The Mike Haddad Show: This is relevant to my interests.

Last night I ventured downtown to assume my place as an Olympic Superstar. Or at least that's what I'd like to tell people. There was a fundraiser for the Canadian Olympic Associate and I scored tickets at work for being youthful, attractive, bright and all around perfect. Or so they tell me.

I had to sit in traffic for two hours so solidifying my hatred for all things sports event related, and leaving me questioning the intelligence of the person who scheduled two sports events on the SAME NIGHT, in a city where daily rush hour is on par with New York and Los Angeles. Yes, that's right. We have big cities too you crazy (southern) Americans. So rush hour is bad, but doable. What's a little more hectic is regular rush hour plus two stadiums worth of traffic (because everyone is far to stupid or lazy to understand how GO transit works) all crammed on one expressway. Toronto wants to tear the Gardiner down to open up access to the waterfront downtown? Please pass me whatever they are popping. Cut and partially cover me a new 10 lane expressway, tear down the old elevated 6 way one and build roads and pedestrian crossings over at grade. Then cover as pedestrian and regular traffic or winter weather requires. It could work, I swear.

We finally made it to the Olympic building at 8:00pm, two hours after they had opened their doors but swimmingly ahead of schedule if you're on Paris Hilton time. Paris time, which by the way I totally plan on using from now on, is just amazing because what good is stressing over being on time when you can show up whenever you want and be SO HOT while you do it? Rob and I skipped out on the movie in the basement of the building because we felt bad having to make the girl play it for just us, and I totally knew that I was already pushing my luck having Rob go in the first place and didn't need to feel any worse about taking up his Thursday night.

On the second floor they had set up tables to gamble at and had a silent auction and bar set up along the side. It was definitely not the party that Kristy and I had expected it to be. It was a very suit and tie crowd that had obviously just left their highly paid executive corner offices and decided to make an appearance. We were four hot, young, fashionable adults. Did I mention that everyone was old? Well they were, and I mean old with a capital OLD. Kristy even said that she felt young in there, so you can just imagine how I felt considering that Kristy definitely has six years on me. There was a bit of awkward conversation down there and even more awkward silent until we went up stairs. Then we did what any four hot, young, fashionable adults (so weird to consider myself adult) would have done. We made our own party.

On the third and fourth floors there were stations simulating Olympic events; third floor for the winter games and fourth floor for the summer games. The first even was the biathlon which just happened to be an even where my years of being a semi fit video game loser paid off. I stood watching people do target practice before someone offered me a gun. My inner monologue screamed something like "OMG Ima pwnz0rz sum n00bz!!1!eleventyone-seven!!" completely with 1337 speak and exclamation markage, because I've been fluent in 1337 since it was d00dspeak, back when people still spelt it 'dude' and it was only 'omg' and 'own', never mind 'pmg' and 'pwn'. It totally scored me a 98% on my grade 12 English final too.

So there I was in all my geeky glory, completely owning the targets, while making a complete dork of myself in front of my three hot well dressed companions. Hello Rock and Republic? However I totally didn't mind because I OWNED! I don't mean to blow my own horn (Figuratively, because I'm far too much of a princess to do it physically. Well, that and I couldn't reach anyways.), but I was all like "Witness my street cred, bitches! Brap brap! Then I proceeded to be completely destroyed by Kristy in curling.

By 9:30 they were closing up the Olympic Floors and I was ready to go. I hadn't eaten and the headache I had earned at work breaking three computers had turned into The Headache of DOOM that eats little kittens and wraps me up in their fur so that I can also have a killer allergic reaction too. Nothing says fun like sneezing while your head feels like it's being used as a tennis ball by Serena and Venus. Suffice to that the yelling and the screaming and the LOUD NOISES that followed our human cargo home was enough to make me cranky. By the time we got to Shopper's Drugmart I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Luckily Robert is way too observant for his own good and wouldn't let me leave the radio on while I drove him home. So the ride was therapeutic, and when I got home I flipped off my server-to-be and went to bed. That's right! Bed! Ask any Olympic Superstar and they'll tell you that if you're not going to get rest so you can be physically active, you should still get your beauty sleep. I, ladies and gentlemen, am no exception.