That's where they've been hiding!

Every once in a while, as a distraction from high and mighty intellectual pursuits, I find myself asking, “ where are all the good-looking chaps?” From time to time, when out in bars or restaurants or in other public places such as tree-lined boulevards or subway platforms, I will look around, seeing if I can spot anything worth seeing, so to speak. Oh, don’t get the wrong idea- it’s not as though I make a sport out of cruising for eligible hotties. But, every once in a while, I like to assess the situation, to take stock of the options available should I find myself in need of a handsome young buck to soothe my soul. I’ll admit, more often than not, I end up disappointed. The world seems to have no shortage of boorish buffoons I wouldn’t want to touch with the proverbial ten-footer. Yet, there is always the delightful exception to the rule. The strange thing I’ve discovered lately about this anomaly is that, more often than not, he tends to have the same employer. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.

Now don’t start thinking that the poor gal’s flipped her wig and is getting her panties in a twist over Don Cherry. Just because I’ve noticed that many handsome men are employed by the CBC that all their male employees are prizes (that would be an unfair hiring policy). Nor am I saying that there are no quality gents outside this Crown Corporation. I’ve just noticed a trend. I have several platonic male friends and acquaintances in various positions in both radio and television. They are all individuals I would place at the hotter end of the spectrum. I've also had a few random run-ins with some more employees that have only proved my point further. Examples: 1) Last month I ran into the first boy I ever had a schoolgirl crush on way back when I was just a girl in school. He’d recently moved to town for work-related reasons. Guess where he works. 2) On the 23rd, I was working as a deputy returning officer for the federal election. A certain hip young TV host, who for legal reasons must remain nameless, came in to vote. I can tell you that he just darn near charmed the figurative pants off me and especially my 18-year-old poll clerk. 3) Why, just this very afternoon I went down to the very building that houses this empire of entertainment and information. It was my intention to purchase two sets of 1 inch pins of retro CBC logos, one for myself, the other for Boo. (I thought that my Hudson’s Bay coat really needed a little something-something to make it look even more CANADIAN.) I walked into the shop and was assisted with my purchase by the most darling creature, a mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he chattered eagerly and earnestly about his love of Radio One.

My research is still incomplete, as there are more variables to examine and more tests to be conducted. But I know I’m not the only one sensing something special about the CBC. I’ve seen “I (heart) Peter Mansbridge” t-shirts for sale in a hip downtown ladies’ boutique and know a young woman who sports a heart-shaped “David Suzuki” badge; maybe there really is something to my theory about public broadcasting and attractiveness. If you know of any information that might help further my studies, let me know. As for now, this is my observation and I’m sticking to it.

Thanks CBC. Thanks very much.

Breakfast of Champions

Good morning,

Every time I’m in the grocery store, I always take a minute to glance wistfully at the elegant tin of Irish steel cut oats on the top shelf of the “health food” section. They exude an aura of ancient heartiness. I imagine myself as some sort of historical homemaker ladling out bowlfuls of thick gruel to stick to my family’s ribs when they leave the coziness of our thatched cottage to go off to an honest day’s work across the foggy moor. The only thing that has prevented me from living out this fantasy, beyond the lack of thatching, moors and family members in my daily life, has been the prohibitive cost of the can of oats. The oats in the cardboard box are half as expensive, but 90% of the charm and desirability of the oats in the tin is the tin itself. I had a friend who’d saved the oat tin to keep his pencils in and, boy howdy, did it ever look classy. Yup, there sure is something special about that traditional lettering telling of how John McCann’s oats won the award at the International Exhibition in Philadelphia from the Centennial Commission in 1876. Good golly, that tin sure would look swell sitting on my kitchen shelf…

It really does. I can say that with absolute certainty since I broke down yesterday and bought the tin of oats. I figured I deserved the fancy tin and would eventually buy it anyway. Oooh, I boiled me up a mess of porridge this morning with brown sugar and a drizzle of pure Quebecois maple syrup.

It was a wise choice.