Urban Cowgirl - Weekly Wire

2009-09-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

The Urban Cowgirl has moved!

Check out the new digs at: http://urbancowgirlvancouver.wordpress.com/

This site will remain active...sort of an archive of the early days.

Much love possums,

UC xx

Strategize this

2009-08-31T22:10:00.000-07:00

So it turns out I have a day job. I appreciate this may come as a shock for the 2% of you reading this that aren’t either my friend, colleague or family member. Yes, sadly I do not attract enough readers to sustain my lifestyle while I publish one single blog per week. Go figure. Good news is I have a gig that covers my cowgirl lifestyle whilst I blog it up.

Now, we all have those weeks where we feel like we’re faking an orgasm 8 hours a day, Monday through Friday. It doesn’t matter what industry you work in, the redundant corporate buzz words and coffee comparable to a mild form of jet fuel can really wear on a gal. How many times do we have to hear the phrase ‘moving forward’ or ‘let’s uncover the nuances’ before we pull an Office Space and smash the shit out of the fax machine? Not too many, I suspect.

I work in PR and aside from badgering the media, I strategize. That’s right possums, one of my many functions is to strategize the badgering of media. So, during a recent strategy session I was pleased to discover an unexpected, and unlikely, visitor. While my boss and I sit in our massive, freezing-like-the-artic, board room one of our counterparts joined us via video conference. We were about to wrap things up when my coworker’s projection turned puzzled, as he muttered a quiet ‘well I’ll be damned.’ There stood Pamela Anderson, in our parking lot, about to climb into an SUV and drive off. I quickly sprang to action and asked that my coworker remove the video cam from it’s perch and point the thing out the window so I could take a peek. Within seconds the Playmate turned Peta activist was part of my PR strategy session. This certainly perked up my work week. What’s next, the Hoff? Germans love him and frankly, so do I.

So next time you have the urge to staple things to your boss’ forehead, remember you never know when a center fold will find their way into your board room.

Be cool possums
x

Don’t call me baby

2009-08-24T21:29:00.000-07:00

Last week while lunching with some lady friends, our conversation shifted towards the subject of dating – shocking, I know. We quickly realized that we all shared a similar opinion on the subject of pet names. You know, terms of endearment. Those sickening sweetie names we use when we’re smitten with the opposite sex.

I’m not poo-pooing pet names possums. In fact, I’m happy to engage in some love language with my bf, but there’s a reason why this is acceptable. So listen up all you single studs, because I have yet another piece of unsolicited advice for you.

One of my lunching ladies mentioned that she had met a pilot during a layover in Toronto. Following an impromptu 2 hour get-to-know-you-over-coffee first date, the pilot seemed promising. Let’s face it, the uniform gets you a second date regardless. Given our pilot is based back east, a budding exchange of text messages ensued. Talk of a second date on this side of the country seemed inevitable until our leading man made the mistake of typing something that we all agreed was a tad pervy. In the text he referred to our gal as ‘sexy’. Not, ‘wow you looked really sexy sitting at your gate that day’. No...no, no. Sexy as in ‘hope you had a good flight home, sexy’. Yuck.

We glanced at each other with a simultaneous look of disgust. Why was it so horrible that a guy referred to our friend as sexy? I’ll tell you why possums, because you just don’t go there until you’re in a relationship. I compare this to the first time you do a #2 at a guys place (which is another blog in itself). We don’t do this unless we’re committed, because for one reason or another, it’s considered offside. Same goes for ‘sexy’. Or shnookum bear, sugar tits, or any other bizarre-o pet name. It implies one of two things:

1. Your manner with women is comparable to that of an 80 year old.
2. You’re a sleazy chauvinist.

I’m certain I do not speak for the every one, but I’m confident I speak for most when I say - sexy is not okay unless, at the very least, you’ve had a roll in the hay.

Case in point:

Man Up

2009-08-17T21:18:00.000-07:00

Lately I’ve noticed my fellow ladies laying down some pretty tough talk when it comes to their men. As such, this post is positioned more towards the gals, although there is some insightful bits – I think – for the boys as well. Consider it a public service announcement just for you, possums.

Aside from my own personal learnings over the years concerning the opposite sex, I’ve noticed some unnerving behavior while observing complete strangers and peers alike. So ladies...

Please, oh please, will you stop emasculating your men. If you’re puzzled as to what I’m talking about you may be an oblivious offender. Let me brake it down for you. When you openly and publicly express your distaste for something your guy has said, perhaps in front of close friends, family or colleagues, this does not fair well for a fellas masculinity. For example, “Boo boo bear, can you please eat your short ribs with utensils?” Or, “Lover bunny, don’t speak with your mouth full.” Especially when delivered in a condescending, ‘I’m trying to be nice but really I’m about to unleash the bitch’ tone. Humiliation tactics tend to back fire, so best wait until you’re alone to share your thoughts on the subject. There is nothing worse then watching a woman publicly shame her man for something completely trivial. How often do you hear a guy say, ‘Hey hun, you might like to rethink the way you’re holding your fork.’ It just doesn’t happen.

Doting. Don’t do it. Men aren’t helpless infants who require non-stop tending to. Don’t fiddle with their hair, correct their grammar, or ask if they need things incessantly. Here’s an example scenario that you should avoid...

Woman - “Hun, are you hungry?”
Man - “No, I’m good.”
Woman - “But you haven’t had a proper meal all day, you should eat something.”
Man - “I’m good, thanks.”
Woman - “Ok, I’ll just whip you up a snack, your electrolytes must need a little boost.”
Man - “No, really I’m fine.”
Woman - “Here you go honey, I fixed you a glass of soy milk and some lentil soup.”
Man - *Sigh accompanied by head shake*

Guys are pretty straight forward. The words ‘I’m fine’ is not guy talk for ‘I'm dying for a health shake baby, please make me one!’ It’s means their fine. Really.

Nagging. Now this is something I’ve struggled with, as let’s face it, we woman are in our own time zone. The ‘feminine time zone’ (FTZ). Meaning, we simply like things done promptly. Case in point, my bf and I have just returned from a weekend away and my things are already put away and in the wash while his are still in shambles. It’s ok, because I know he’ll get to it. Yet, it’s taking every piece of composure I have to not step away from the blog and begin cleaning up his shit. That’s just how we women roll, we like to getter done. There is no sense trying to reason this point with men, and that’s ok because they too have their own time zone. The ‘I’ll get to it when I get to it’ time zone (IGTIWIGTITZ).

In closing, I’d just like to say that men are perhaps equally at fault if they feel like less of a man as a result of the aforementioned. Don’t stand for this passive aggressive behavior boys! Instead, eat your food like an adult, don’t leave your shit lying around and eat regular healthy meals throughout the day. And you thought I’d sell my ladies out completely...

Peace and love possums. x

Ankle Biters Be Gone

2009-08-10T21:10:00.000-07:00

You’re hosting a dinner party comprised of couples mostly, and have quite the spread prepared. Upon shopping for ingredients and selecting a couple smooth vintages, you’re set to entertain. Never does it dawn on you, however, that there may be some babies in attendance. That’s right, babies. Bambino's, offspring, the fruit of someone’s loins, lounging about your adults-only dinner party. With a smug little look on their baby face, no less. You know, that smug ‘I can drool all over your furnishings and stank up a room with my poopie pants’ look?

You might ask yourself, ‘how does this happen?’ Do people actually bring said babies to dinner parties when it has been clearly defined that the guest list is for grown ups? Apparently some parental types pull this kind of shit. What’s worse is these people don’t see it as a problem. I’ll be the first to say if someone brought over their postnatal paposse to my place during dinner - unannounced - I’d be in a state of shock.

Dining over diaper-clad guests simply doesn’t appeal to most non-parents, which is why baby is often dismissed. One of my gal pals was preparing to host a gathering recently, when one of her friends asked if it would be ok if she brought her toddler along. In this case, it absolutely was not ok, yet my friend was left to feel like a bitch for sticking to her guns. Not that this mattered because her friend brought the urchin along anyway, after she had been asked not to. Has she no shame? Does the part of our brain that determines our manners get wiped clean with motherhood?

When I was a wee whippersnapper, my mom had no problem booking a babysitter when she and dad decided to hit the town, and rightly so. What’s wrong with parents these days? It’s ok people, your baby will survive without you for a few hours. I’m not saying you should source your sitter on Craigslist or anything, but surely someone can look after the tike for one night.

A few weeks later I found myself lunching with a good friend who had a similar story. Dinner party, a small gathering of friends, good food, a typical adult affair. A few days prior, one of his friends rang to see if it was ok to bring her 13 year old daughter along. Come the fuck on people, bringing a baby was bad enough, but at least you don’t have to censor your conversation. No cursing, no profanity, no adult content at all really. It’s earmuffs for everyone!

On that note, I’ll leave you with an appropriate clip demonstrating this very point.

Night night possums. x

My Possum Pitch

2009-08-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

- I interrupt this weekly blog for a moment of shameless promotion -

Dearest possums, faithful readers, people who have nothing better to do then spend 5 minutes per week reading my dribble. The time has come to kick things up a notch. I’ve been putting together a pitch in an endeavor to get my weekly wire picked up by a local publication, and thought who better to help in this crusade then my possums themselves. I have some ideas, some angles if you will, but ultimately I would love your feedback.

