A person can get a lot of shit done in 113 minutes, we are talking about over an hour and a half. Here’s small sampling of activities you can partake in lieu of watching Even Money:

• a few loads of laundry
• 4 rounds of eating at the Indian buffet
• read about 5 chapters of “The Satanic Verses” (or equivalent)
• a solid power nap
• walk 15 km
• fill 20 pages with obscene doodles
• spooning with your wonderful wife

I think you get my gist. Even Money is one of those Hollywood ensemble cast flicks that is more flash than substance. The only one that I recall that was able to entertain was Pulp Fiction. The cast was loaded with multiple big screen stars such as…Forest Whitaker, Kim Basinger, Kelsey Grammer, Danny Devito, Carla Gugino, Ray Liotta and Tim Roth. And they all stank. I will offer a gift of condolences to the director, and not mention him by birth name.
For those of you poor souls that are reading this AFTER seeing this movie. I will not steal any more moments from your life. Suffice it to say, almost all the actors phoned in their performances, but granted they were working some supremely mediocre writing. The dialogue was mind numbing. Who’s to blame? Me! I felt it was a dud from the get-go. No theatrical release, straight to DVD. Huge red flag for a movie with so many actors. Still, I walked it up to the counter and traded cash for it. Idiot!

I rarely react outwardly when watching movies, but near the end when Kelsey Grammer’s character was waxing some inane lesson of morality, I actually said, “Oh, shut the hell up…”. To the TV, I said this. I turned off the player before the voice-over was done and I grumbled to myself about losing 2 hours of life as I slouched to bed.

Learn from my mistake. Spread the word.

Hey there! Over here. Here. Little to the left. A little more…Hey! For a second there, I totally thought that you were ignoring us. Weird huh? Sooo…how are things?

Super.

Everyone working on their PDCs? I know you are, because I have noticed a remarkable difference when I watch the action outside our offices with my high powered telephoto lens. Keep workin’ on them, everyone is doing great.

The summer has been good to us at the Center for Human Zenetics™. Since merging resources with Jumboshrimp, our enrolment has tripled — sure both my parents moved out of the communal tents, but they don’t get it. Not like you guys, you guys get it. That’s the bad news. Good news for the rest of the ‘family’ in the commune, no more crazy asian screaming matches during Wheel of Fortune! On another note, people are really noticing a difference since allowing Human Zenetics into their lives. And that warms our cockles. Feel them, they’re super toasty feeling.

Before we get rolling, just to update everyone who is anxious about the upcoming “Tour de Awesome” seminars: our interns have been busy finalizing the program. They are ‘cutting the fat’ so to speak. Attendees can expect a lean, green life-affirming machine when our tour rolls into your neck of the woods. Our emissions rate will be somewhere between a U2 European concert tour and Oprah’s Travelling Bookclub. Let’s just say we keep pretty good company. Our carbon footprint will be down a very respectable value, once our pesky interns are done. Who says you have to pay salaries to get results? Really. Who said that, because I wouldn’t mind face-punching them for a wee bit for tipping off the local 420 labour union. Lol, I keed I keed.

SERIOUSLY LABOUR WATCHDOGS, OUR INTERNS ARE VERY HAPPY. THERE IS NO NEED TO HAVE A JOB SITE INSPECTION TO CHECK CONDITIONS AND EMPLOYEE WEIGHT LEVELS.

With all that ugliness out of the way. Can I get to the part where I get to share our latest offering? While we know that the path to enlightenment is a long drawn-out journey, we can’t ignore the fact that we are living in a fast and hairy world. To appease both you (valuable supporters) and our share holders, we have come up with a compromise. We have created a new section of the site. Think of this as a bite-sized treat from the official Guide to Happy™.

Say hello to Ask the Crustacean! — our resident advice arthropod. Everyone at the office goes to this guy for tips, ranging on small engine repair to dating etiquette. We thought—Shit, there has to be a way to monetize this little guy. And of course there is. But we are still holding true to our mantra of…while cheap is good, free is better. That means Ask the Crustacean! will be free. All Day. Every day. Free? Yes. Free. What about weekends? FREE. How about holidays? FREE. OK enough! I really didn’t think we were gonna spend so much time about this FREE thingy.

