The B List

I don't particularly love the term "bucket list". I didn't see the movie, although that was more about me being afraid I might see Jack Nicholson's ass than it was about the title. Even the idea of it sort of freaks me out, like committing your life wish list to paper tempts the fates to deny you what you most desire.  I'm like a human mini-egg; a crunchy pragmatic shell conceals my soft superstitious centre.

And yet...the act of thinking about what I really want to do in this life has appeal. The list probably shouldn't be filled with dreams that are completely unattainable, nor should there be too many things I could easily accomplish simply by asking for a higher Visa limit. Okay - fetch me a bucket.

1) I want to go on an archaelogical dig in Egypt. Given the political situation there right now, this could be tricky for the next few years. And given my complexion, I might burst into flames. But I've been transfixed by Egyptology since I was about 10 years old; I don't think the fascination is going away. I believe there are programs through universities that let you do this as sort of a "learning vacation" thing. I really hope so, since my actual archaelogical experience is pretty much limited to the time my mother thought the cat had eaten her earrings and was insistent I dig through the litterbox.

2) I want to go to Paris with someone I'm in love with. I've been by myself a few times, and I've been with friends, and I've done all the things one is supposed to do, except kiss someone I'm smitten with in the middle of the Pont Neuf. Sorry, creepy guy in the window of the hotel across the alley a few years ago; you most definitely are not in the running.

3) I would like to bottle feed a baby chimpanzee. I've been fascinated by chimps since I was a kid, thanks to Jane Goodall, and I'd love to hang out with a little one for an afternoon. My job has afforded me some cool opportunites to go behind the scenes with animal caretakers a few times, and I loved every second of it. FYI, baby penguins have total rock star hair.

4) I would like to take a white water rafting trip on the Colorado river. I'm a very weak swimmer, and deep water scares me. But I read a book last year that really made me want to do it. No one died, everyone had fun, and the dog survived. Granted, it was a novel, but they base those on actual events, right?

5) I'd love to be a backup singer on stage at a massive concert. This is probably as unattainable as it gets, given that a) I don't sing, and b) I don't think I can be sufficiently slutty enough to have a band/singer owe me a favour. But I shake a mean tabourine. They could kill my mic and teach me basic finger snap choreography. This would terrify me, but I think it would be such a rush.

6) I want to attend the Oscars. Not necessarily as a nominee, unless that romantic comedy / horror movie I've been meaning to write gets optioned. They green lit "The Dilemma" so it can't be that hard. I don't even have to be inside the Kodak; I think the red carpet experience would be enough.

7) I want to attend a traditional Hawaiian luau. Full on pig in a pit, poi, the whole mele kaliki-mess. If I'm going to do this, though, I totally need to do some situps before I put on a grass skirt.

8) I want to spend an evening in a very high-end restaurant kitchen to see what goes on. Some place like Thomas Keller's Per Se. I've read all of Michael Ruhlman's books, and the descriptions of the pressure during service read like a Tom Clancy novel. It'd also be great to observe a few tricks, since my knife skills could most diplomatically be described as "uneven". How do they get everything so evenly chopped? I just call everything "rustic" so that people to think it's on purpose.

9) I want to be a balloon wrangler for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Ideally, one of the old school balloons, not some character from some show I've never heard of before. I think Big Bird would be bad ass. Can Canadians do this? Or are balloon duties proprietarily American?

10) Speaking of balloons, I really want to take a hot air balloon ride over the Napa Valley while drinking a really good bottle of pinot or a nice sparkling.  I mean a proper hot air balloon, not Big Bird run amok. Perhaps right before convincing one of the Michelin-starred chefs in wine country to let me hang out. I'm pretty sure a windblown drunk is always welcome in high-end kitchens. Or maybe that's specific to Anthony Bourdain.

11) I'd like to take my Dad to a Leafs game. This doesn't sound that hard to accomplish, except my Dad hates to fly, and spending 24 hours in a car together would likely do us both in. I may have to drug him and just tell the flight attendants he's narcoleptic. I'll say this for my Dad - he's loyal to his team. Sometimes even he doesn't understand why. But that could be the narcolepsy.

That's it; that's what's on my bucket list. Sure, there are places I'd like to go, and things I'd like to see, but these are things I want to truly experience. Just so long as Jack Nicholson's ass has nothing to do with it.