While perusing my posts over the past year and a half, it’s clear there are topics I tend to gravitate towards. According to my post tags, my favorite topics seem to be Vancouver-centric rants and random occurrences. Perhaps not relatable to the masses, but they certainly speak to anyone living in this city...anyone who has visited this city for that matter. Coming in a close second is what I call my ‘Nitty Gritty Celebrity’ posts, where I report on celebrity sightings, and profess my love or utter distaste towards certain famous folks. I also offer reviews in the form of ‘Urban Cowgirl lists’on a range of topics from food and travel to fashion and music. Politics tends to push my blogger buttons as well.

I’m targeting one publication in particular, who has already adopted the art of the blog. 24 Hours Vancouver online has 6 fabulous feature bloggers and I’d like to somehow squeeze the Urban Cowgirl into this space. So, when you have a spare moment, I’d like to ask that you do two small things for me in the coming weeks…

1) Email me and tell me which topics you can’t live without.

2) Shoot a short note to Dean Broughton dean.broughton@24hrs.ca, the Editor of 24 Hours Vancouver, and explain to him why you think the Urban Cowgirl needs her own column.

This is just the beginning of my campaign for a column so I’ll be sure to keep you posted on any progress. As mentioned in my very first post on February 20, 2008, “I’m not channeling Carrie

Bradshaw, but instead trying to become a writer. So here goes…”

Nothin’ but love possums.

UC xx

It’s gettin’ hot in herrre

2009-07-27T23:01:00.000-07:00

Where am I, the western Sahara? It certainly feels that way with this crazy heat wave we’re enduring. Vancouverites are in shock. People are piling into the closest Canadian Tire to score the biggest fans they can find. We’re in an inferno people. The tropics. I swear I saw a gecko in my shower this morning.

Granted it’s July, and despite popular opinion there are no igloos in this part of our vast country. Now that I think about it, I wouldn’t mind thronging myself up against a snowy structure right about now. Despite being a bit of a beach bunny - a tanorexic sun worshiper if you like - the humidity is a challenge. Besides the bronzer melting off my face, my hair has been quaffing into quite the retro-fro, reminiscent of Monica on Friends during the Maui episode. Good GAWD I'm a sexy beast. Sexy. Beast.

My only sanctum in all this swelter is the utterly ridiculous fashion trends my fellow citizens have been sporting to manage the rising mercery. This heat wave has equated to one, big hot mess for many, which is why I’ve prepared...

The Urban Cowgirl’s Summer Fashion Follies

1) Mesh tops on men. I don’t care if you live in the West End or not, these haven’t been acceptable since Wham released Wake Me Up. Shame on American Apparel for endorsing this look.

2) Socks with sandals. We all know it’s wrong so why do we do this? I use the term ‘we’ loosely as what I really mean is men with no fashion morals, and the tourist community-at-large. Senior citizens are exempt.

3) Men in v-necks. I’m sensing a trend here, but don’t worry ladies I’ll get to you next. V-necks are never a good idea on dudes. Ever. Don’t do that.

4) Visors. Remember when these were cool in the 90’s for a month or so? I believe they called it ‘bad ass country cluber chic’. I find visors rather agreeable on the golf course, but no where beyond the club house. We’re not teeing off at our neighborhood Starbucks, are we? I didn’t think so.

5) Blueblockers. I’d like to say senior citizens are exempt from this, but sadly they are not. These are fucking hideous. Surely there’s something more suitable that doesn’t make you look like an electrician.

6) OK ladies, here’s my beef – baring saggy boobs. Now, I’m the first to admit that sauntering about sans bra is a fabulous feeling. It’s the first thing I rip from my bod after a long day at the office. But must our bosom flap about in public? Wreck beach, yes. Hustling down Homer Street, no.

I’m signing off now to go stick my head in the freezer. So, my perspiring possums, let me leave you with a quote from one of my fave flicks, that sums up our weird, west coast weather.

"It's hot! Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest things is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking." Well, tell me what it feels like. "Fool, it's hot! I told you again! Were you born on the sun? It's damn hot! It's so damn hot, I saw little guys, their orange robes burst into flames. It's that hot! Do you know what I'm talking about?" What do you think it's going to be like tonight? "It's gonna be hot and wet! That's nice if you're with a lady, but ain't no good if you're in the jungle!"

Thank god for Wednesday

2009-07-20T21:08:00.000-07:00

Have you ever dreamt that you won the lottery? Perhaps you’ve already accounted for the cash, should you possess a winning ticket one day. I for one buy a lottery ticket every chance I get. I wasn’t always a lotto lover, but the recession inspired me to try my luck. Granted, I have never been in a better financial position since this so-called recession hit. I still like having an excuse to fantasize about my possible fortune. Why is it that spending $2 (no Extra because my Gram says that’s a sham) makes me feel like I have the right to dream of all these things? Somehow having this ticket makes it seem more reasonable to indulge in the fantasy. It singlehandedly shifts my energy into a warm and fuzzy frenzy! No, this is not a plug for The Secret people.

On the way home from work today, I mentioned to my bf that we - once again - did not win the lottery. To which he responded “thank god for Wednesday”. Thank god indeed. It’s the next chance to buy a lottery ticket and slip back into fantasyland. Perhaps what I need to do is train myself to dream these things, with or without said ticket?

Here’s the thing possums...I’ve had a number of mysterious cash windfalls myself. Luck you say? Maybe. For example, way back when I was a wee possum, I purchased a $1 scratch’n’win the night before flying to Europe. I won $500, which in those days, translated to paying for my flight. Fast forward a few years, when I won another chunk of change, this time $5000 on a popular Vancouver radio show. In all my cowgirl cavorting, the benjamins always seem to appear when least expected.

The best bit about winning a little cashola is dreaming up all the fabulous things you plan to do with it. For example, I’d rescue and adopt a couple of dogs, name them Horhay and Madonna and dress them in Ed Hardy. I would buy organic, locally produced foods exclusively and volunteer for a good cause. I’d be on a flight to the South of France so fast, ma tête se tourner. While in France I would determine how to spend and invest my millions, beginning with an initial investment in Cole Haan and Jimmy Choo. All while my personal assistant Franc (pronounced Fronk) fluffs my pillows, fixes me a bowl of bouillabaisse and fetches me a glass of rosé. Oui, sil vous plait.

What would you do??

In other news, I now have three - count ‘em - THREE tomatoes on my tomato plant. Maybe this represents my windfall for now.

Here’s an oldie but a goodie. Bon soir possums. x

Confessions of a Cowgirl

2009-07-13T22:41:00.000-07:00

Hello my precious possums, how goes the battle? I say, this summer is slipping away faster than vino from my wine rack. I hope you’re all soaking up the sun and logging as many beach days as possible. Spoken like a true tanorexic. Amidst all of this summertime splendor, I’ve adopted a few guilty pleasures that I thought I’d share. Consider it my cowgirl confessional, minus the closet...or whatever that thing is.

Top 10 Confessions

1) Let’s talk Twilight. I know, I know, how very predictable, but what can I say? I’ve always thought of vampires as being these sensual beasts as it were, toss in a tumultuous human/immortal love affair and i’m hooked. However, I’m happy to report I’m not as diehard (or Twi-hard) as some. For example, like this weirdo who willingly had Robert Pattinson’s autograph tattooed right where he lift it — oh her wrist. WTF.

2) Chicken Club sandwiches from PHAT (Pretty Hot and Tasty), this fabulous New York style deli a few blocks from my pad. The menu doesn’t exactly support the bikini diet, however these babies take care of a Saturday morning hangover in a heartbeat.

3) The Bachelorette. I can’t help but indulge in this weekly cryfest as this gal participated in Whistler/Vancouver product placement for 3 whole episodes! Clever marketing and a bunch of man whores. A delightful combo.

4) Gladiator sandals. They’re back for another season, thank buddha, as my feet were about ready to fall off thanks to my high rise heel collection.

5) Local street busker SpandyAndy, bustin’ a move all over Vancity. If you haven’t seen him in action on the street, check him out here. I first discovered him in front of the art gallery the day after MJ died, performing to all his hits. Just a dude in spandex with solid dance moves and a message. Love him.

6) My tomato plant. I have two sprouts so far. This is exciting news.

7) Speaking of vino vanishing from my wine rack, give the Talus Chardonnay a go. It’s recession friendly, at $10 a pop, and it’s creamy, oaky deliciousness is divine with seafood...or a piece of provolone.

8) The new Lily Allen album, It’s Not Me, It’s You, especially this song. After a mind numbing day at the office, this song soothes the soul.

9) Bumpits hair volumizing inserts. I get fake boobs, fake finger nails and even false eye lashes. But why oh why would we want something that resembles that of a bone contusion sprouting from our noggin? The commercial is what earns Bumpits a spot on this list. Are they for real?

10) Craig Ferguson. I am and have always been a hardcore Letterman loyalist, however Ferguson is fucking hysterical. Is he dipping into a wee dram of scotch before each show? It’s tough to say what’s in his snake cup, but I do love those puppets.

Vancouverites indulge in local bites

2009-07-06T21:55:00.000-07:00

I love food. I’ve become a dine-hard one might say, however lately I find myself assuming a pseudo food critic persona whilst dining around town and I’m not sure where this all originated? I could blame it on an overdose of Hells Kitchen, which by the by is making it’s way to Whistler. However, my secret obsession over Chef Ramsey and his volatile ways doesn’t seem to be what has sparked my undying desire to dine. I remember being in my early 20’s and eating raisin bran accompanied by cheap red wine for dinner (please, be kind possums, i was but a wee lass). Fast forward a few years and boom I’m so addicted to our local eateries I get anxious having not tried them all (although, I’m close).