Moving on.

While his stature is small, his wisdom knowns no bounds. And did I mention the wit! If Bob Saget ever made it with a prawn, this dude would be their love-child. Suffice it to say that he’s kind of a big deal.

Ask the Crustacean! will be published in a semi-regular bi-weekly schedule (subject to change without notice). Here’s a preview of some sage-iosity!

Dear ’shrimp,

I am a 35 year old female executive, I consider myself intelligent and not lacking in the cushion for the pushin’ department. You know the deal…my professional success has left me deficient in the relationship department. I am sick of girl’s night. Where can a girl like me meet the right guy. Hook a sister up!

— What’s a girl gotta do?

Hey girl,

If I had a penny every time one of my lady friends laments about how they sacrificed their social life for career, I’d be able to wrap my exoskeleton in Harry Winston jewels…meaning I hear it a lot. I’m gonna tell you what I tell them. It goes something like this:

Tell me about this fantasy world that you have been living in? Where a woman (or anyone) can achieve everything her (or his) hearts desire. The career. The house. The family. The love of their life. The ability to dunk a basketball. Etc, etc. You see, life is about balances, and achieving success in any realm requires that you are dedicated towards that specific endeavour. That means you have to pick. If you want a relationship now, you are going to have to sacrifice your work. I am not saying to jump off the corporate ladder, maybe just stay at your current rung. What about those people who have everything and are happy? To that I say this: Those people are liars. They are either lying or secretly unhappy, or a combination of. The human animal is not capable on focusing on so many different things and being successful at them all. It’s your whole processing gases via nose/lungs. Way too energy sapping. Crustaceans on the hand, we breathe through gills. It helps us focus big time. We’re good at everything. Therefore, you should call me this weekend. Oh, and try that whole love yourself more dealio, I hear that helps project a more attractive image. Or at least that what my girl Tyra says.

P.S. A picture with this note would have helped your cause large.

J’shrimp

That’s just a cocktail sampling of Ask the Crustacean! If you require advice on anything (we mean anything), shoot the him an email at askthecrustacean@gmail.com. Letters will be published on this site at a completely random rate. We can not promise your confidentiality and or anonymity.

An important economic summit just took place at a resort near Ottawa this past week. At the top of the agenda, were discussions relating to the North American Free-Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and border security. The circus event had the usual suspects of freaks and geeks. Journalist across the globe swooped into this sleeping Capital for some piss and vinegar. The inter-webs is currently bubbling with chatter pertaining to this video and accusations of the use of agents provocateurs during the confrontation between protesters and riot cops. But nowhere in the traditional media has anyone mentioned another atrocity witnessed during the summit. The blogalaxy has been equally silent.

Please direct your gaze at the 3 yahoos pictured below.

We are accessible and transparent and you will know this by our open collars.

Notice anything disturbing?

Two freakin’ words. Casual. Friday. The usually respectable universe of global politics infiltrated by wrinkled cotton pants and open collared shirts. This makes me ill.

Since the mid ’80s, this war of attire has been raging in the business world. Now it has to trickled down into every institution known to man. Is nothing sacred?! Initially funded by golf shirts and Dockers® khakis special interest groups, this ‘casual’ assault had turned the corporate world on its head. Employees foregoing the time honoured traditional garb for their weekend best, if you can call it that. In outfits usually reserved for buying bbq supplies or eating 3 lbs. of honey mustard chicken wings, corporate board rooms started resembling the rom-com aisle at your local video store.

The rationale was simple and relatively innocent, workers are to adhere to a strict dress code the first four work days. Friday is a time for employees to let their hair down. This is the part where in lieu of a raise or a bonus, you get a relaxed work environment. At first glance, how can this be a bad thing? Wrinkled cotton chinos equals fun. And who doesn’t like fun?

