Wild West Adventures

By Amanda Leduc
2T Management

My Dear Darlings,

Holy jeeze, so much has happened since my last article! In order of occurence, I was convinced to wear my hair like Princess Leah and was subsequently called “fugly” by my boss, I had a rock star weekend in Cornwall, I learned more salsa dancing, I got infected with bronchitis and got paid to spend hours in Holt Renfrew dealing with imported people. So how did all this happen you ask? That’s a story and half so keep on reading...

So the hair story happened at work. My anti-shoe boss Kraygee left the office which leaves just Di-Pi and I alone. I’m convinced Di-Pi has rabies. As always, Di-Pi started whining incessantly at me to wear my hair in giant princess Leah style pig-tail buns ... so I did. She said I looked good, I thought I looked like a lunatic, but at least it kept the hair out of my eyes. I had no intent on keeping my hair-do for our site meeting; I already stand out enough against the other consultants and contractors on site. It’s one of those “one of these things is not like the other” situations. Anyway, when Kraygee returned to the office, he didn’t mention the meatball looking hair style planted on either side of my head because he thought that was normal for me. Di-Pi told him I thought I looked “friggin’ ugly”, he corrected her and said “you mean fugly?”. And that’s the story of my boss calling me fugly.

Kraygee was mentioning how many applicants he got to replace me for the winter term. I can’t believe 80 of you are already planning on replacing me! I don’t blame you, the job is sweet. If you have figured out the real name of M3HS and you’ve applied, send me an email and I’ll prep you for the interview. I’ll give you a hint, I changed the first three letters of the company name from imperial to metric, got it?

I guess it’s time to tell you about the wild weekend in Cornwall. I flew in to Ottawa on a Friday and flew out the following Sunday for my cousins wedding. It was a marriage of two mechanical engineers and it was beautiful. The ceremony was lovely and there was copious amounts of wine at the reception. The only thing missing were single men. Fortunately, my cousins came prepared with Gibson’s Finest aged 12 years (if you don’t know what it is, look it up and try it now!) and a cuban to complement the Gibson’s Finest.

Shortly after returning to Alberta, I fell terribly ill. My throat was so sore I could hardly cough. Apparently I have bronchitis which may lead to pneumonia. Perfect. On the bright side, with my loss of appetite and my abs hurting so much from all the coughing, I should have a wicked body by the time I recover.

The majority of my family that attended the wedding is also sick, including my little sister who returned to campus after the wedding; she is now a UW biohazard. For those of you fortunate enough to have had me introduce you to her, you now have one more reason to keep your distance from her. Aside from me causing you physical harm if you so much as look at her the wrong way, you also will likely be infected with an unpleasant respiratory illness. Understand?

After I got home from Cornwall but before I had the bronchitis symptoms, I had my third salsa lesson! I think I may have unknowingly infected the 15 or so guys I danced with at that lesson, including the unidentified individual who shall remain nameless that I mentioned last article. But at least he actually showed up this time. Turns out he’s a pretty good dancer after all. In fact, we’re supposed to go dancing on another not-a-date night at a gay club on Friday, if I recover from this illness. Why a gay club you ask? Yes, it’s true both the unidentified individual who shall remain nameless and myself are straight, but he claims he doesn’t want all the usual female attention he receives at typical clubs. Talk about an inflated self image. This guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women and that as such he needs to pass on his genes as much as possible. I think he’s up to something with this whole “I’ll call my gay friends and we’ll go to a gay bar so we don’t have the usual club atmosphere pressure”. I’ll let you know when I figure out what his intentions are.

Now comes the Holt Renfrew part. As I mentioned last article, the company I work for is commissioning the new Holt Renfrew addition in downtown Calgary. It was pretty easy to work there before there was merchandise in the store, but when we showed up the day before the grand opening, I found myself surrounded by designer labels of which I’d only dreamed. Imagine trying to focus on HVAC while surrounded by accessories and clothes from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Chanel and even Hermes. OMG!!! Maybe when I graduate and make it big, I’ll splurge on a pair of Roc and Republic jeans and a Hermes scarf. Which brings me to the part about imported people at Holt. You know how the French (the ones from France, not Quebec) are typically considered more sophisticated and fashionable by us North Americans, well Holt Renfrew must believe this too. Not only do they import their products, most of their top people are straight off the plane from France. Evidently an authentic French accent qualifies you to run a high fashion department store.

Random events aside, life in Calgary remains awesome! It may be snowy and cold here now, but the view of the snow on the mountain peaks makes the cold weather well worth it. Fortunately, since the climate is so dry, the cold doesn’t hit as hard as it does in southern Ontario with all the great lakes nearby. The drop in temperature also makes it extra nice for my aunt and I to soak in the hot tub in the back yard at night. Life out here is fine indeed.

Miss you all dearly,
Amanda

Note: Names of co-workers and company have been changed but secretly reflect their true names.