Over the weekend this foodie parked her booty at a few local faves that I’m not only inspired to give a shout out to both, but feel I should share the goods...or the foods, rather.

Jules Bistro, which I have mentioned subtly in previous posts, is a jewel indeed. If you haven’t been, I urge you to go and experience authentic French fare in a delicately elegant atmosphere. There is no dress code, simply come as you are, however the clientele is eclectic allowing you to arrive in your finest frock or your Saturday strolling attire. The service is exceptional but relaxed, with our server boasting a beautiful accent and the owner popping by now and then with a witty comment while he multi-tasked between tables. Jules offered up the kind of meal that subconsciously leaves you appreciating every bite, while falling into a certain food coma...on the other hand, that may have been the bottle of Chablis, but I digress. Try the Moules Fr ites - steamed mussels in white wine with garlic and parsley served with French fries. My handsome date enjoyed the seafood linguini, fresh and full of flavor. The resident piano player helped top off our night before embarking on our hazy walk home. I’m usually not a sucker for romance, but I was certainly seduced.

The next day, as if we hadn’t been decadent enough, we trotted over to a nearby spot boasting some of the best brunch on Beatty. The Medina Cafe, same owners as Chambar (another Vancouver institution), has been a common discussion among dine-hards for quite some time. Having finally dragged my tookus a mere 5 blocks to this nearby noshery, I arrived with some hefty expectations. Not to sound cliche, in other words, like many bona-fide food critics in town, but I loved my Medina experience. From the street, the cafe looks cramped and just when you think you’re about to embark on an hour long wait...whoops, they walk you through a corridor to the ‘other side’ of the cafe. A spectacular room that opens up to massive windows, exposed beams a la industrial chic, brick walls and all the other Gastown staples. Now we’re talkin’. The menu matched the great room with a fresh Moroccan flare and my lavender latte was the perfect start to my Sunday.

Bon appetit possums!
xx

My Cusack Encounter

2009-06-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

As luck would have it - or I simply have a celebrity magnet attached to my person - I had the pleasure of enjoying yet another splendid celebrity encounter. This time, with a certain Mr. John Cusack. In. The. Flesh. This is one celeb that not only impressed, but pleasantly surprised me with his genuine demeanor and understated attire. Cool as a cucumber.

One of my BFF’s and I were en route for some goss and grub at one of Gastown’s finest. A jewel one might say. When we arrived, there wasn’t a single seat free in the house, so we scooted up the block a few doors to another Gastown institution. A bottle of vino later, we rang up some friends to join us for some late night debauchery. While discussing my subtle obsession over celebs, in walks in Cusack....decked out in denim, kicks, a track suit jacket, and his black baseball cap turned backwards. Not an ideal look pour moi, but damn the boy is hot. Unlike other celebs I’ve happened upon, Cusack is tall....really tall. And fit! *Sigh*. I felt like a girl of 29 again.

Having little to no shame, I immediately approached our subject, introduced myself and inquired about his business in our fair city. He explained he was in town to shoot a new film and continued to introduce his director and several cast mates (who had accompanied him) in an endeavor to shift the attention away from himself. How very modest. It didn’t change the fact that I wanted to throw my arms around him and profess my love in manner of Kate Beckinsale a la Serendipity - one of my favorite Cusack flicks. But I digress...

I’ve been a fan for years. John Cusack is the quintessential leading man of romantic comedy, most notably in the hit film High Fidelity. And so possums, I’ll leave you with this....

Fancy a quickie or a courtship?

2009-06-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

Bon soir possums! Following up from a previous post where I interviewed some local lads in an endeavor to uncover the vibe of Vancouver’s dating scene, I have new and interesting insight to share. Groundbreaking, maybe not. Fucking hysterical, absolutely.

After countless conversations with a substantial sample of my peer group, it appears that people most commonly gravitate towards 1 of 2 dating sites. Plenty of Fish and eHarmony. POF seems to attract people with a more flakey tendency towards dating whereas eHarmony seemingly sucks in the sincere folk who want to make a connection. Why? For the simple fact that these people have invested some dollas. If you pay, you’re ready to play. If you fish, you’re more likely to ditch. Makes sense. Money means commitment...right? It’s debatable.

Another dating tactic that has somehow survived the ages is the live chat 1-900 numbers. I’m sure you’ve all seen the one with Avangeline Lily where she sold her soul to Live Links, despite being a big star today. Haha...ha...ahem. So, in the spirit of continuing in my quest for the singleton, I decided to take one for Team Possum and do a little research on the subject.

I rang up one of these live chat lines and recorded a pseudo profile message (the bf was present for this, laughing his tookus off, in case you were questioning my morality). And we’re off to the races...

Caller #1 - Keith. He immediately left me a personal message after my profile had been on the line for all but 5 minutes. And I quote, “There’s alot of lying on this line. Maybe I'm too old for you? I dunno.....I’m a 36 year old white male from Vancouver. Looking for the same age...younger...or older, it doesn’t matter. Maybe we’ll end up getting a relationship out of it, or being friends? There’s alot of bullshit on these lines. I want to meet someone normal.”

This man sounds slightly tormented...and clearly has no standards. Never use the word ‘maybe’ on these things. Hey fellas - women like a man who knows what he wants. Next.

Caller #2 - Ryan. “I’m 30, from Surrey, 6’2, 220, slim build, green eyes. Let’s hang out tonight, I want to chat with you.”

Nicely done! This sounds promising. Good show Ryan from Surrey, I hope you’re chatting with an eligible gal as we speak.

Caller #3 - Name unknown. “I’m an energetic white male, 49 years old. I can’t believe it....cant believe time is passing me by so fast. I haven’t been hooked up yet. I’m attractive...I think I am...it’s in the eyes of the beholder. I’m looking to experience activities with someone, and maybe a bright future? I’m a good-hearted gentleman.”

OK - two things here. Girls love a guy with confidence. The delicate flower facade doesn’t go over well with women. Second, this fella reeks of midlife crisis.

Caller #4 - Name unknown. “Hi, what’s up, are you horny tonight?”

He’s forward and knows what he wants. It’s an honest question.

Caller #5 - Sounded suspiciously similar to caller #3. “Hi, I’m wondering how old you are? It’s embarrassing, its been too long. I’m longing to just hug and hold somebody. Well....do the other things too. I’m single and uh...i dunno, um...my last 2 girlfriends...kind of...well, I let them go. They wanted to cause me pain and anguish after they left. I never did them any wrong. Now I'm single.”

I’m certain caller #5 is also caller #3. It seems he wasn’t happy with his first message, so decided to give it another go. I commend his honesty but somehow sense those 2 girlfriends were on to something.

Caller #6 - Name unknown. “5’11, 170 pounds...nice big hard cock.”

Rule of thumb - try to avoid callers who sound like they’re watching the playboy channel.

Caller #7 - John. “Hey ladies, I’m 40, 6’3, very horny and kinky, looking for a live girl to talk soon.”

At least he’s looking for a ‘live’ girl. Good to know.

Please note that the above callers selected the option for ‘meaningful relationships’. I think we’ve heard enough evidence here folks. Perhaps we should let this one die with speed dating.

Taken until proven single

2009-06-15T23:04:00.000-07:00

Penis straws, blow up dolls, and push up bras - oh my. Having just recovered from a weekend of bridal debauchery, it would seem that Whistler, BC has become the most sought after destination for stags and stagettes in this nook of the planet. A pre-marital mecca if you will. Never have I been in the company of so many brides-on-deck, determined to hit one last home run before barreling down the aisle. Fucking. Intense.

I’m happy to report that our bride was definitely the most refined of the bunch, refusing the ridiculous get up, and veil and such. However, I did witness a few theme stagettes worth noting, for example, the pirate stagette complete with wench dresses and eye patches. Very creative. Or, the more common ‘suck for a buck’ tank top where men (with little to no coaxing) will approach the blushing bride and suck a life saver from upon her bosom for one measly buck. Best deal in the bar. How about something more substantial like ‘boobies for doobies’, or ‘hooters for shooters’? Just sayin’.

Let’s not forget about the many stags terrorizing the town as well. As it turns out, a nice selection of boys belonging to a nearby stag joined forces with our foxy crew to party the night away. After several sweaty hours of interpretive dance and inappropriately touching the groom’s blow up doll, some of our ladies lingered back to their condo to keep the party going.

Given a majority of our harem is hooked up or engaged, there was little chance of anything occurring between party A and party B. This fact was made even more apparent when the gals arrived to discover all but one of the boys were married. Turns out they decided to take off their wedding rings before hitting the bar.

Now, I’m not one to judge...wait...wait wait, yes I am. I just wonder, is this the norm? Do all boys go on a stag with the intention of behaving badly behind some poor girls back? Or do married men just not get out much?

One of my fabulous coherts and I engaged in quite the rant while en route back to the city, and as she explained, most men are ‘taken until proven single’. In other words, we are to assume a guy is off the market until you have received confirmation otherwise because there are alot of pricks out there posing as nice, single guys. Scandalous!

This cowgirl would like to go on record stating that I do believe in good guys, love, happy endings, bah bah bah...but apparently there are some dirtbags on the lose. Therefore, we need to look out for each other ladies. It’s a jungle out there.

So let this be a lesson to boys attending stags everywhere - be careful who you hit on...your girlfriend could be getting fed the same lines at a stagette sometime soon.