You can tell this was a brainchild after some human resources weekend seminar. At first, this movement meant leaving your tie at home for the men, and for you ladies, maybe a pair of sneakers to go along with that smart skirt suit. Then came the ’90s, and the rules of Casual Friday became much more lenient. Now, you wouldn’t even blink if Brian from Finance came into a meeting sporting shorts and a ‘My other ride is your mom’ t-shirt. Classy. Hey, there’s Lois with her barely there tank-top and flip-flops. It must be Friday!

Like the ideals of socialism, a once promising concept has gone horribly wrong. Casual Friday has slowly crept into the rest of the week. Somewhere along the line, buttons, ironing boards and a general feeling of self-worth became the enemy. Currently (at least at my work), the attire is beyond casual. It is more like Hobo Friday (though the rest of the week ain’t too pretty either), pants of differing varieties of elastic waistbands and t-shirts are the norm. Don’t even get me started with the ever popular Canadiana Line — animal graphics set to a lovely black poly-cotton backdrop. I understand what ’suits’ communicate to the regular bystander. Strict. Unwavering. Serious. But I ask you — Is this really a bad thing? Of course casual attire makes sense in certain sectors or job sites. If your job involves heavy lifting or prolonged exposure to the elements, you’re in. If you work in an office with other adults, sorry you are going to have to spend more than 10 minutes dressing. Come on, you deserve to give yourself that extra 15 minutes of prep time. It’s for your own good, that raise or corner office you covet might be on the line.

My main point of annoyance isn’t directly towards poorly dressed office drones. While it may be an eye sore, it doesn’t keep me awake at night. I do have major issues with politicians using Casual Friday as a PR ploy. They may think it’s a great idea from their team of stylists and image makers, I am not buying it. I don’t think it’s folksy and it doesn’t make them seem like regular joes. I expect — no, I demand — that leaders of nations dress appropriately. In fact, even minor politico players should get into this whole dressing properly thingy. The image of José, Steve, and George says this to me: I follow rather than lead. I don’t care either way but my PR team thinks this is a good idea.

Special note to current and aspiring heads of states, if you are conducting talks that has global repercussions, I want to see suits, ties and good shoes. They don’t have to be Saville Row 3-piece numbers, heck you can score 5 suits at Moore’s for a sack of nickels.

While I may not petition for a ban on Casual Friday, I won’t hinder the recent backlash either. News flash: Stuffy shirts are back in kids! Some offices have outlawed Causal Friday all together. Why? They want to present a more professional corporate culture. And you’re saying a stained t-shirt with the words, ‘No Fat Chicks’ doesn’t exude professionalism. That’s a shocker. Hopefully, this memo makes its round by this coming Monday, but I am not holding my breath.

A perfect capp’ to the evening

Let’s face the facts, this fair city of ours is known by a few not-too-flattering statements. Ottawa is a nothing but a government town. Strip-mall/parking lot haven. Where trends/fun/style go to die. If cities were colour coded, Ottawa would be beige. Do I really need to go on? Some are well-deserved, while others are slowly losing their grip on the city’s already mildly bruised ego. Well you can go ahead and add culinary mecca to this notable list. No longer will motorists on the 401 lean forward on the gas pedal as they bypass our little town en route to Montréal. People even flocking here for a tasty morsel or two, what a concept!

While we cannot compete with other metropolitan centres such as Montréal, Toronto or Vancouver for their flare in fashion, entertainment, business and all-around haute chic — where was I going with this — right, there is a little gem of a restaurant that has catapulted Ottawa’s rep as an excellent choice to stuff your gullet, and wash that palette.

Beckta, is housed in…well in a house, a lovely multi-story abode which exudes warmth and charm. While the exterior of the resto says Victorian, its interior is decidedly Mediterranean. A muted palette of colours and finishes offers an overall tranquil setting for some good ‘ol fashion eatin’. Taking its name from its owner, Stephen Beckta, who had cut his teeth in the industry both here and abroad gave this fledgling eatery instant recognition.