It's the little things

I read a hilarious column recently by an engaged guy who revealed some of the moments when he knew a girl was not  "The One". On one occasion, the belief the Ewoks were the best thing about "Star Wars"  was the straw that broke the Wookie's back. It seems that it's often the little things (or, in his case, the little furry things), and not the bigger picture, that make us see the light. And sometimes, the little things become a bigger picture. Sort of a mosaic of assholery. And occasionally, knowing he's not the one can be as obvious as writing on the wall. Or on the piece of paper on his coffee table. The one with the other girl's phone number.   

Not the ones:

1) The guy who calls on a Friday evening to see if you want to come over, but gets your voice mail and leaves a message. You call back less than 20 minutes later. No answer. No return call. You see him bright and early the next morning at your favourite brunch spot. With another girl. Having the Eggs Benedict Arnold, presumably.

2) The guy you've just capped off a great evening with back at his place. While you blow out the candles and clear away the wine glasses, he excuses himself for a moment. You notice the phone cord snaking under the bathroom door. Oddly, the pizza delivery guy doesn't show.

3) The guy who asks someone else to dance during "Stairway to Heaven". Granted, it was grade 9, but even then, I knew.

4) The guy who comes to visit for the first time in ages. You go for drinks, chat, happy to be in each other's company. Then he leans across the table and says "have you ever had someone who just gets under your skin and you can't get them out?" You think "Wow, this is so unexpected. Is he finally going to say it? Remain calm." You say "Yes, I have, actually..." He says "Yeah, this girl I just broke up with, she is..."

5) The guy who invites you to visit for the weekend, then asks you on Sunday morning if you think you can change to an earlier flight, since he has plans to hang out with his ex-girlfriend.

6) The ex-boyfriend who agrees to be your date at an old friend's wedding. Promising, right? Wedding, fancy clothes, romance. Only he didn't tell you he can't stay for the reception, since he has plans back in the city. With the girl he just started seeing. And he's your drive.

7) The guy you've been dating for a month or so who asks out someone else. In front of you.

8) The guy you've been seeing non-exclusively but frequently for a few months. Some mutual friends are getting together, but he can't join you because he has a date. Then he ends up making an appearance. With the date. He asks you if you want to go see a band with them. Him and his date. You decline. He looks perplexed; don't you love that band?

9) The guy who stops a conversation mid-sentence to literally turn away from you and watch another woman walk down the street.

10) The guy who says "you don't tell people about us, do you?" Followed a few hours later by asking you to deliver a wedding gift to mutual friends. If people aren't supposed to know you've seen each other recently, let alone in your underpants, how did you get the wedding gift in the first place?

Sometimes, it's the thing you never saw coming. Sometimes, it's the thing you absolutely expected. And sometimes, it's Ewoks. Oh - and just in case you're thinking I've known a lot of jerks, I haven't. You didn't think these were ten different guys, did you? Nope, just a few.  And I don't think any of them are bad guys; they just weren't the ones for me. Sometimes, it takes a few tries before you can clearly see that writing on the wall.

March Madness

Why hello, new issue of "Cosmo". Is this the month you change my life? From the looks of your cover, it's possible. You have "The Sex Quiz I Must Take". Time and Newsweek just have that annoying Hosni Mubarak.

So this quiz. I'm expecting a lengthy, detailed, probing list of no less than 25 questions. C'mon - it's supposed to leave me feeling "lustier than ever before". That seems like it might take a while. Nope - four questions. Four. And what does it tell me? That my "pleasure MO" is verbal. Meaning dirty talk. Hmm. Not really my first time at the rodeo, Cosmo. I sort of figured that out years ago. And speaking of the rodeo - when did "woman on top" become "cowgirl" and its no-sense-of-direction cousin "reverse cowgirl"? There was an embarrassingly lengthy period of time when I thought this was some new position, not an old stand-by. I was kind of convinced it involved a saddle. Or at least saying "Yee-haw" a lot.

I normally gloss right over the fashion stuff, because I'm not really their target audience. I haven't needed to know what's hot in da club for years. Big problem - of their "7 Sexy Must-Haves", one is high-waisted jeans, and another is a strapless floral dress. I'm gonna save you a trip, Stacey and Clinton. I did these jeans the first time. And you know what I learned? High-waisted jeans on a short-waisted girl means those aren't quarters in my pockets; they're my nipples. And strapless now equals topless shortly, at least in Cleavagetown. Where I've been acclaimed the Mayor for a record sixth term.

A super easy love booster? Sounds promising. Simply looking at photos of happy moments will reinforce pleasant memories and will make a guy feel closer to me. I'm reading between the lines here, but I think they mean a guy you're already in a relationship with, and not the poor guy across the hall you've photoshopped into the pics from your sister's wedding. Again, I'm making an assumption, but I'm pretty sure there's a fine but definite line between reinforcing pleasant memories and restraining order.