Girl power possums.
xx

Bollywood, brides and butter chicken...

2009-06-08T21:55:00.000-07:00

...a delicious combination.

Geetan possums! First you have your blushing bride, sparkly and sacred. Next you have dancing and a celebration not unlike something you’d see at the Raja. Then the food....oh GOD the food. In all it’s spicy splendor, a celebration in itself.

I experienced my first Sikh wedding over the weekend, which as I suspected, did not disappoint. Being an avid Bollywood fan and a member of my local Indo Jazz troupe, I was eager to channel my inner bhungra - full stop.

I have to admit, a commentator would have been helpful as I was a little unclear about some of the customary traditions. Case in point, the ‘man exchange’ before entering the temple. Picture a scene in Hawaii; the brides family in silver turbans on one side of the parking lot, the groom’s on the other in dark red, decorating each other with pseudo-flower lays while carrying a family representative over to the other side. Seemingly a combining of families...at least that was my interpretation. Next up, into the temple you go to a smorgasbord of Indo delights. After stuffing my face with a dozen pekoras, I was whisked away to wash up and position my pashmina accordingly, covering my head and shoulders for the ceremony.

Shoes off. Gals on one side, guys on the other, perched on a carpeted floor. Quite comfy really. The boys were given bandanas in coordination with our friends side of the family. Women in colorful suits surrounded our chick crew, head-to-toe in bling. I felt a tad ordinary and under dressed to be honest. The groom’s ensemble was reminiscent of an emperor while the bride was in red and gold. No idea what the Guru was saying, but he was singing each prayer and there was a backup band so it was entertaining nonetheless. Our friend walked his new bride around the Guru 4 times and bada-bing the ceremony was over. Afterwards, the various Gurus dispersed and distributed an oily piece of doe that tasted much like a squishy pancake. Not bad really. I guessed this could be compared to a Catholic communion?

Several hours later it was time to head to the reception. Picture the party of the year, 700 people deep. These people know how to party. Immediately I was made aware of some significant differences in comparison to your typical western wedding. For example, while lining up for a drinks one of our female friends was tapped on the shoulder and asked to sit down. Okie doke, so apparently it’s not appropriate for women to drink. It is, however, more than appropriate for our dates to bring us drinks all night long which suited us just fine.

The groom, in this case, is the star of the show. In the western culture, it’s all about the bride. Whatever she wants, whatever she says...we are trained to bow down and respect the bride-to-be; no questions asked. Not so in the Sikh culture. It’s all about the groom as he delivers the speeches, he is hoisted above the crowd several times as they chant his name, he’s the one who is honored and cheered on. Kind of refreshing really. Why not let the groom have his day in the sun?
The party was produced to P Diddy-like proportions, with big screens streaming live video coverage and a plethora of papparazzi photo documenting the entire event. Quite the spectacle. Many traditions were similar to what I’m used to, for example, the first dance, the ceremonial cutting of the cake, yada yada. A personal highlight was the bride and groom’s grand entrance to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing. Priceless.

The only difference was that dinner was served at midnight. Ouch. The sultry smell of butter chicken lingered from the kitchen for hours only to be held hostage until all the wedding rituals had taken place. Needless to say, by the time the food was served I attacked the closest buffet table in a not-so-lady-like manor. Charming.

After tearing up the dance floor with my very best bollywood moves, we called it a night. I’ve been dreaming in bhungra ever since.

Jai ho.
xx

Summer in the City

2009-06-01T22:02:00.000-07:00

Summer is upon us in Vangroovy, leaving many a Vancouverite feeling just that.....groovy baby. After suffering through another wet, at times demoralizing, winter we say farewell to the gray, the dark and the ugly. We’ve put our parkas in storage, said ta-ta to our toques and downsized that ever-growing pashmina population in our closets. Winter is over! Thank Buddha.

With summer, comes along several warm weather traditions specific to our fair city. I happened upon one of my faves over the weekend, and though it’s changed shape over the years, it still has the same Vancouver vibe. The Chinatown Night Market, reminiscent of the night markets of Kuala Lumpur or crazy Khao San Road in Bangkok, bring an ethnic flavor that makes you feel like you’re traipsing about South East Asia.

En route to the market I strolled past my favorite piece of street graffiti that looks a little like Gord Downey of the Tragically Hip...with a toupee hanging off the back of his head. Hmmmm, how arty.

When I arrived, the place was packed with revelers looking for some cheap street meat or a fake Fendi. As you do. I couldn’t help but snap a few pics of my favorite offerings, such as the plush stuffed animal phone charms. How does one maneuver their mobile with one of those things? Not to be outdone by the ghosts of Olympics past, there was a selection of memorabilia from the 2008 Beijing Summer Games. I couldn’t help but notice the close resemblance to Vancouver’s Olympic Mascots. Funny that.

After a well deserved bubble tea I made my way home, only to be stopped by one of our many homeless folk who wanted to test out a few jokes on me. And I quote “What’s horny and hums?” Needless to say, after the man started humming I made my way outta there. Charming.

With all this talk of summer, I feel obliged to share with you...

The Urban Cowgirl’s Poolside Playlist

Candy, Paolo Nutini
Magic, Ladyhawke
Lovegame, Lady Gaga
107 degrees, Citizen Cope
Use Somebody, Kings of Leon
Boom Boom Pow, Black Eyed Peas
New in Town, Little Boots
Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks
Fame, Scott Weiland
Move For Me, Kaskade
I’m in Miami Bitch, LMFAO
Suavementa, Elvis Crespo
Flashing Lights, Kanye West
Summertime, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince (classic)

Party on possums.
xx

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

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

2009-05-25T21:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-11T22:14:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-04T22:41:00.000-07:00

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

Rock n Rolla

2009-04-20T22:12:00.000-07:00

I like to rock out, now and then, to something of the heavy variety. Don’t be fooled by the cowgirl persona possums, country makes my skin crawl whereas a little death metal can really get this gal groovin’. The rock genre has always been my fave, so I feel that I am somewhat well versed on the subject. Case in point, the contusion on my right shin that remains 5 months after falling off my chair whilst dancing during AC/DC’s Black Ice show. Not my finest moment, but a great time nonetheless.

I recently read an interview where a popular British rock star (or preppy young lad in a red pea coat) made reference to the Grunge era that took North America - and the world really - by storm in the 90’s. Brandon Flowers of The Killers took a stab at the late great Kurt Cobain in an interview with the UK’s Daily Mail, and I quote "I don't mean it in a bad way, but I think Kurt Cobain and grunge took the fun out of rock 'n roll. Everything's changing, though, and it’s starting to become a lot more playful and brighter." I’m sorry? This from a man whose surname is ‘Flowers’ and is responsible for this song?! Are we human or are we dancing? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. If that is considered rock, Lady Gaga is the next Madonna.

Speaking of ‘Gaga’, I can’t help but gag-gag over her latest look. Lady Gaga; she’s neither a Lady nor a Gaga - discuss. Rachel Zoe will be choking on her 100 calorie lunch over this one...

I suppose it’s no better than this...

...or this. Good god.

I won’t be blogging next week as I’ll be kicking it in Cuba - mojito in hand. Look for the Urban Cowgirl Does Cuba post upon my return. Before I bid you a ‘hasta luego’, let’s rock out proper, shall we? Peace out possums. x

Fashion Faux Possums

2009-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

At the ripe ol' age of 30, I'm feeling much too young to be reliving some of the worst fashion trends known to man, but alas, it’s happening. I remember when I bought my first pair of ‘flare’ jeans circa 1994 and my mom saying ‘I wore those when I was your age’. At the time the 70’s seemed ancient, so that comment had merit. Today, however, as I sit in my sky rise apartment perched over the city cringing over the sight of slouchy boots, spandex and neon I can’t help but feel a touch archaic. Ugh.

It’s true that trends can come back full circle, sometimes they make as many comebacks as Cher’s farewell tour. However, that doesn’t mean they should. Over the past few weeks I have endured a few fashion WTF’s that I couldn’t help but share.

The big belt. This is nothing new possums, as we’ve seen this accessory sneak it’s way back into our closets a few times. But must we put a belt on EVERYTHING? Never mind the ring, if you like it then ya shoulda put a belt on it kids because you cannot escape the little cinchers. In one afternoon of shopping, I swear the words “you should throw a belt on it” escaped the mouths of several relentless retailers. It got so bad that during my final stop, I could see an unsuspecting staffer approaching in my peripheral as I slipped out of the change room sporting a summery shift. Before she could manage a word, I interrupted and said ‘let me guess, I should totally throw a belt on it?’ The look of disgust this gal gave me. Priceless.

Just this past weekend I was again blind sided by another trend I thought for sure died with my big hair and risky business Ray-bans. The scrunchie. Yes ladies, it’s back. I have no idea at what capacity...perhaps it’s just a blip? Either way, this is something we simply should not support. Just say no to the stretchy bow. Boycott the scrunchie! I was so appalled, I captured a photo of the fashion catastrophe.

It’s all reminiscent of a popular Sex and the City episode that epitomizes the essence of the scrunchie. You might remember it.

Scrunch out. Keep it scrunchie.
x

Can’t buy me bubbly

2009-04-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

I love champagne. Love it. My gal pals and I enjoy nothing more than a glorious bottle o’ bubbly, preferably on a patio or at a cozy lounge over gossip and such. I also enjoy when complimentary cocktails are sent to our table care of an admirer. Who wouldn’t? I’m lucky to roll with a fairly foxy crew, so a grand gesture of this sort is not exactly unheard of. However, it’s a rarity that we receive a bottle of fine champagne upwards of $150. This does not happen every day possums.

