Woman are from Mars, men are from...Vancouver?

2:1 possums; the daunting statistic that has plagued our city to the point where many an eligible gal has resigned to life as a perpetual single. The number represents the estimated guy to girl ratio, which explains why most women are under the assumption that there just aren’t any available guys in Vancouver. Having lived within the city limits for 8 years now I’m starting to see some truth to these numbers. Once you minus the gay community, which has spoken for some of Vancouver’s most desirable dudes, there you have it. Girls, girls, girls.

Seemingly, the odds are definitely not in the favor of the female Vancouverite. This point was recently made even more apparent while celebrating a gal pals birthday over the weekend, only to be surrounded by a plethora of foxy female specimen. Not only were many of them single, they were beautiful, smart, funny, and successful. Any one of them a complete catch to an eligible bachelor. So what gives?

I decided to take to the street and survey some local boys to hear their take on the matter. When asked ‘why do you think there are so many single girls in Vancouver’, the responses went like this:

“They’re snobs. Vancouver is known for their snobby girls.” - Lee, Yaletown

“I think girls for the most part are always looking for a relationship when for the most part guys are not. I also think a lot of girls are looking for that perfect guy and won't give a lot of guys a chance.” - Brad, Pitt Meadows

“They have false expectations due to the false power men have given them mainly for the sake of sex. They never seem to be up front in the beginning.” - Marc, Burnaby

After much of the same response, I decided to pose this question for the ladies as well:

“People have ADD when it comes to dating. It seems like everyone is juggling, especially with online dating. It’s so easy to be casual about everything. I've met guys who I've really liked, had an awesome date with them, then I come home and check my plentyoffish. Only to see that they've logged on minutes before or after me! Everyone's doing the same thing.” - Kirsten, North Vancouver

Has online dating all but crippled the dating scene? Have we become incapable of committing by having the ability to click through a catalogue of potential suitors at any given time? Or, are Vancouver gals simply too picky? This might warrant a tad more research.

This post is to be continued...

Almost famous

Fame is a funny thing. How does a band or an actor or any performer for that matter attain fame and notoriety? What does it take and what series of events need to occur to secure ones spot in the world of celebrity? Perhaps it comes down to the stars aligning ever so perfectly. Maybe it’s a chance meeting with an important contact or tireless hours of unpaid and unrecognized work. Whatever the magical equation may be, it amazes me how many talented people are out there and why so many of them have yet to be discovered.

Having realized that some of these said talents are people i know or who have crossed my path, I was inspired to compile a short list of....

The Urban Cowgirl’s Ones to Watch

Sophie Bramley West

This British babe is not only easy on the eyes but has a sultry voice and mad songwriting skills to match. She compares herself to the likes of Ladyhawke and Little Boots but I say she has a sexy style all her own. Hailing from Sheffield, England, Bramley West is also a member of the group Orange 38.

I met Sophie years ago while working at a backpackers hostel in Australia. She’s come a long way since serving XXXX to intoxicated travelers. Give her a listen on MySpace.

Andrew Allen

I stumbled upon this singer songwriter while volunteering for the 2009 Junos. BC boy Andrew Allen really stood out for me during a Junos pre-party while performing among several other up and coming Canadian musicians. His poignant sometimes romantic lyrics paired with a serious set of pipes really caught me off guard! What can I say...I’m a sucker for a boy with a guitar. Check him out.

Darcy Michael

I may be a tad bias with respect to this next talent, but I don’t mind because this politically charged pot head (and I say so affectionately) is certainly someone to keep an eye on.

Darcy Michael, the self-proclaimed undercover fag, has been corrupting comedy club audiences for the past 4 years and I feel like this furry fella is on the brink. From his debut on a small stage on The Drive, to comedy festivals, headlining shows across the country and a spot on Leno, Michael is just a few tokes away from super stardom.

Michael also recently got a rise out of self-righteous bitchy blogger Perez Hilton himself, and for that I love him even more.



I hate to love you and leave you possums, but I’ve got to run...tickets to Scott Weiland at the Commodore tonight and I still need to select which under pants I plan on hoisting onto the stage.

Bon soir xx

Sex, Drugs and Provincial Politics

It’s election day eve kids and the mud slinging, hand shaking and baby kissing has seemingly subsided. As per norm in BC, it’s a two party race, however we could see a third party sneak into a few more seats in Victoria.

I’ve always had rather strong opinions where provincial politics are concerned and a recent interest in electoral reform (thanks to my handsome roommate who explains things to me calmly when I clearly have no idea what I’m talking about). I’ve already made my choice, yet it is not my intent to sway British Columbians who might be reading this blog. I’d simply like to remind everyone who is eligible to get out and VOTE tomorrow, Tuesday, May 12th at your local polling station from 8am-8pm.

So instead of spouting off each party’s platforms like every media outlet in town, I’d like to review a few comical highlights from this crazy campaign...

Carole James, leader of the NDP party, has for once truly captured my attention. Is it just me, or does James sound just like a certain Alaskan lady who ran for VP of the US of A? Just an observation. See comparison clips below:





Another juicy James tidbit occurred during an interview on a popular Vancouver radio station where she allowed herself to be photographed with the DJ’s wearing t-shirts adorned with anti-Olympic messaging inspired by this graffiti found somewhere in East Van.