Since opening its doors in 2003, Beckta immediately became the place to dine in the city. Enjoyed by luminaries, dignitaries and regular Ottawans just like us. While it had been on our radar, we had not made a trip as yet. Sure we heard the chatter on the street, and we saw the Food Network show documenting their opening, but we still had not made our way down there. But all that changed last week. On that fateful evening, we arrived for our 7:30 pm reservations, ready for a night of slow eating.

From the moment we took our seats, time seemed to ebb forward at a slower pace. Tristan, our main server constantly assured us to take our time and that the night was young and we are in no need to rush any decision/action. Instructions that we took to heart, total dining time…3+ hours. It was a lovely evening of wine, food and conversation. I hear this slow-eating practice is still going strong in regions found outside of North America. How novel!

Since this was our maiden voyage, and we didn’t bring our thinking caps, we placed our lives in Beckta’s capable hands. With a glint in your eye, and a flutter in our chest, we went with the 5 course Tasting Menu along with its wine pairing. Meaning, that the chef Michael Moffat will prepare five selections from the current menu, each course accompanied by a wine selected by Stephen Beckta.

Tell me that doesn’t sound like fun.

This is the dining equivalent to speed dating. The portions are smaller, so you are not committed to the traditional entrée sizes. Perfect for new friends exploring each other. If you liked something, great, and if it didn’t tickle your fancy, also great. But very much unlike speed dating, at the tail end of the evening we were left satisfied and yearning for another encounter. While the pricing may intimidate some, it is well worth the investment.

With each passing course, we savoured each bite, and every sip. Allowing the ingredients to react and interact, setting off synapses in our taste buds. There was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited. During the eating segments of our evening, our conversation of geopolitics and self-discovery was reduced into single prolonged sounds of ‘mmm…ooh…goooood…

The ingredients were fresh, the presentation was impeccable and the marriage of certain dishes with its wine was bold. We only had one course that I thought was pedestrian, but I’m being petty. With each passing course, our expectations were getting loftier and loftier. The Seared Digby Scallops would be the part in the party where someone was changing the vinyl. A little hiccup, but not that big of a deal.

One can not write about Beckta without saluting their utmost dedication to service. Everyone we encountered throughout our ‘stay’ was friendly, knowledgeable and professional. And it is this ardent commitment to customer service that is Beckta’s brightest star. Sure, you can have a world class menu and wine cellar, but it is the human element that creates a joyous ambience. The employees seem to be passionate about their work. You can sense the pride in their manner and decorum. That you cannot fake. Stephen Beckta is rightly recognized for his skills as a sommelier and restauranteur, but he is also adept as a people manager. He has seemed to surround himself with a staff that reflects his passion and pride. And that is the real success of this little restaurant with a big heart.

Bravo Beckta. We should see each other again, soon.

With the advent of Facebook, Twitter, Jaiku and their ilk, any Joe’smo can have their whereabouts tracked on the inter-webs. The ‘do-no-evil’ scientists at Google just added another weapon to the stalker arsenal. Say hello to Street View. The masses were screaming for this function since Google Map came out of the oven. I am sure we will now scream to have it removed in the near future.

Hello? Ever heard of this little nagging pain in Freedom’s tummy called the ‘War on Terror’?

It is as cool as it is scary. Do yourself a favour, and poke around, click and drag to your heart’s content. Is was unveiled yesterday at the O’Reilly Where 2.0 Conference. Forgive them for the unfortunate conference name. Only a few cities have been added thus far, but undoubtedly the entire world will be mapped by noon Friday. I highly recommend viewing the Vegas skyline.

I am counting down the weeks where I can watching myself pee on Google Map, that would be epic.

Hey everybody! Feeling rested? Wasn’t yesterday awesome? Well, it’s today, the first day of your Human Zenetic™ life.

Throughout this process, I will present you with small chunks of info that I have coined a Life-Block, which will form the foundation that you will use to build a happier daily existence. Isn’t that cute? Cute yes, but also dead serious. The themes will include the seemingly trivial to the grandiose. We will work on the horizontal plane, where each nugget of knowledge will be intrinsically related, even though their immediate correlation won’t be apparent.