After knocking off work on Friday I raced to an oceanfront patio to meet one of my besties for a beverage in the sun. Bliss. As we caught up over a few pints, we noticed a fine bottle of bubbles headed our way to which we redirected the server advising him that unfortunately he had the wrong table. Moments later our waiter made his way back to our table assuring us that the bottle was in fact for us, care of another guest is the restaurant. Hmmmm. Normally, we would be happy to accept this little bottle of goodness but we both had dates with our respective boys and needed to be cool (somewhat of a feat when this particular bestie and I get together). So we decided to have just one glass and settle our bill.

As we enjoyed the fabulous fizz, we couldn’t help but wonder who might have sent the champagne? My friend’s ex-boyfriend was the bar manager for a time, maybe he sent it? Nope. We called him. I work 2 blocks from this establishment and have produced some fine work as of late, perhaps one of my superiors was having drinks and sent it over? Nope. I walked the perimeter.

Moments later we were rudely accosted by an angry little man who decided to ‘school’ us in front of everyone on the patio. He questioned why we couldn’t have just enjoyed the bottle he and his friend sent over and how blatantly ridiculous he thought we were. After the old boy was finished scolding us, my faithful companion thanked him (and I quote) for his ‘feedback’. Ha.

What this man didn’t realize was that a) we both can afford to buy our own champs and b) it’s not that unlikely that someone we knew could have sent it. As we were wrapping up, we decided to have the bottle re-corked before booking it out of there. As we made our exit, the same geriatric gent shouted across the patio advising us that we shouldn’t take the champs corked, he’d like to buy us a new one. Well that was the cork that broke the camels back. My friend boldly walked over and placed the corked bottle of bubbles on his plate. “There you go Gramps!” Well, that’s not exactly what she said..but it went down something like that.

Grand gestures are great, whether they come from a grandaddy or a pimp daddy. However, the rules in which we are to accept these gestures can be simply outrageous. Sometimes boys should just keep their bubbles to themselves.

Urban Cowgirl Does the Junos

2009-03-30T18:18:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know possums, I am a smidge obsessed with celebs and have been known to migrate towards events that anticipate a star-studded attendance. So when I heard the Junos were coming to town, I knew I had to get involved. For my fabulous foreign readership, the Junos are Canada’s answer to the Brit Awards in the UK, the AMA’s in the States or the ARIA’s in Australia; an annual event showcasing and honoring Canadian music.

Following the announcement that Vancouver would indeed host the event – a mere 3 blocks from my pad – I quickly signed up to volunteer. Ofcourse, with volunteering there is never a guarantee that you’ll be involved in anything glamorous. There’s always a chance you’ll end up selling t-shirts or directing traffic. Luckily I made the cut to be an official ‘seat filler’, meaning when stars and their people go to the loo or hit the bar, you are to scooch yourself into their seat until they return so the seats seem full during the live broadcast. For example, “Oh hello Feist, I’d be happy to keep your seat warm whilst you powder your nose”, and such. This seemed to be my best shot at getting some face time with the glitterati, so I decided to get glam and hope for the best.

Allow me to set the scene: I am seated with Maestro Fresh Wes and his manager who offer me the ticket to my seat, in other words, I’m set for the entire show. Excellent. Not only do I have the best seats in the house, I am surrounded by Canada’s music elite. K.D. Lang and her partner in front of me, Loverboy in front of them. To my immediate right we have Bryan Adams, Michael Buble, Diana Krall, Elvis Costello, Dallas Green, etc. Buble’s Mumsy and Dad were right behind me. Celebrity vantage point – check. I quickly realized, however, that my new BFF Maestro was getting a little fresh with me (pun intended) as he creepishly caressed my hand when I introduced myself and invited me to hit the after parties with him. Sorry Maestro, this cowgirl is spoken for…however I’m happy to play the part of ‘giddy groupie’ to get my ass into an after party.

The Highlights

Nickelback rocked the house, kicking off the show with stripper anthem Something In Your Mouth amidst impressive pyrotechnics.

Russell Peters owned the show as second time emcee, opening with a Bollywood-inspired dance number backed by the Punjabawakis. Loved it. Some of his most notable jabs throughout the night were his references to Anne Murray’s ‘snowbird’, incessant comments about BC weed (which seemingly inspired the set) and a stab at Steven Page’s coke habit.

Sarah McLachlan performed an elegant and moving rendition of her latest single You Want Me 2, undoubtedly inspired by her estranged husband and former drummer Ashwin Sood. Sorrow inspires some of the best songs sadly.

Divine Brown was simply divine. This woman is sex on a stick with a voice to match! Sam Roberts, The Stills, and Simple Plan pulled off a few toe-tappers, despite performing three of the most over-played songs of the past year.

City & Color (insert school girl sigh here) didn’t disappoint and was joined by surprise guest Gord Downie to perform their hit collab Sleeping Sickness. Given I have a mild crush on Dallas Green, I did feel an inkling to trip his pretty VJ wifey as she scooted by me, but luckily I refrained.

Bryan Adams performed his new single (didn’t he retire to become a photographer?) Walk on By with singer/songwriter Kathleen Edwards. Her endearing stage antics and sparkly personality made Mr. Adams himself blush several times throughout their performance.

Hawksley Workman – who has a serious set of pipes - closed the show accompanied by Great Big Sea and Eccodek.

Although Nickelback scored the most statues, Best New Artist and indie darling Lights delivered one hell of an acceptance speech for her big win, making this one of my favorite moments of the night.

The After Party

Thanks to my new BFF Maestro, I managed to secure my spot on the guest list and note which names to drop at the Junos After Party, hosted by do-gooder David Suzuki and the one and only George Strombopolous, ahem, my idol.

I arrived to a discouraging line-up but was delighted when I was easily whisked into the party as I explained I was ‘with Wes’. Ha. Apparently the theme of the event was weirdoes, wannabes and waifs as BC Fashion Week was also hosting a wrap-up event. I was surrounded by hungry glamazons people.

I meandered about the party for a few hours sipping on vodka and spotting celebs and the groupies that hovered around them. Ed Robertson from the Bare Naked Ladies was working the room while Sam Roberts and his band b-lined for the bar. K-OS, true to form, was present but shy and hid under a hoodie most of the night. The foxy brunette from Corner Gas was there (what’s her name again?). Then finally I set my sights on George. Strombo himself, looking rather rock-esque dressed in black adorned with his usual chains and black leather accessories. I love this man. We had a brief chat and snapped a few pics. By this time I was well on my way to crashing.

I never did run into Maestro again, but was satisfied with my ample celebrity consumption. Following one final lap of the buzzing room, I jumped in a cab and made my way home. Mission accomplished.

*After party photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

Attack of the killer brellies

2009-03-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

I’m a Vancouverite, therefore my knowledge around the fine etiquette of umbrella usage is second to none. It’s animal instinct, a sixth sense if you will. If you live in Vancouver or have visited during the winter months you know what I’m on about.

I have no problem with the rain, because a) at least it’s not snowing and b) it’s snowing on the ski hill. I am also a big fan of fashion wellies, which are once again, in style this season. Thank Buddha. My beef, dear possums, is with the folks who can’t seem to figure out the unspoken rules around maneuvering through our busy city avec umbrella. Following a minor incident between myself and a militant man walking down Robson with his golf umbrella today, might I share with you...

The Urban Cowgirl’s 5 Steps to Umbrella Safety

1) Allow umbrella-free folks access to awnings. Some people take a gamble on mother nature and nix umbrellas all together. These people are either new in town or mentally disabled in some way. I digress, give them the awnings if you’re strutting about with a brellie. What do you need anyway, double the coverage? It’s rain people, not an air strike.

2) Much like driving down the street, stay on your own side of the sidewalk. Ditto for your umbrella. Be mindful of your fellow foot traffickers and make room for one another. Don’t lunge at me with your weather weapon. You don’t drive down the middle of the street, same goes for walking with a brellie.

3) When opening your wet umbrella among a crowd, try to avoid spraying your fellow citizens in the face. Just today a gal got off the bus in front of me and opened her soaking wet brellie, showering me with all the goodness that is Vancouver’s liquid sunshine. It’s not a wet t-shirt contest. I’m just trying to get home lady.

4) Brellie thieving. Believe it or not folks, this is a serious issue in our city. I’ll admit, if push came to shove (i.e. I was out on the town and didn’t want to dampen my hairdo) I would resort to this low level thievery myself. However, we do live in a rain forest...be prepared. Pack your brellie just in case.

5) When traipsing about in the rain with friends, either share your brellie or travel in single file. It’s no fun to break through a cluster of brellie clad people, only to be mildly maimed on your way through.

Summer is just a few months away possums, so until then be mindful of your brellie conduct. Look alive...you never know when you could be under attack.

SATC or Brooklyn and babies?

2009-03-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

I love Sex. My friends love Sex, my mom loves Sex...I have a feeling even my boyfriend loves Sex. Dare I say that my Gram loves Sex? Doubtful, as most of the jokes go over her head. I speak of the incredibly popular, cult classic Sex and the City ofcourse. Possums....tisk tisk.

