Friday, November 20th, 2009
After an intense Nando’s roundtable discussion recently (that Peri Peri sauce inspires some deep soul searching), in which a few of my fabulous, talented and gorgeous friends (I don’t hang with ugly people) recounted their relationship woes, I got to thinking about how to ease the troubles we all seem to have finding someone we can tolerate being around long enough to sustain something decent with. And I found the answer…..
That’s right amigos! I think it’s safe to say that since my last few relationships have registered pretty high on the worldwide richter scale of disaster, I don’t trust my own taste anymore. Seriously, since my past boos have included a crack head, a Napoleon complex-haver and a serial adulterer from The Village People, I have decided that I simply cannot be left to my own devices to meet men.
I still can’t bring myself to do internet dating, mainly because it seems to take just as much time as real dating. My friend told me it took her two hours to wade through the questions required to register on one site. Screw that noise. Who has that kinda time on their hands? So, to cut out all that BS, I say, I would prefer to have an army of people just looking on my behalf. Go out into the wilderness (whoa, I take that back. Go out into the city – you know it wouldn’t work out with me and a country dude) and bring me back a husband.
Here are a few guidelines to help you get an idea of the kind of guy I like. Preferably, the ideal candidate will be a mish-mash of all these things:
This fella brings the ‘hubba hubba’ and regardless of what people say, I think ‘hubba hubba’ is important in a life partner. Sure, his character on Mad Men is a complete asshole, relationship wise, but he’s creative, great at his job and he’s a presence. I could do without all his excessive drinking and smoking though.
Again, his character on The Wire is kind of an asshole, but as with Don Draper, he’s in a powerful position (given, it’s within a criminal organisation, but we’ll overlook that for now). I’m more attracted to his height and the way he carries himself.
Do I really need to explain this one? He’s a sweet slice of salt n’ pepper lovliness. To me, Clooney is the epitome of a gentleman. He’s charming, he has style, class and from what I’ve seen, a pretty wicked sense of humour.
My readers across the pond may not know who Stephen Fry is, but he’s an amazing actor and presenter. Sure, he’s gay, but whatever. This is probably the most intelligent man you’re ever gonna come across in life. He’d be hours, nay, a whole lifetime of entertainment. If I brought him home to my parents, they’d be very impressed, though they would, admittedly, have questions about why I’m dating a gay man.
Anyone who rolls with me has got to be funny and if anyone can bring the funny, it’s my man Jon Stewart. If I’ve got to spend a lifetime with someone, I need to be able to laugh my way through it.
Alright, so if you all could just get to work on that for me and report back with your findings, that’d be great. Mmkay. Thanks!
Sunday, May 4th, 2008
Being just north of the border, we’re exposed to a whole lot of American media. Sometimes this is good (I’m very thankful Jon Stewart comes into my life on a nightly basis), sometimes it’s bad (I could really do without Al Roker). American news shows, in particular, are pretty in your face, but over the last couple of weeks, they’ve been nothing short of a giant high school girl bitch fit on steroids.
First there was the rice shortage. With all the food in America, I doubt the lack of a little bit of rice will lead to a famine. But of course, the way it played out in the American media, it was the end of the world. Sam’s Club (which I believe is some sort of CostCo type outlet) was limiting purchases of rice to four bags per person. It should be noted that these ‘bags’ of rice are more like sacks of rice that require a fork lift truck to carry them. How hungry do you have to be to buy four sacks of rice? I imagine one sack would keep you going for an entire year. But yet, the news showed people stocking up on rice like it really was going out of fashion.
Then there was the Miley Cyrus controversy. OK, um, news flash America: it was an Annie Leibowitz shot with her back exposed, not a centrefold in Playboy. Calm the hell down. It garnered hours and hours of debate on every show going and the general consensus seemed to be that this was the worst bit of child pornography the world had ever seen. One show had a segment with mothers called ‘what should you tell your kids about the Miley Cyrus photos’. Well, I would tell my kids to have better taste in music and I’d tell the mothers to get a grip.
And then of course, there’s the story that refuses to die: Reverend Jeremiah White. First off, I thought the States had that whole ‘separation of church and state’ thing going on. So, technically, the church Barack Obama chooses to attend should have nothing to do with his campaign. Oh, but I guess it’s a different rule book when there’s a black man running for president. As for what the Rev said about 9/11 being karma for the states – is the USA really that unaware that the rest of the world kind of shares that view? And no, that doesn’t mean, in any way, shape or form that anyone deserved to die. It just means that America had been going around bombing the crap out of other countries for years and it’s a little unrealistic to think that no one would bomb America eventually.
So, US of A, how about you just chill the hell out. The rice ain’t going anywhere anytime soon. Miley Cyrus’s back will not corrupt the youth of the country. And don’t just focus on the craziness of Jeremiah White. The man has great robes that can definitely rival those of the Pope and the Polygamists. C’mon – credit where credit’s due people!
Earth to London, Come in London…
Ahhh, LDN, you know I love you right? I do, I really do. From the moody shop assistants, to the most knowledgeable cab drivers the world has ever seen, I love it all. So, when it came to the mayoral elections last friday, well, what happened? I feel like I missed something and woke up to a really bad practical joke where Boris Johnson is suddenly mayor. Except it’s not actually a joke. Boris Johnson? BORIS FRIKKIN’ JOHNSON??!! That’s the best we can do? Seriously? Did you all just forget to go out and vote or something? Words kind of fail me. What kind of crazy, topsy turvy world are we living in where that mumbling, bumbling mess that is, Boris Johnson, can be mayor of London town? Answers on a postcard please.