Page 112.  "Why Men in Love are Dragging Their Feet", during the five major stages of a relationship. Stage One: asking you out. Apparently, men's fear of being turned down is extremely heightened these days. Something to do with the recession. Great - even my chances of getting to second base are tied to the housing market. I'm told I need to learn how to encourage a guy to step up by giving him a strong "go" signal, because guys want to feel needed before they make a move. The article isn't overly helpful on how to accomplish that, though.  Am I supposed to stand around by a puddle and hope some guy pulls a Walter Raleigh? See if he can open this jar of pasta sauce I have in my purse? I don't think I can play helpless very well. I'm going to die a virgin. Okay, virgin-ish.

Stage two:  guys are waiting until after the fifth date to sleep with us these days, at least if they're really interested. Not just their feet they're dragging, I guess. I can't fault this; I think this is mostly awesome. It's purportedly because women are so sexually confident now and guys feel extra pressure to wow us. Judgy bitches are advised to make it clear  to a guy we don't consider sex to be a test of his merit. Um, some of us don't, not the first time out. We're too busy trying to make our thighs look thinner. It isn't American Idol, for Christ' sake. There is no golden ticket. And in the vast majority of cases, Steven Tyler isn't in the room. There's more talk that guys want to be the ones to make the first move towards the bedroom; they just need a big ol' green light.  So my take away from these first two stages is that guys and subtlety don't mix, and that you pretty much need to drop a piano on a guy to let him know you're interested. I have a piano. Coincidence? I think not. I didn't bother with the other three stages; I have to go Wile Coyote that bitch and bide my time. And who are these women who are seriously grading men the first time out? You're giving the rest of us blue balls. I bet it's the same women who hate chest hair.

23 Great Places to Meet Men actually had some useful tips. Or they would be useful,  if I was willing to hang out at a guitar shop or at the finish line of a 5K run. Which I'm not. But one caught my eye: go to the website of a local real estate company and check out the agents' names and photos. Email a few and set up appointments to see their listings. Doesn't matter if you're not looking to buy. This might be the real reason the housing market is in trouble. This is so sleazy. Look,  I asked a lot of stupid questions when I was buying my house ("Do you think it's haunted?"), but I think most agents would know something was up if you didn't notice the appliances but you did ask if he worked out and what he liked to do for fun.

Finally, we have "The touch that will melt his boxer briefs". Apparently, it's a light one. Except I could have sworn it was a firm one about two issues ago. Damn you, Cosmo - make up your mind. Here's what's going to happen:  I'm finally going to meet some guy when I'm hanging out at the hospital cafeteria (I can't make this stuff up), we'll make it to five dates, and then I won't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Rough? Featherlight? What?  And I'll be wearing high-waisted jeans and carrying a lasso while I'm trying to figure it out.

The great first date debate

Okay, it's not really much of a debate, but "discussion" didn't rhyme. Recently, some girlfriends and I got to talking about great first date ideas in Halifax. This is supremely easy in the summer, but a little tougher in the dead of winter. And let me stop any regular readers right there: I realize me talking about dating is like me talking about abdominal surgery; it's theoretical more than practical. I don't really do it, I'm pretty sure I'm underqualified for it, and the person on the receiving end might end up suing me.

Okay, I know many loving, committed relationships have started off over dinner and a movie. Except, it's just...uninspired. I don't think movies should be allowed on first dates. And you know I love movies. But why would you spend two hours NOT talking to the person you're hoping to get to know better? As for dinner, you won't find a more enthusiastic foodie than me, but you should tread carefully. Never go too fancy out of the gate. I think relaxed food means relaxed first date. Pizza and beer? Awesome. Burgers and fries? Awesome. Something with a reduction and way too much cutlery? Awesome in theory, but not first date awesome. First date awkward.

Go do something. I don't mean see a band or a play (see: not talking), but something a bit interactive, maybe a bit goofy. I think glow in the dark mini-golf is a fantastic choice. Like the name suggests, it's dark, which is always fun, since my inhibitions tend to lower right along with the wattage. You're doing something silly, so it takes the pressure off. It's hard to be nervous about the date when your teeth are glowing and you're aiming a tiny ball at a tiny hole while 80s hair band music plays. And you can get a little touchy-feely in the name of psyching out your opponent. Playing pool is great for this, too. I sort of suck at pool, but do have a tendency to make the occasional accidentally awesome shot despite a complete lack of planning and/or technical know-how. This is also an excellent opportunity to wear a slightly low-cut top. Are you stripes or solids? Who cares? Your boobs look great. Take the time to really line up your shots, ladies.