Like many a gal around the globe, I spent 6 years glued to my set watching each and every SATC episode. From Mr. Big and Manolos, to martinis and men that shout profanities whilst climaxing, I still find myself indulging in a Sex marathon now and then. Ahem, reruns that is. (Wink).

Rumor has it that these four fabulous vixens will appear, once again, on the big screen for a ‘final’ installment of SATC. Despite my deep devotion to these characters, I felt more than satisfied following the initial film. It was the perfect ending to a perfect story. Why unravel a perfectly played out plot to make another one? Money ofcourse, but who can blame them.

The film was such a grand event, gathering up my gal pals, heading to the theatre in my frock and heels, finishing up the evening over...you guessed it, cosmos. A tad cheesy, perhaps, but what’s worse is the thought of Kim Catrall canoodling young men and Miranda, played by Cynthia Nixon, making more sarcastic comments about moving to Brooklyn. What on earth do they have to talk about now?

I may as well kick back and watch some reruns of the Golden Girls. It’s amazing how similar the two shows are really...Samantha has the same sexy antics as Blanche, Rose is innocent and optimistic like Charlotte, Dorothy is sarcastic and pessimistic like Miranda and...I guess that leaves Sophia as Carrie? Makes sense, they’re both the wittiest of either ensemble. Picture it, Manhattan, 1997...I was a single gal searching for the fella of my dreams in New York City. Ha.

I’m hardly interested in watching a film about kids, marriage counseling and aging gracefully. The reason the show resonated in the first place was the fact that many of us gals have experienced the dating nightmares they had. And further, their fantasy lifestyle allowed us to indulge in that fantasy with every episode. These women represented strength and empowerment - a revolution of the vagina possums! And now another film. I’m just not buying it. A golden girls movie however...now that I might be interested in.

Holla for a Dolla

2009-03-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

Without harping on the usual economic hoo-ha, i have a few light-hearted stories to share with you possums. Yes, money is tight, the stock market is in the toilet and even Starbucks is losing money. Yet, over the past few days I’ve witnessed a few acts of complete and utter desperation. Pour example...

Exhibit A

All you can eat Thai - nixed. Upon receiving my Thai take out last night, I was appalled to find that the regular all you can eat deal had been canceled. Not available. No goo deal fah yoo folks. Note big nasty red X...

Exhibit B

Handmade poster plastered on a street light across from my apartment, pleading for the safe return of a lost Louis Vuitton bag. Are you facking kidding me? Who in their right mind is going to return a faboosh bag like that? Frankly, I bet that bad boy is listed for sale on craigslist as we speak. Dito for the digi-cam that was left inside. Some homeless dude is eating well for the next few weeks.

Exhibit C - I’m a child hater

Local charities are coming up with sneakier tactics to guilt you into giving up your doe. I’m all about donating to the causes that are most meaningful to you, however being hounded at the check out is not cool. I was hit hard, TWICE in one night en route home after work Friday.

All i was after was some vino accompanied by tasty tofulati, fat free ice cream sandwiches. Dee-lish. However, I was accosted by the cashier at my local Liquor Store asking if I’d like to donate $1 to dry grad. Dry grad? Why, so they can upgrade to a nicer limo? We all know the kids are going to get their drank on anyway. In other words, that $1 goes to the teens who then want to rip it up on prom night, eventually spending my dollar back at the Liquor Store, resulting in more profits for BCLQ. Genius really.

Feeling rather jaded, I popped over to pick up my ice cream sandwiches only to be under attack, once again. This time by a pre-teen pubescent wanting to know if I’d like to make a donation to Children’s Hospital. Well yes, ofcourse I do theoretically. I suppose if I can afford $7 ice cream sandwiches, I should donate to the kids. Fine. Fack, you got me.

If I find that purse, I’m posting it here...starting bid $500. I’ll even donate 10% to charity. Ha.

Donna Summer said it best possums...

Hockey wife or whore bag?

2009-03-02T20:36:00.001-08:00

Over the weekend whilst lunching with some of my favorite luncheon ladies, we were delighted by the appearance of a certain local hockey star. El Capitan himself Roberto Luongo just happened to be popping by for lunch with his brood and was about to be seated a few feet away. Excellent. While my cohorts were gaga over Luongo’s little one, I couldn’t help but take notice of this lovely large man straight away. *Sigh* - I felt like a girl of 20, ahem, something again.

After staring incessantly for a few moments, the Luongo clan was quickly relocated to another part of the restaurant. Not because of said incessant staring...I swear. Rather because his family is the size of Sicily and couldn’t fit in our corner of the restaurant. Ho hum, twas a nice encounter while it lasted. However, as my gal pals and I were saying our goodbyes, a rather irate Mrs. Luongo was making quite the scene outside.

This woman began to shout at her hockey star hubby, siting that some couple inside the restaurant was her cause for frustration. Something to tune of “that couple wasn’t just looking at you, they were staring...they’re always staring at YOU, what am I, chop liver?” Ummmm....yes actually, quite right, you are indeedy chop liver. Luongo = local hero and hockey rock star GOD. You, Mrs. Luongo = puck slut, raving lunatic bisnatch. Why oh why do hockey players always seem to end up with these relentless ingrates. Complete with her Burberry boots and Gucci baby bag, no less. Barf.

The entire episode was reminiscent of Trevor Linden’s retirement ceremony where his wanker wifey behaved in a very similar manner. What is wrong with these women? For once, it would be nice to see a hockey wife worthy of these ice gods.

In other news, I caught the season opener of Celebrity Apprentice last night and realized, Ben Mulroney’s mom may have had a steamy affair with the Donald. Is Donald Jr. Ben's long lost brother?. Possums - dicuss. Evidence below...

Big no no for NASA

2009-02-24T19:58:00.000-08:00

Just a quick one possums...

Perhaps Nasa should be mindful of their navigation skills. Whilst launching a satellite to monitor global warming, it might make sense to AVOID crashing into the ocean near Antarctica, further harming the earth, no?

Come on folks! I hear there's a few brainy people in the NASA camp. Obama might want to put some of his astronauts on probation here, or better yet, fly the rockets himself.

In other news, this has been nagging at me for weeks and I just had to share. Is it me, or is Duffy Dolly Parton's long lost daughter? Or granddaughter rather?

Academy Awards post-game review

2009-02-23T21:33:00.000-08:00

Possums! Did you watch? The 81st Annual Academy Awards certainly did not disappoint, with it’s fair share of surprises, upsets and just plain upsetting choices in attire. Where do some of these stars find their stylists, on craigslist? I digress, let’s discuss some of the most notable moments of the night.

Two thumbs up on Hugh Jackman’s stellar performance as host of the biggest gig in Hollywood. Complete with an opening musical montage and mid-show musical medley with Miss Sasha Fierce herself, is there anything this man can’t do? Wolverine shmolverine...the boy can sing.
Ben Stiller’s Joaquin Pheonix parody...sadly accurate, but hilarious nonetheless.
Tina Fey co-presenting with Steve Martin, taking a dig at Scientology with a sea of Scientologists in the audience - Will and Jada have zero street cred since adopting this bizarre-o religion.
The heart felt presentations delivered by past winners for each of the acting awards, where they share touching stories about each of the nominees. Loved it. I even loved Whoopi in all her leopard print glory.
Heath Ledger’s parents and sister accepting the award for best supporting actor on behalf of Ledger’s daughter Matilda. Not a dry eye in the house folks.
Jen Aniston co-presenting with Jack Black while Brangelina was seated just a few feet away. She even shot the power couple a big grin, seemingly 50% genuine and 50% ‘look at me with my loyal boy toy at my side, canoodling me nonstop’. John Mayer was on his best behavior, cuz clearly Jen’s bod is a wonderland.
Robert Pattinson who plays Edward Cullen in the popular vamp film Twilight. I’m mildly obsessed with this actor who also happens to be a minor. Pervy? Maybe.

And now possums, let’s talk frocks with the...

Urban Cowgirl’s Fashion Flop or Fashion Fabulous - Oscar Edition

The Flops - I'm tempted to try and pluck all of the sparkly petals from Miley's disastrous dress; Jessica Biel looks like she's about to dive into a lobster dinner; Viola Davis looks like a Ferrera Roche, i just want to unwrap her chocolaty goodness; John Legend's lady friend looks like her ta-tas are about to break free from that dress, two words - wardrobe malfunction.

The Fabulous - Taraji P. Henson has got me straight trippin' boo with her beautiful gown, and although a tad bridal-esque, she rocks the look well; SJP was fairytale fabulous in her Dior dream, minus the strange man on her arm...oh wait, that's her hubbie; Natalie Portman was a knock out in this pretty-in-pink number; Kate is simply elegant in YSL.

The most memorable, and perhaps tear jerking moment of the night was during Kate Winslet’s acceptance speech for Best Actress where she asked her dad to whistle so she could see where her parents were sitting in the audience. We heart Kate. Let’s relive this one, shall we?

From Penalty Killing to Oscar Predictions

2009-02-16T21:44:00.000-08:00

Ok possums, before I start going off about my excitement over the upcoming Academy Awards and begin spilling my predications, allow me to take a moment to talk about our beloved (for the most part) Vancouver Canucks.

With the risk of jinxing our rather stellar improvement as of late, I have to express my complete and utter gratitude towards our team and apologize for, again, rolling off the bandwagon. But you see possums, this is what we do, isn’t it? As Canucks fans, it’s not uncommon for us to be in love with the Sedin sisters one day, and absolutely despise them the next. That’s just how we roll in this city, we’re fickle fans. However, the moment things start looking up - as they are at the mo - I’d bet you a case of Wildcat that we are some of the most passionate fans on the planet.

