Losers on Bloor Street

I survived. I should've realized what I was getting into this morning, when a girl I barely know, rushed into my elevator at work, all aglow with flushed cheeks, and breathlessly proclaimed, "You should go!"

What was she talking about? Go? Go where? I looked down and saw a black shopping bag inscribed with loud white block letters. WINNERS ON BLOOR STREET! I gasped, as I felt the first wave of consumerism wash over me. I ran out of the elevator, and into my office, and grabbed my friend S.

We actually LEFT WORK to run across the street. In the 3 block walk to the store, we passed TV trucks from CITYtv and CTV, gaggles of girls running (no joke) towards the store arm in arm, and a woman waving her baby around in the air as she pointed frantically at the entrance to the store. We were greeted by hot men in suits, saying good morning and quietly ushering us in with the rest of the hens crowding the door.

The calmness ended there. Inside, was sheer pandemonium. Everywhere I looked, there were women (and gay men), tossing around sweaters, pants, shoes and jackets. In between the racks of clothes, people were in various states of undress as they tried on a silk blouse or pulled on a pair of boots. They rushed the jewellery counter, like teeny boppers in the front row of an N'Sync concert.

I glared at someone pushing a shopping cart through the aisle. I watched in terror, as a mother desperately shielded her baby from the flailing arms of the women around her. Watch out! I thought, as a red sweater flew by, nearly hitting her in the head.

I turned to my friend S. and mouthed, "We gotta get outta here," and we turned and fled, running for our lives.....

...but not before I picked up the cutest little silver bag!