked into the middle of this pleasant gathering, and said (true story), “Look! I caught dinner!”
It took some time for then to convince me to put the fish back in the lake. Apparently people don’t eat pike (reasons why I’m single #4 – I’m wicked good at catching spawning pike).
Long story summarized – lots of fish up in this lake. Massive fish. I saw at least five 10-pounders.
What catches my dog’s attention, pray tell? What makes them raise their hackles and growl and clash their teeth?
This inanimate, non-threatening rock. Keep in mind there are huge fish swimming INTO my dog’s legs (fish are dumb).
But no, apparently the rock was a bigger security issue than the fish.
Because of reasons?