Taylor Pyatt, if you are for some reason reading this blog (and I'm sure there’s a chance that you are), please know that I’m the one screaming outlandishly in your favor at every game I attend. I’M the one defending you in the stands and fighting for your honor. I’M the one that thinks, should you decide to hang up your skates one day, that underwear modeling is certainly a possibility. I’d even provide my services as your publicist.

In other news, it’s that time of year again possums! The Academy Awards are a mere 6 days away, and like many of you (I affectionately assume), I’ve been in the midst of a moviegoing frenzy. Without further aduie, may I present...

The Urban Cowgirl’s 2009 Academy Award Predictions

Best Picture - Slumdog Millionaire. Not because they’ve cleaned up at all the award shows, but because the film takes a popular western show and uses it to creatively tell the story of the awful conditions that orphans are faced with in India. It also demonstrates what a magical place India is, so I suspect there will be bhungara in the streets to the tune of 1 billion + people come Oscar night.

Best Actor in a Leading Role - Mickey Rourke. My heart says Sean Penn, but my gut tells me that Rouke has it in the bag this year. The Academy likes a comeback (as does Hollywood, ahem, Britney) and tends to shy away from controversy. Given the awards take place in a state that has recently banned gay marriage, something tells me Milk may be overlooked.

Best Actor in a Supporting Role - Heath Ledger. I truly believe this is not just a memorium of Heath’s life, but rather a celebration of his short yet impactful body of work. There won’t be a dry eye in the house possums...it’s sure to be a pivotal point of the evening.

Best Actress in a Leading Role - Kate Winslet. This saucy minx manages to drop her drawers for the big screen once again, but always in the right context. There is nothing this British bird can’t do cinematically. However, as much as I enjoyed her in The Reader, I’m surprised she wasn’t nominated for her heart wrenching role in Revolutionary Road. Either way Kate, we love you.

Best Actress in a Supporting Role - Taraji P. Henson. This one appears to be a wild card, as we have five fantastic performances on our hands, all for different reasons. However, from my perspective, Henson’s performance really stood out.

Cast your own votes possums with the NY Times and check back to see how your movie critic skills measured up!

And now, let’s bhungara...

Sugar Daddy's Need Not Apply

2009-02-09T21:52:00.000-08:00

While sipping some prosecco at a local lounge over the weekend, my gal pal and I were subject to some surprising male advances. Not surprising as in ‘oh my, that boy who resembles Jake Gyllenhaal wants my number’, but surprising as in ‘oh my, you’re old enough to be my granddad’. There are some anxious geriatric gents on the loose in this town ladies and they’re hittin’ the Vancouver scene - hard.

Although my friend and I are both involved with boys of our own, that’s not to say we’re not open to some friendly banter with boys at the bar now and then. However, when the “boy” in question is that of a 70 plus pensioner from North Carolina, it begs the question - what on earth makes these men think they stand a chance?

At what point do men acquire the manjigglys to approach gals roughly 40 years their junior thinking they may have a shot? Two words - dolla bills. These said old boys will often cruise for younger ladies under the assumption that their money will win us over. Here’s my point possums - not all women are money hungry. Most women these days earn they’re own income and need not resort to a roll in the hay with a Hugh Hefner type to taste the good life.

So there we are, enjoying our cocktails and tapas, when I see our subject about to make his approach. A somewhat solid swagger, I’ll admit. However, he makes it immediately clear that he has some serious cash, as he lists the various properties he owns around town, even inviting my friend to take a ride on his float plane. Meanwhile I’m thinking to myself, ‘you’re barking up the wrong tree Daddy Warbucks’.

To top it off, this man was simply oozing with style...if it were 1975. Sort of a Tom Jones meets Mr. Kotter facade. So naturally I let him have it. Yes, possums, in my very best southern drawl (to speak at his level ofcourse), I inform our old chap that my friend will not be taking a ride on his float plane and perhaps he should approach someone more age appropriate. He did not take kindly to my comments nor did he enjoy my impression of his Ross Perot-esque accent. Hmph, tough crowd.

After making a swift and somewhat awkward exit (avoiding Mr. Jones at all cost) I continued on my rant for a few blocks, educating innocent bystanders along the way - pervy middle aged ballers should simply behave or buggar off.

The Urban Cowgirl's - Make it a Double

2009-02-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

Grammys Double Take

As I kick back to indulge in the 51st annual Grammy awards, something donned on me while watching the celebs rock the red carpet. Is Chad Kroeger Robert Plant's long lost son?

Ponder it possums...

PS Paula Abdul seems high...just a touch.

Double Standards for Female Celebs

2009-02-02T23:54:00.000-08:00

While we linger in line at our local grocery store, it’s not uncommon to open an issue of US Weekly to an article detailing the growth of some female celebrity's derriere. The madness that is the media continuously contributes to this type of sensationalism and somehow we always buy in. Does it make us ‘regular’ folk feel better to know that we’re not the only ones that struggle with our weight? Perhaps demonstrating that celebrities sometimes battle the bulge too makes us feel a bit better about our own bods? Well ofcourse it does. I for one am not going to pretend like I didn’t enjoy those pics of Jennifer Love Hewitt’s butt bulging out of her a bikini a while back, but that’s besides the point.

What really gets my nickers knotty is the fact that male celebs are exempt from this kind of ridicule. When it comes to packing on a few pounds, why must the media overlook the men? As you may have imagined possums, I found myself rather fired up on the subject so i felt it only appropriate to feature a few male celebs who have tacked on a little tubb as of late.

Exhibit A - Val Kilmer

Remember the days when Val was known for his chiseled features and bangin’ bod? Two words - Ice Man. Not to mention his role as the late great Jim Morrison. The thought of those leather pants still lingers ladies...seriously. However, let’s take a peek at the once Batman now fatman, formally God-like Kilmer:

Exhibit B - Alec Baldwin

Alec has gone from a Baldwin to a Barney over the past decade or so, and although he’s still handsome and hilarious in his role on 30 rock...it’s time to hit the ol’ treadmill AB:

Exhibit C - Russell Crowe

A memorable scene from Sex and the City comes to mind where the gals are gabbing about the many men they fantasize about while Carry cites Crowe as her spank bank member of choice. I highly doubt many gals are getting off to the thought of Russell wrangling tigers a la Gladiator these days:

Exhibit D - Tom Cruise

Once again, I find myself reminiscent of another Top Gun alumni, because let’s face it...nothing beats a strapping young lad in a flight suit. Damn. Tommy had a brief turn with turtlenecks last year...to hide what undoubtably looked like some extra pounds, and dare i say...a double chin:

I don’t mean to hate on some of our favorite male celebs, but something had to give. Besides, hasn’t Jessica heard enough about those high wasted jeans? I certainly have.

Night night possums
xx

Done with doom and gloom

2009-01-26T21:57:00.000-08:00

Yes possums, it’s true, we’re in a recession...as if I had to remind you. Thanks to a plethora of economic wizards around the world, we are reminded each and every day that the world’s financial climate is officially in the shitter. I don’t know about you, but I'm a smidgen sick of the statistics, the daily layoff tallies, and staring at a somber Pamela Martin regurgitate the same news night after night. She should seriously reconsider her hair style by the way, but I digress. Two thumbs down I say!

Instead of monitoring your financial statements, might i suggest you step out of reality for a moment to engage in some fiscally responsible activities sure to help you break free from budgeting while having a well-deserved belly laugh. With that, allow me to share with you the...

Urban Cowgirl’s Top Economic Exertions

1) A dear friend of mine passed along this little jewel - completely bizarre, but something about it makes me want to crank it on my ipod and beat someone with my ‘rhythm stick’.

2) Apologies go out to my cat-loving loyalists, but I find this rather amusing. Silly kitty.

3) Go straight to your nearest skytrain station and wait for a busy train to unload. When the passengers make their dash to the exit, stop someone and pretend that you know them. Make a scene! Accost them with an enthusiastic embrace if you will, then sit back and watch in delight while they walk away bewildered by your brazen attack of affection. Call it economic love.

4) Catch a comedy show featuring some homegrown talent, like lovable local comic Darcy Micheal. I use the term ‘lovable’ loosely as he will affectionately abuse you should you situate yourself in the front row, however this politically-charged pot head is a must-see.

5) Pop down to Denman Street for Beard Papa’s fresh ‘n natural cream puffs. They are neither a beard, nor a papa. Just a cream puff. Puzzling yet pretty tasty.

I felt a little Jerry Maguire-esque with this post. Like I had to come up a mission statement to save my possums from full-on financial misery. Instead, I choose Youtube...and Beard Papas.

Cin Cin possums
UC xx

From estranged to engaged

2009-01-19T22:30:00.000-08:00

In recent weeks it has donned on me that a flurry of ex-boyfriends are getting hitched in this town. I say this only because a collection of my closest girlfriends - all at once it would seem - have come to me with the news that an ex has recently popped the question. No big deal right? Simply not so possums.

These said girlfriends have since moved on to other relationships, in some cases many times over, yet somehow the news of an ex-boyfriend’s pending nuptials still gets under a gals skin. Why do women feel an inkling of jealousy when news like this is brought to our attention? If we’re over these boys as we say, what gives?