Granted it was all a joke, but where is her PR team? Her crew then posted the image on James’ Twitter page, thus giving the Liberals a little more ammo the day before the election. Whether you support the Olympics or not, hundreds of thousands of visitors will be gracing Vancouver and Whistler with their presence in less than a year, not to mention the millions of TV viewers. Should she get in, is this the message we want to send to the world? Surely not.

Adding to the deliciousness that is democracy are BC’s 40+ fringe parties. Some of my favorites include:

The Sex Party is once again on the mend to ensure British Columbians are getting their rocks off with a little political reform, which includes: changing our education system, repealing sex-negative laws and regulations, and supporting a sex-positive community. I feel that; pun intended.

The Work Less Party might have the most effective campaign slogan of all - Alarm Clocks Kill Dreams. Quite right. I was enjoying a rather fantastical dream staring myself and Chris Pine (the new Captain Kirk) the other night, and my alarm clock did indeed kill that buzz. I digress, the party is campaigning for a 32 hour work week. I have no negative comments to add here.

The B.C. Marijuana Party, an oldie but goodie, is shakin and bakin all over town with their eloquent yet controversial leader Marc Emery at the helm. Despite boasting the best weed around, I don’t usually partake in the Province’s cheeba culture, however Emery has some very valid points. Not sure they deserve a seat, but I’m glad they’re there to raise awareness. Wouldn’t it be grand to put the gang bangers out of business by legalizing marijuana? Oooohhh....I’ve said too much. Overgrowing the Government....clever pot heads.

Before I bid you adieu, I’d like to remind you to read up on STV before casting your vote tomorrow. Many western countries around the world (21 in Europe alone) have already adopted proportional representation. Let’s be sure we are all well informed.

See you at the polls possums.
xx

A Cowgirl in Cuba

Hola possum-itas, I’m back in the saddle after an adventure on the commie Caribbean isle of Cuba. Like most Canadians, the bf and I booked in at a beach resort in Varadero, what I am now calling the 11th Province of Canada. Picture house boating on Shuswap without the boat...picture Ibiza without the Sangria...picture Cancun during spring break without the Americans and whoomp, there it is. A mecca of maple leaf tattoos and Bubba Keg mugs.

What’s a Bubba Keg you ask? I inquired with a few lads from Halifax, to which they explained ‘you get them at Canadian Tire, obviously’. Obviously indeedy. The Canadians can’t wait for the Cubans to pour a proper rum punch so they insist on having their Bubba Keg filled to the brim to avoid line ups at the bar. Offiside? Maybe. Efficient though, I’ll admit. O’ Canada.

The single saving grace of this otherwise Canadian town was Calle 62, an open air bar with $2 mojitos, live music, and a mix of Cubans and visitors all vying for a coveted seat. People end up spilling out onto the street and dancing til dawn; little kids and grand parents alike. Loved it.

In an endeavor to escape the crazed pubescents and cruise about Cuba, we took off to Havana for a few nights to break up the debauchery. While en route we discovered a fabulous little road side stand, in the middle of nowhere, latin music blazing, serving up the best pina coladas ever to be tasted by this senorita. Upon arrival in Havana, the city immediately blew me away. We set up camp in the Vedado at the Tryp Habana Libre, formally the Hilton and headquarters to Castro and his cronies during the revolution in 1959.

Kiddy corner to our hotel was the Coppelia Ice Cream Cathedral, perpetually surrounded by Cubans lining up for hours for a few scoops of the good stuff. We couldn’t figure out what the big deal was? Was the ice cream laced with a little something that made these loyal patrons come back for more? Turns out, most Cubans were not permitted in the high end ice cream parlors of pre-revolutionary Cuba so today, the ‘Cathedral’ is a gift from the government. Hence the commitment to stand in line for hours for a bit of ice cream because they now have the right to do so. Fight the power people.

Habana Vieja (The Old City) is chalk full of Spanish colonial architecture, horse drawn carriages and old American cars circa the 1950’s. A complete time warp to an era of glamour and corruption, wealth and seduction. I was certainly seduced by the insatiable energy, so intense and passionate you can’t help but feel inspired the moment you enter the city limits.

After strolling around the Capitlio and making a stop at the Partagas cigar factory to stock up on some Cuban stogies, we indulged in a lobster dinner at the famous El Floridito Restaurante. A favorite of Hemingway himself, complete with his favorite bar stool preserved with chain roping so no one else will ever assume his spot. As we sipped on our second bottle of vino tinto, I tried channeling the great writer's vibes. Some of the best literature ever written about Cuba is care of this American legend.

The following day we made our way to Plaza de la Revolucion to admire the gigantic Che Guevara mural and make a stop at Castro’s offices...you know, to drop by a fruit basket, as you do with most dictators. We spent our last night in Havana at the Hotel Nacional, a popular celebrity haunt back in the day and still every bit as glamorous as the last time Marlene Deitrich walked through their front doors. We took in a cabaret show, which was nothing short of spectacular, complete with a plethora of pasties and half naked latinas shaking their stuff for an enthusiastic crowd. On the way back to our hotel, we cruised along the city’s Malecon, which was a buzz with young people singing and dancing; lovers locking lips as the waves spilled over them. These are a passionate people.

Our last few days were spent on Varadero’s white sandy beaches, hiding under a palapa, hoping that time would stand still. But alas, we’re back in Vancity watching the NHL playoffs like the rest of the Cuban-Canadians.

Hasta leugo Cuba.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl