Hello all. I'm back in the city after a refreshing little weekend jaunt in Montreal.
What a fun town. The weather was delightful, the people were charming, the food was magnifique, and the nightlife wasn't bad. There was also a jazz festival going on and we caught a couple of performances. Tres bon.
It's always good to get home though and use my own bathroom. I hate any bathroom but my own, no matter how nice the hotel. Call me crazy, but what can I say, it's just one of my peccadilloes.
We rode the subway up there at one point, and I have to say, as disgusting as the NYC subway can be some times, it actually is pretty comfortable compared to Montreal's, which isn't air conditioned. I guess they don't really have a lot of steaming hot days up there, but this weekend turned out to be pretty hot (high 80s), and there was no A-C! Can I just say oy (I don't know the French for oy or I would use it. Tres oy?)
Also, my traveling companion noticed something quite interesting. (By the way, I told her I don't use real names on the blog unless anyone specifically says to do so, but she didn't even want me to make up a nickname, ala Corky, as she was sure her boss would somehow know it was her. I told her the odds of her boss reading Too Saucy are slim to nil.
Maybe I should call her Lady Voldemort? Anyway, I digress, She Who Must Not be Named noticed something delicious.
She pointed out that an awful lot of the girls in Montreal – who are quite stunning by the way, with amazing figures, and they dress very, very sultry - tight tops, tight jeans, mini skirts, heels - were incredibly buxom. I mean noticably so.
I don't know if it's a clothing thing (they do wear a lot of low-cut tops) and maybe there is also a lot of push-up bras sold there, or maybe it's surgery. But it was hard to miss.
God bless them.
Now I'm back among the land of the flat. Sigh.
Just kidding, gals. It's good to be home.
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