Each Life-Block can be applied individually or stringed together, kind of like those necklaces you used to make in summer camp, yeah just like those, but way less lame. Oh yeah, there won’t be any grading, and coloured belts won’t be given at each successful interval. Growth can’t be measured by framed certificates or gold star stickers silly. I know a lot of you enjoy the constructs of your current existence — a rigid structure laced with time-tested methods and results. Tell me…How the heck is it working out for you so far? (I kind of stole this from that Texan rose Dr. Phil, he won’t mind.) Go on, I’m all ears. So far, you are usually left feeling disappointed and inept. Well you’re finish with that.

Everything I offer, you can take or leave, but I hope you do TAKE, I got way too much lying around inside my huge cranium. I have probably lost some of you already. It’s ok, you’re just not ready yet. You guys should go here, and find some over-packaged temporary semblance of happiness — we’ll talk later. The rest of you, continue reading.

Ok, without further explanatory statements and or justifications (please refer to most previous post) to my qualifications. Roll up or rip off those sleeves, do whatever you do to show the world that you’re ready to do work. Human Zenetics™ starts…right…now.

They say happiness is a state of mind, but it requires physical interpretation also. I am referring to one of those manifestations, the other lesser known silent killer. Let’s talk about PDCs — watyoutalkinbout’willis!? I’m talking about Public Displays of Celebration…er, Willis.

PDCs can make and it can break a relationship. I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it. It’s couples bowling night again, one partner hits a strike or spare or whatever — I hate bowling but indulge me for a moment. Like I said, someone makes a nice bowl, and they turn to their loved one and in celebration, they go in for the high five. The time-space continuum slows down, it’s like watching a car getting t-boned at an intersection. Everyone cringes and turns away, and no one can react fast enough to stop it. What happens? Usually, both completely misses each other’s hands, maybe the timing or the angle is off. Maybe one partner was thinking high ten, resulting in an odd exchange as both individuals try to compensate and mime out what can only be described as air push-ups or a bank hold-up. In the worse case scenario, both are obviously delirious in wanting to end this embarrassment so they can only muster a pathetic grasping of both hands as they shake violently. Think Tom Cruise vs Oprah Winfrey.

Whatever the case, it’s sad. The results can only be public humiliation, completely negating the actual positive achievement that called for the PDC in the first place. It says that we as union of two individuals have a total lack of cohesion, communication and self-awareness.

What do they get wrong? They didn’t practice. Parallel parking, you’d practice — same with baking a lemon meringue pie, so why not this? They assumed that everyone is on the same PDC page. But the PDC play book is voluminous and diverse. You got everything to the standard high/low 5 to the chest bump all the way to the elaborate 21 hit combo ending with the six-shooters to the sky. As a novice, I suggest you aim low. Keep it simple and you will undoubtedly avoid humiliation and or injury. The advanced PDCs is best left for college roomies and lodge buddies.

So which PDC is right for you? That I do not know, for a leopard can not ask the elephant to pick its spots. You will have to learn and grow, and feel it out. DO NOT FORCE THE ISSUE. You might be thinking — hey jerk-face, save us the Zen crap about leopards and spots and tell us what you do?

Ok, first off I don’t appreciate the animosity. But I can understand your exuberance. I like your moxie. As for my partner and I, we were lucky. Without much discussion or ground work, we settled on what is often referred to as the ‘Silent Scholar’. Think a clap with no sound or catching a butterfly. If one person starts high, then other immediately goes low. This is the important part. High always initiates the motion and contact. Low just plays it real cool and waits for the action. But it is silent, you are trapping the butterfly, not crushing it to smithereens. The Silent Scholar is demure and polite, it doesn’t call for attention. Just the way we like it. Sometimes when things are really awesome, we upgrade to the Southside Slide. This starts as the Silent Scholar but the ‘Low’ meets the ‘High’ at the last moment and pulls in for some skin. It’s a wee more flash for your dollar. But is it right for you? Search your heart.
Some of you are saying, great tip; but I am single, I have no one to celebrate with. To you I say this, I have seen groups of beer swilling, hardcore sports buddies completely muck-up the post- touchdown or 360 windmill dunk celebration. Hey, you just got an ‘A’ on mid-term…PDC! What? Your dad woke up from his coma? I am gonna go ahead and order up a PDC! PDCs affect all of us. And practicing or developing your own standard move will strengthen any relationship. Having a set game plan for your PDCs allows you to traverse that crucial moment with confidence and ease, and it allows you to roll on through to the good times.