A T. rex named Sue. A bold choice for the post-adolescence set? Sure, for some. But it's a goddamn T. rex! Named Sue! She's world famous. She's the largest example of the baddest of the bad ass ever found. Have you seen "Jurassic Park"? That poor goat. And following Sue up with a trip to Maxwell's Plum to see if a beery connection to her can be made (she's from South Dakota - do they make beer in South Dakota?) is the sort of nonsense I'm all over. I know it would never happen, because I live in Halifax, not a romantic comedy, but if a guy ever suggested this as a first, or really any, date, I would likely be the first person ever kicked out of the Museum of Natural History for making out up against a 65 million year old dinosaur.

My final mid-winter suggestion is not for everyone. But those who like it will like it a lot! Go on the Keith's brewery tour. I admit this is fraught with pitfalls, but it's also chock-a-block with social lubricants. Sure, it's a bit hokey, what with the period costumes. Sidebar: I always want to talk to people in period costumes in a fake English accent, regardless of the period; I can't imagine this compulsion would be lessened in any way by the addition of beer. Anyway, you learn a little something about the love affair between ale and our fair city, the old brewery market is a terrific building, and there's a tavern at the end. There are also, however, serving wenches, so it might be a good time to redeploy that low-cut top I mentioned.

I know many women would prefer to be wined and dined on a first date, and that's great for some people. It's a perfectly acceptable first date. But it's not me. Give me a fossil and a Sam Adams over a wine list and linen napkins any day. And now that I think about it, there might be something to this whole dating / abdominal surgery analogy. I actually feel similarly towards both: you'll hopefully feel great afterwards, every one should scrub up beforehand, and it's always a good idea to drape the tummy before you start. Just don't sue me.

You sexy thing

What do women find sexy...about other women? Hold your Sapphic horses, kids, I'm not talking girl on girl. Well, not really. But we notice other women, and we want them to notice us. I certainly do. I've already waxed libidinal about what I find sexy in a man, but I probably notice sexiness in a woman even more. Is it a female comparison thing? Maybe a little. But it's more an appreciation, an acknowledgement, a "well done, you". Sort of a Ya-Ya sisterhood thing, but without the blood oaths and the crazy mother.

I've mentioned this before, but there's a difference between "hot" and "sexy" in my world. Hot is in your face, but it's surface. It's the cover of a book you haven't read. Sexy is several chapters in, and you don't know what's going to happen, but you're really enjoying turning the pages. Kim Kardashian is undeniably hot, but sexy? I don't know. Certainly not from the interviews I've seen. That breathy little girl voice, the heavy sex kitten make-up? It's all just so...expected. And it all smacks of self-consciousness to me. You know who is sexy to me? Annette Bening. Did I feel the same way 15 years ago? The revisionist historian in me likes to think I did. But she may also have been wearing a floral-print hippie dress over jeans, so she clearly can't be trusted.

My girlfriends and I are in agreement on this - one of the first things women notice about another woman is her confidence. Not her hair, or her body, or her shoes (well, sometimes her shoes), but the way a woman carries herself. Do you get a strong sense of who she is? Does she seem comfortable in her skin? That's sexy. We all have days when our self-confidence just says fuck it and taps out, so if we see another woman rockin' a bit of swagger, we always take notice. Because we all have days when we want what she's having.

Many of the things I find sexy in men I also find sexy in women. Except for my well-documented love of forearms. That is a delightfully and distinctly male thing for me. Sigh. But a woman who is curious about and engaged in the world? A woman with an appreciation for profanity and a slightly dirty laugh? A woman who can deliver a good dirty joke with élan? I want to sit by her at dinner. And then do shots with her. I'm kind of uneasy around grown women who never swear. It's just so reserved. It freaks me out. I have a theory - these are the same women who use terms like "down there". I'm still a bit unclear where they mean, exactly. Is it Nicaragua?

A little mystery, please. Whether it's your life story or your neckline, no one needs to know everything right out of the gate. Sexy never presents itself on a silver platter with an apple in its mouth. Or in its cleavage. So ladies, put your tits away and save the story about how you lost your virginity for another time, okay?

I love quirkily stylish women. On my best days, I hope I dip my toes into that category. And if a woman I consider stylish, particularly a complete stranger, compliments me on something I'm wearing, it gives me a little frisson of excitement and makes my day. Making someone's day is sexy. Because boys, we wear the nice bras for you, but we wear the funky jewellery for her.

