FFWD Weekly
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Media by FFWD Staff A couple of months back, a writer for the Globe & Mail carried out a small experiment: he and a friend attempted to live off the contents of a hotel mini bar. After eight or nine hours, they staggered downstairs, suitably drunk and suffering from third degree malnutrition. Interesting but hardly surprising, as anyone who’s tried to survive on even real hotel food will attest. Still, it got me thinking and I decided to run my own experiment. Since he retired last year, hockey icon Wayne Gretzky has loaned his good name to an ever-increasing range of products, few of which seem to have anything to do with the game itself. This caused me to wonder: was Gretzky perhaps promoting an entire lifestyle rather than just a random series of items? To test this hypothesis, I recently embarked on an endeavour to subsist solely on goods endorsed by The Great One. Here is my story. 06:00: The alarm goes off and I wake up. Day 1. As usual, I head downstairs and make for the coffee pot. There next to it is a packet of Folgers coffee. M’mmmm good. I know, ’cause Wayne has given Folgers the thumbs up. 06:30: As I slurp the brew, my thoughts turn to breakfast and I open the kitchen cupboard. Ah – the mother lode! Wayne has seen fit to give his backing to virtually every cereal on the market, it seems. Cheerios, Shreddies, Miniwheats, and something rather dubious looking called Alphabits (with or without marshmallows). If you had a mind to – plus the digestive system of your typical ruminant – you could get by simply on the various puffed wheatery backed by Wayne. This is going to be easier than I thought.... 07:00: Get dressed. Fortunately, Wayne has his own entire line of clothing at the Bay, so this is no problem. Admittedly, I look like a cross between the Moffats and some third-rate hockey player in my "casual but stylish" jacket-and-pants, but I can live with that. More unfortunately, Wayne has yet to give the OK to his own brand of underwear, an oversight of hygiene and considerable discomfort, as I find out as the day wears on. 07:30: I head off for work. On the way, I see the car is running low on gas and so pull over at a nearby Esso station. Yep, there’s Wayne, grinning as usual alongside Tony the Tiger (or is that the Frosted Flakes one?). Anyhow, after filling up I also decide to purchase a newspaper, some gum, a couple of doughnuts for later and some air freshener (strictly for the car, I know, but spring’s here and the house needs airing out). Perhaps Wayne didn’t exactly endorse all these items, but I figure they legitimately fall within the Esso empire, so I’m happy. 12:00: Time for lunch. Off to the local McDonald’s to snack down on a Gretzky burger or two, washed down with lashings of Coke. (OK, I’m not sure whether Wayne still endorses the fizzy stuff, but if he doesn’t now it can only be a matter of time before he will again). Back to the office where, thanks to Folgers once more, I enjoy an après-dejeuner cup of coffee. I’m all set for the afternoon. 18:00: Back at home, I’m feeling guilty about all the crap I’ve eaten so far. Luckily, Wayne’s also put his name to something called Project Planet, a sustainable energy project by TransAlta which has helped a couple of kiddies to grow carrots in manure. They taste a bit funny, I must say, but still the sensation of real vitamins flowing through my system is welcome. 19:00: Revitalized, I spend an enjoyable evening playing various plastic hockey games, each one bearing Wayne’s happy photo. Later, as night draws in, I flip through one of my many "authorized" biographies of The Great One, a relaxing end to the day. 23:30: Ouch. The excess salt ’n’ sugar of my Wayne-based diet has given me a splitting headache and I can’t sleep. I stumble into the bathroom in search of relief and, lo & behold, find a bottle of Tylenol. Hooray! the man has thought of everything. I wash down a couple of pills (with more Coke, of course) and return to bed. 12:01: As Day 2 of my experiment begins, I ponder what’s next. What won’t Canada’s greatest ever hockey player endorse? Is there anything he won’t give his name to? Judging by the evidence so far, I suspect not. Slipping into sleep, that last thought gives me an idea. Given the promiscuous corporate whore Wayne’s become over the past year, surely it’s only fitting that he should eventually endorse his own sexual lubricant. After all, you can’t spell Gretzky without KY....

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