Will either of those techniques mentioned earlier work for you? Tough call. Again, I suggest you try before you buy. There will be no hand-holding through out our journey together, I am only providing you with these different yarns, but the onus will be on you to knit that beautiful technicolour sweater-vest that is your life. Isn’t that a superb analogy?

No? Try this one on. I will serve you these how-to edibles, but you have to chew, and digest it yourself. Better?

OK (insert your name), you were great. Get out there, remember to keep it simple and have some fun!

Hey everyone, how are things? Good good. Interested in knowing how it can get even better?

I totally knew you would be.

Ok, Let me explain…I have been successfully married for about 7 months now, and before that I was in 4 separate long-term relationships with an average life-span of 3.15 years. I am 31 years of age, so you do the math. OK, don’t bother, that equals me being super knowledgeable about the world of dating and relationships. So I figured, hey every ‘mo out there is dishing out advice like it was going out of fashion. Why not me? You got your books, your dvds, your audio tapes, your gurus, your Montel Williams, etc. etc. Everyone and their cousin Leonard is an ‘expert’. Go ahead and roll your eyes. Heck, I just heard Dr. Phil McGraw isn’t even a real doctor. I know — crazy! Anyways, everyone is capitalizing on it. People are desperate and telephone psychics costs money. But now here, and not now. I am doing this for free. Why? Because I like you. And I mean a lot.

Put down that Chicken Soup for the Soul and prepare yourself for some good old learnin’! Welcome to Jumboshrimp and the Guide to Happy (lawyers are ironing out the copyright details as we speak, so don’t even think of stealing that awesome name). I thought about giving it a more relationship-specific title, like ‘You and your first mate: What happens when the ship goes down’. But let’s be honest, it was stupid and not everybody appreciates a nautical theme. Then it hit me, I am moderately knowledgeable about tons of stuff. Why not share all of it? Gosh, I wish I was one of you. Lucky!

Ok, before I crack my head open and show you all the meaty know-how locked inside. I want to get some things clear. That’s just how I roll dawgs. I want utter transparency — you mean that much to me. I am a professional of Human Zenetics™, professional in the sense that I have the ability to print my own business cards and I kind of made up this field of practise about 5 minutes ago. Google returned with zero results for: human zenetic. It is that new and revolutionary. Do you know how many episodes of the View dealt with this subject, how about a fat zero.

Don’t be alarmed, relax and put down your notepad and that fancy image capturing device of yours. I will present these tiny morsels of genius is small edible chunks. Any expert worth their salt knows that the path to personal development and fulfilment is a slow and steady jog and not a mad dash with your arms flailing all over the place.

Before I continue, you might want to check some email or watch a lovely pet video on Youtube. I am going to need you to focus when we do some work. Better yet, get off the inter-webs and go play outside for a little bit.

Go on. Go.

From the dry deserts of Las Vegas to mean streets of Ottawa

Everyone Tom, Dick and Mary talks about it. From one-man outfits working out of their aunt Helen’s basements to multi-national corporate giants that span continents, they all profess it. Customer service is their middle name.

Oh really?

If it’s worked into their marketing spiel, it must be true. Laugh it up Madison Ave ad weasels — you got us good. Sadly, even more commonplace than these golden carrots held tenuously over the slobbering consuming masses are the stories of either poor customer service or a complete lack there of. Of course, this is nothing new. Entities like the Consumerist would not have flourished, if this wasn’t the case. On a daily basis, there are countless posts about blue ribbon cases of poor, I mean horrendous adventures in customer service. Indifference is the ultimate sin, a disregard for relationship building can end even the best whirlwind consumer/merchant love affair. Are you listening Bell Canada? Don’t go snickering Rogers and Royalbank Visa…you are ass to me also.