Notice what's missing? Anything tangibly physical. Sorry, gentlemen, but finding other women sexy doesn't mean we want to sleep with them. I don't even want to sleep with most of the men I find sexy. It should be noted I said "most". Don't get me wrong; I love boobs. Happen to own a pretty decent pair myself. But when it comes to other women, that's not what intrigues me. Do I appreciate a woman with nice legs, or pretty eyes, or great skin? Of course, because those things are beautiful. But when it comes to my fellow members of the fairer sex, I'll take substance over surface any day. When it comes to forearms, however, it's a completely different story.

Play List

Recently, a friend of mine issued a challenge to me and a few friends. Come up with a list of ten songs you consider essential. Ten songs you couldn't live without. He stressed that we were to put our favourites, not what we thought others would necessarily like. He gave us about three days to submit our lists.

Hardest thing I've done in a long time. I agonized. I lost sleep. I'm still questioning some of my choices. I've spent more time rehashing the list than I have some of my relationships.

My list (not, it should be said, in order of preference):

1) The Whole of the Moon ( The Waterboys)  - reminds me of when I first moved to Halifax, even though it was first released before that. Not sure why; I think my friends and I were in a Waterboys phase at the time. I think the lyrics are beautiful. "Brigadoon" just doesn't get enough shout outs in pop songs.

2) Where the Streets Have No Name ( U2) - it was hard to pick one U2 song. But I love jangly guitars. I love Bono. And the awesome video just makes me smile.

3) I’ll Be ( Edwin McCain) - I think this is one of the best love songs ever. None of that silly hearts and flowers and romantic treacle. It could also be that he had long hair in the video; lord knows I had a rather lengthy phase when it came to long-haired men.

4) Don't You...( Simple Minds) - this was my graduating year’s prom song. And it’s in the Breakfast Club. Enough said.

5) Tiny Dancer ( Elton John - though the Ben Folds version is very good) - I want to be a seamstress for the band. I took a bit of heat for this one; I think it might seem clichéd to some. But I don't care. It's featured in one of my favourite scenes in "Almost Famous", one of my favourite movies. Singing along to this when Elton played it at his concert a while back was pure joy. Except perhaps for the people around me.

6) Moon on the Rain ( Fairground Attraction)  - was there ever a better lyric than “I’ve got your photograph/ the one that you signed/ tucked in my pocket all tattered by time"?  Terrific song from a criminally underappreciated U.K. band. Eddi Reader's was one of the best voices of the late 80s. Likely still is.

7) Every Breath You Take ( The Police)  - seeing Sting sing this live in concert was one of those moments I almost couldn't believe I was having.  I loved the Police dearly when I was a teenager. I was reasonably certain at the time that I would marry Stewart Copeland. Rolling Stone said he was the fifth greatest drummer of all time. Not in my books, baby.

8) When Doves Cry (Prince) – my Mom wouldn’t let me go see “Purple Rain”. She thought he was a pervert. I remember dancing to this song at the Kingston arena, probably grade nine. I still love him; my mother will now concede "he's kind of weird, but I like him". About time, Mom. I think she warmed up to him when she realized they were starting to share a similar fashion sense.

9) Sex on Fire ( Kings of Leon) – Caleb Followill has one of the best voices in rock, and it's at its sexiest on this song. That catch in his voice, the yearning? C'mon - when he sings "the head while I'm driving", if you don't want to be in a car with him right then, you're dead inside.

10) By Your Side ( Sade) - Such a sexy song.She has the most elegant and timeless voice. Just hearing her makes me want a glass of red wine. Or Scotch, which is weird, because I can't stand Scotch.

I can't say these are my ten absolute favourite songs ever, but they always make me happy, and they always make me sing along. There were songs I love that didn't quite make the list: "Wonderwall" by Oasis, "Just Like Heaven" by The Cure, "Spirit of '76" by The Alarm, "Need You Tonight" by INXS, "Don't Go" by the wonderful Hothouse Flowers. And I feel bad about your exclusion, Crowded House. I really wanted to up my hip quotient by throwing in some more recent stuff, but I had to go for longevity. So did my friends, apparently - there were songs by REM, and the Hip, and Public Enemy, and Pearl Jam, and classics by Neil Young and The Beatles. Luckily, or perhaps sadly, no one had "I Wanna Sex You Up" by Color Me Badd on their list. 

It was a great exercise, and a great walk through the jukebox in my head. And if you're standing next to me the next time one of these songs comes on, let me apologize to your eardrums in advance.