Whistla, Whis-town, or whatever you want to call it

Over the weekend, I traded my stilettos for ski boots to head to the hills for a girls-only ski weekend with some of my fave females. Whilst en route, I noticed several touristy types snapping photos of the mountainous scenery as we weaved up the highway to Whistler. Having grown up a mere 30 minutes south of the famed ski resort, I realized how desensitized I had become to its natural beauty. ‘Why are they taking so many photos’, I thought, ‘haven’t you seen mountains and ocean before?’ After a while, it dawned on me that I do live in an exceptionally lovely locale. But wait…just as I was about to get sentimental, I discovered I had gone through all of my champagne road-pops. Ah-ha! Never mind, it was the booze talking.

Having arrived slightly sloshy and ready to ‘get my krunk on’, shall we say, I geared up for a weekend of skiing and debaucherous behavior. While the girls and I hit the town in search of the three B’s - bars, booze, and boys – I quickly noticed the demographic in the night clubs had shifted slightly. Not that I am of Nana status by any means, however, my fellow club-goers, let’s call them ‘krunksters’, seemed to be slightly younger than I remembered.

Upon arrival, I was approached by an attractive young lad who offered to buy me a drink. Lovely! Looks as though this Nana has still got it! Then, he inquired as to how old I was. Having already acquired my cocktail, I replied honestly and proudly to which he replied, ‘Really? Ah, ok…well, have a good night’. What the F.

Next up to bat was one of my foxy friends, who was approached by pre-pubescent hopeful #2. Ok, now we’re talkin’. He sits down next to her, and asks if he can INTRODUCE HER TO HIS FATHER who happens to be leering at us from the bar. Ummm…am I on Punk’d for real this time? Ashton? What the F.

Are my days as a bona fide bar star over, at the ripe old age of 29? Do I need to resort to cougar bars and leopard print hot pants? Come the f*ck on people. Allow me to offer these fellas a tip – don’t write off the gals in the latter part of their 20’s just yet dear krunksters. We could teach you a thing or two.

Aside from the 3 B’s, I was delighted to have a few celebrity sightings to cap off the weekend. Hometown hockey hero and wanted sex god Trevor Linden and I shared a lovely exchange while taking in the annual Big Air competition. Then later, in da club, Canadian R&B singer K-os was making his way in, as I was b-lining out…to which I made a cunning u-turn and stalked him about the bar until I was able to inarticulately introduce myself and try to engage in some sort of intelligent conversation. Nice.

Krunkster - pre-pubescent club-goer
Road-pops – slightly illegal alcoholic travel beverages that are acceptable while consumed on public transport

Bachelor Update: It's all over for my favorite Bachelor tartlet and travel companion, Robin Canfield as she did not receive a rose tonight and therefore has been voted off the show. Sniffle sniffle.

Photo credit - Blackcomb Glacier from the top of Whistler Mountain, Urban Cowgirl