While stories, posts and blogs about shitty experiences are rampant all over this thing we call the internet. This ain’t one of them. You heard right. Zappos, ready your upper back/shoulder region for full patting action.

I recently made my first purchase on zappos.com — before I begin, here’s a back story (that may or may not add any insight). At the tender age of 12, I was diagnosed as a sneaker-freak…prognosis…negative. It’s a life-long battle. My mom cried and we stopped attending public events. But with hard work I was able to finish school, find a steady job and eventually found a mate. Good things.

OK, back on course, so I heart shoes and I have attempted to buy some online without much success thus far. With the advent of the online shopping experience brought a plethora of retailers ready to take my hard-earned cash money, most of them American — no surprise there. I found out quickly that Canada is a shipping no man’s land like Puerto Rico, Hawaii and Alaska. Usually I had to pay extra duties and shipping that made the entire buying experience lose some luster. So footwear aficionado meet zappos.com, online merchant meet disposal income. Their website was well built, categorized in a orderly fashion, great user feedback for sizing/fit and don’t even get me started about their search. Let’s just say that it had me at ‘men + 9.5 + hightops’. While I breezed though its diverse catalogue, the actual buying screeched to a halt upon check-out. Damned by my Canadian address, I decided to ring them up for a taste of their self-proclaimed legendary customer service skills. They are after all, Powered by Service™, it’s true. That’s their slogan. Big red flag in my books. Service could very well be the e-commerce engine they use or the name of their catering truck. A marketing trick no doubt. And the site was loaded with customer testimonials. Another red flag. Anyone can throw empty testimonials around. Watch.

‘Jumboshrimp was fast and courteous when they fixed my septic tank. I recommend them for all your sewer related needs.’
Denise
Housewife
Albuquerque NM

Wasn’t that easy?

So I dialled them up — ready for some mass confusion and annoyance. I got Dolores within 2 rings. Two! I wish that everyone could get a dash of Dolores in the lives. I asked her if it was possible to pay with a Canadian credit card but then have the item shipped to a my sister in Connecticut (who would be visiting me in a few days with shoes in tow). Surely that would grind the entire operation to a dead-stop! ‘No problem, sugar’ was her answer. I liked her calling me sugar. Usually I didn’t, but it felt nice. Within minutes my transaction was complete, Dolores repeated every detail to assure its correctness, including free overnight shipping and a free 365 day return policy. As in no charge — zilch.

While waiting for the email confirmation to drop into my mailbox, Dolores and I chatted about the weather (snow in Ottawa vs. sunshine in Las Vegas). I told her I was there 5 years ago for business, she invited me back to see how much things have changed. It was a delightful exchange. Short and friendly. The fateful email arrived, my order has been shipped is says. Sure it has I thought. I know about the status games you online entities play. I would be ecstatic if the shoes arrived within 5 days. Finally Dolores and I had to part ways. She asked me if there is anything else I needed assistance with. I told her I loved her. Seriously. She laughed and then gave me a most genuine salutation I have ever received in my entire telephony history. One pair of crisp white hightops later, Dolores become family.

Dolores, you are a testament to the Zappos credo. A real pleasure to deal with, Zappos you hold on to this woman, youhearme? So now, when I am ever greeted with a smug indifference across a counter or a telephone I calmly state. You….are no Dolores.

The following morning , I received an email from my sister saying that a package has arrived. Mind boggling! I made the order at 9 pm EST. It arrived at 8:30 am EST the following morning. Does this make sense to anyone? Does Zappos have access to some sort of teleportation technology? This is the norm evidently, Zappos didn’t make up their testimonials. I believe. I believe. It was secure, and pain free. All the things you want in an online buying experience. If only buying mortgages and insurance, or a donut for that matter was so delightful. Make it happen people of Zappos.

