Mmmmm... doughnuts....

Is Thursday "High Heel Day" downtown or something? I went for my afternoon jaunt to grab a coffee at my beloved Timmy's, and noticed an inordinate amount of women perched on precarious footwear. It wasn't just a couple of ladies: it was a significant proportion. Since I don't normally work Thursdays I can only infer that Thursday is in fact "High Heel Day". Of course the more likely scenario is that all these women are dressed up, accentuating their legs and flashing their decolletage because they are all being taken to sleek, chic restaurants for dinner and drinks by their wealthy, stockbroker beaus who fawn over their every word (yet still grapple intermittently with their Blackberrys, while pretending to pay rapt attention), and take them to Whistler several times a year, pretend to be okay with the box of tampons left in the loo of their Coal Harbour pad and buy them La Perla lingerie every Valentine’s Day. This will continue unabated for maximum of two years, at which point our metrosexual will realize that his collection, currently comprised of: a BMW (or Jetta or Audi); beater Honda; two bedroom condo replete with 24 hour concierge; a BA (minimum) from UBC or SFU; wardrobe resplendent with Abercrombie and Fitch and Banana Republic; and an obligatory well-worn leather attaché case, is missing the ultimate accoutrement – a pretty, petite wife (she can be heavier if she comes from a distinguished family). And so they will marry; it will be a surprisingly smallish affair, but tasteful and expensive, exchanging platinum wedding bands from Birks. They will upgrade to a townhouse, and our husband will be promoted a couple of times and start working longer hours, or so our content housefrau will believe, until she starts to uncover evidence that her beloved is boffing his assistant, or possibly a coworker. If it turns out to be former she will do nothing as she isn’t threatened by some 22 year old tartlet, no matter how pliable she may be. However, if her rival turns out to be the coworker, tall, willowy Tina or whatever her name is (she can’t remember, she was a bit tipsy at the last office party), the one that is the runner – didn’t her husband say they’d been out jogging together on their lunch hour? – and has very toned and athletic thighs, not to mention an impressive resume highlighting her talent (corporate takeovers), and that way of acting so dismissive when she calls on the weekends (!) wanting to consult Charles on some damn document or the other, if it’s her… well, that’s a different story, now isn’t it?
The best part of today was the sour cream glazed doughnut I had. Who gets the crappy bread doughnuts? Don’t you know what you’re missing (besides a whopping 17 grams of fat)? It was soooo good. And it’s someone’s birthday at work, and it’s rumoured there will be a cake appearance later on this afternoon! Hooray for my sugar high!