Since the 2 weeks that I the shoes arrived, Zappos has launched a Canadian version. It has only a quarter of the inventory and there are shipping fees. Not too impressive, but I am sure they are working on its improvements as I type. But if you pick up the phone, you still win the customer service lottery that is Zappos. Friend of the consumer near and far…

Important: I have no personal or financial affiliation to Zappos.com and or its employee-extraordinaire Dolores. I was more than ready to be utterly disappointed by this buying experience. But I have to give praise where it is due. Zappos talks and walks like a duck. Indeed.

Not an actual photo of Team Basketcases

Let it be known that in the year of our Lord, two-thousand and seven, on the eleventh day of the fourth month, during the nineteenth hour, the tranquil city of Ottawa, Canada grabbed the world of athletics by its nutsack and exclaimed — I own you bitch. No truer words have ever been spoken. With a clutch and a half-twist, sport followers sat up and took notice.

Regardless of event or activity, this city produces winners — no, dare I say CHAMPIONS.

I present to the members of the jury, Exhibit ‘A’:

Team ‘Basketcases’ of the Alcatel Basketball League. Go ahead and enjoy the hilarious wordplay in the team name. I’ll wait. All season long, this fun-loving gang of jump shooters played with conviction and moxie. They weren’t paid, they didn’t have matching uniforms and except for the janitorial staff and few loiterers…they didn’t even have fans. What they lacked in shoe endorsements and fan adoration, they made up in passion. They played each and every game for the world, they played for the young, the old, the infirmed. They played for every goddam man, woman, child. Don’t worry, they had enough heart for everyone.

The season reached an apex with the championship finals against the ‘X-men’. Team Basketcases had been decimated with injuries and lost of 2 key team members for the entire play-offs. It didn’t look good for our guys. Only 5 players were on hand for the final game, against 11 on the side of the X-men. If betting was allowed in the Alcatel League, the Vegas line on Basketcases would have been downright sad. It would have be a fool’s bet. From tip-off to the final buzzer. The teams were neck and neck. The X-men’s game plan was simple, run these guys to the ground. Surely, Team Basketcases didn’t have the physical stamina to maintain their play the entire 60 minutes. Or did they? At the half way mark, trailing by 4 points, the lads of Basketcases willed their way back into the game. With sheer grit, they transformed the deficit into a 10 point lead. Someone call the Vatican, a miracle took place in Ottawa last night. Like two heavyweights exchanging kidney shots, the teams battled. Enduring fatigue, bruises and multiple pulled groins, Team Basketcases held on for 4 point victory. A triumphant score of 36 – 32. An ugly eye-gouging, neck-elbowing affair. Every fouling situation in the modern rule book came into play. For a team that averaged 65+ points a game during the season, this was not an exhibition in offencive prowess. Offence may wins fanfare, but defense wins championships. Call it a shout-out to those hallowed Detroit Pistons ‘Bad Boys’ days. Can I get a Bill Laimbeer up in this mother? Words like poetic, and fluidity and beauty will never be used to described this victory. But for the rest of the summer, bragging rights belong to Team Basketcases. Prolly the greatest basketball squad in the Greater Ottawa-Gatineau area (to grace the Alcatel Basketball League). Champions of the League!

If this wasn’t enough to seal the case, I continue by presenting to you Exhibit ‘B‘:

The Ottawa Senators laid the smack down on Sidney Crosby and the Pittsburgh Penguins. The Sens won game 1 of the first round by a 6 - 3 count. Surely on the road to their inaugural Stanley Cup victory. Conversely, a true show of offencive dominance.

And finally, to round out my air-tight argument, may I direct the court’s attention to Exhibit ‘C’:

The Ottawa Lynx (Baltimore Oriole AAA affiliate), fresh from fending off an off-season hostile take-over bid by evil Nolan Ryan. They had to start the season under a cloud of rumours and hearsay. Even with the constant threat of being boxed up and moved out of town looming, the team pulled up their socks, and doubled the Buffalo Bisons 13 – 7 in an early season match-up. Can you say owned?

In conclusion, I have presented to thee the 3-headed sporting behemoth that is Ottawa, Canada. A rabid, prolific winning machine. Let it be known on Wednesday, April 11, 2007 that this city be forever known as the City of Champions.

I rest my case. Game. Set. Match.