The fact is, women tend to indulge themselves in the fantasy of what the future might look like with each and every boy we date. It’s just how we’re built. Deny it if you will ladies, but you know what I’m talking about. We can’t help ourselves, it’s something to do with the make-up of our inner psyche. One of the many woes of being a girl I suppose.

Men, on the other hand, do not give this kind of thing another thought. They couldn’t give a shit, dare I say. Nor do they fantasize about their wedding tux, where they might honeymoon, or maintain a shortlist of names for their first born child. It just doesn’t happen people. For men, planning ahead might be as extensive as ironing ones shirt for work the next day. Perhaps determining which UFC fight to PVR or what football game to bet on might sum up a man’s most prominent thoughts more accurately. You don’t often overhear a man say “She did it! She went and got engaged! Can you believe that bitch?” Not likely.

Why do we gals take this so personally? I too have an ex-boyfriend who was recently engaged and I can honestly say I’m thrilled for the little nugget. Do I expect an invite to the wedding? I suspect hell might freeze over before that happens. I will admit, however, a small part of me (the not-so-nice part) might in some way hope his bride-to-be trips whilst strutting down the aisle. Harsh? Maybe. My feminine psyche made me say it.

Too Posh to Pick Up the Poop

2009-01-12T22:03:00.000-08:00

Last week a dear friend of mine rang me to rant about a particular neighborhood in our fair city with a bit of a shitty habit (pun intended). I’m a big fan of the furry four-legged members of our community, however the people in which they belong to need to clean up their act - literally.

Nothing puts a damper on ones day like discovering that you’ve traipsed through some dog doodie while strutting down the street. Picture it possums; you’re en route to dinner with friends sporting some hot new heels and ‘splat’...you’re amidst a mound of ca-ca. Or worse, imagine you’re late for a blind date and have to duck into an alley to ditch the dog doodie from beneath your Burberry ballerinas. Sacrelig.

It just so happens that I’m in the midst of relocating to this part of town and felt the need to post a plea to these people who fail to pick up after fido. Passing by a pile of poop in this part of town, or any other for that matter, is simply unacceptable. Pack some baggies next time you walk your pooch people. Surely there’s a bylaw in place for this...

With that, I’ll leave you with this fabulous doggy ezine I discovered. Dog lovers subscribe here!

Woof woof possums.

En route to the Oscars

2009-01-05T20:36:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year possums! I hope we’re all keeping up with our new years resolutions. I for one have broken each and every one of mine...well, really only one which is drink less wine. Dammit. So many yummy varietals. Kudos to those of you that are on track, however.

Let’s talk film, shall we? This time of year sends me into a rather psychotic tail spin as I become desperate to see every film ‘predicted’ to earn an Academy Award nomination. I find the Golden Globes are a useful tool for planning my film viewing game plan as their nominee list is a fantastic guideline. It is absolutely imperative that I am one step ahead of the Oscar nominee announcements. Obsessed you say? Perhaps. Just roll with it possums, my intention is to ensure you enjoy the best cinematic experience possible...ahem...let’s get started...

The Urban Cowgirl’s Holiday Film Review

Milk - inspiring, eye-opening and devastating all in one. Sean Penn delivers one of his best performances in this historical flick based on the true life story of Harvey Milk; gay rights activist and the first openly gay man to be elected into public office in the U.S. Also starring Josh Brolin and Emile Hirsch, it's a very important film and a triumphant story!

5 Cowboys out of 5 - giddy up!

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - a heart warming escape into the life of a boy with a condition that sees him born with the physical condition of an 80 year old, yet he improves with age, seemingly aging backwards. The historical references, elements of sincere human kindness and the love story between Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett’s characters are simply stunning.

4 Cowboys out of 5

Slumdog Millionaire - based in India, it’s the story of two orphaned brothers (Salim and Jamal) struggle to survive on their own while hustling their way around India until they separate because of their differing values. Jamal’s kind heart and love for a childhood friend leads him to becoming a contestant on the Indian version of ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire’, which is how the film is cleverly narrated. Great storytelling; a must see!

4 Cowboys out of 5

Seven Pounds - I balled my bloody eyes out possums. Will Smith hits it out of the park with this selfless tale of a man tormented by a fatal mistake that leaves him yearning to end his life, but not before he changes the lives of 7 others in a dramatically positive way. Rosario Dawson was incredible in this film and deserves a nom for Best Supporting Actress (if it were up to me that is).

5 Cowboys out of 5 - yeehaw!

Burn After Reading - the Cohen brothers are true to form in this quirky yet hilarious tale surrounding a secret file that is found by ‘Hardbodies’ staff members (Frances McDormand and Brad Pitt) which unfolds several intertwining story lines resulting in a ridiculous yet fitting conclusion. Cohen brothers sweetheart McDormand manages to deliver her usual awkward yet endearing performance while George Clooney, Tilda Swinton and John Malkovich hold their own in this film.

3 Cowboys out of 5

The Urban Cowgirl’s Must See List

The Reader - starring Kate Winslet, David Cross and Ralph Fiennes, it’s the story of an affair between a teenage boy (Cross) and a Nazi German (Winslet) who is later on trial for war crimes only to have her teenage fling participating as a member of the jury trying her 10 years later. Winslet sure likes to get naked and get busy in her films. We likey.

Revolutionary Road - Kate Winslet reunites with Leo DiCaprio while Winslet’s husband Sam Mendes directs in this emotional drama. They say it’s an American classic...already. I just want to check out those steamy love scenes between Winslet and DiCaprio...they’ve come a long way from a censored shag on a boat.

Frost/Nixon - a Ron Howard directed film, starring Frank Langella as Richard Nixon and Michael Sheen as David Frost, a British journalist famous for his persistent interview tactics surrounding Nixon’s Watergate scandal. Sheen gave an excellent performance as Tony Blair in The Queen so I’m curious to catch him in this flick.

The Wrestler - Mickey Rourke makes a critically acclaimed comeback in this drama documenting the life of a professional wrestler. Also starring Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood. I’m not a Rourke fan, but the reviews are off the hook.

Doubt - based on the popular Broadway play and starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Amy Adams, this film depicts a controversial scandal which takes place in a Catholic school in the Bronx, New York. The onscreen dynamic between Streep and Hoffman seems intense!

Grab some popcorn and your plus 1 and catch a few flicks this month. I’ll have more next week on the outcome of the Globes and who was wearing the most garish get up.

Until then my fellow movie revelers, I'll leave you with the trailer for Milk...
UC xx

The Greats of 2008

2008-12-29T20:30:00.000-08:00

Possums! Did we all survive the holidays? I managed to overindulge within an inch of my life with every goodie and cocktail I could get my mutt hooks on. Tis the season so they say (they obviously aren’t worried about fitting into their New Year's Eve frock).

As 2008 comes to a close, many bloggers the world over are pumping out their ‘Best Of’ lists so I thought I might throw together a little complication of my own, with the Urban Cowgirl’s Top 5’s for 2008.

Top 5 Albums

5) Kanye West: 808’s and Heartbreaks
4) Lil Wayne: Tha Carter 3
3) Metallica: Death Magnetic
2) Kings of Leon: Only By the Night
1) Duffy: Rockferry

Top 5 Singles (that make you wanna get down and krunky)

5) So What, Pink
4) Mercy, Duffy
3) Give It to Me, Madonna
2) Let It Rock, Kevin Rudolph & Lil Wayne
1) Everyone Nose, N.E.R.D.

Top 5 New Artists

5) Lady Gaga
4) Paramore
3) Katy Perry
2) Estelle
1) Kate Nash

Top 5 Movies

5) RocknRolla
4) Changeling
3) Vicky Cristina Barcelona
2) Mama Mia
1) Seven Pounds

Top 5 Hottest Trends

5) 1920s
4) Oxford prep
3) Barack Obama T’s
2) Jewel tones
1) Eco-friendly fabrics

Top 5 Worst Trends

5) Neon (I buried this away with my big 80’s hair)
4) Chicks in menswear (‘boyfriend’ jeans = barf)
3) Plaid (Eddie Vedder called...)
2) John McCain T’s
1) Skinny jeans on boys

Top 5 Concerts

5) Foo Fighters
4) Jay Z @ Pemberton Festival
3) Citizen Cope
2) Madonna: Sticky & Sweet Tour
1) ACDC: Black Ice World Tour

Top 5 Comebacks

5) 90210 (although, no Dylan McKay = no likey pour moi)
4) New Kids on the Block (selling out stadiums world wide; who knew?)
3) Robert Downey Jr’s film career
2) The Clintons are back the White House (sort of)
1) Britney Spears (I have a soft spot in my heart for Brit Brit)

Top 5 Moments (that made us chuckle)

5) Evolution of Dance c/o YouTube
4) Jason Segel in Forgetting Sarah Marshall
3) Tina Fey and Amy Poehler’s political parody on SNL
2) Robert Downey Jr. in Tropic Thunder
1) Jizz In My Pants

Many of you have asked me ‘why possum?’ so I thought I’d come clean and admit this is something I picked up from my favorite Aussie comedian Dame Edna Everage (Barry Humphries).

Happy New Year possums! I look forward to blogging at you in 2009. xx

The Urban Cowgirl’s Year in Review

2008-12-22T22:15:00.000-08:00

Seasons greetings possums! With Christmas a mere 3 days away, I thought I might take this opportunity to reflect on 2008 with you, my faithful readers. The past 12 months have been eventful to say the least. Let’s break it down, shall we...

A Maple Leaf Foods plant is linked to an outbreak of Listeriosis causing folks across Canada to clear their fridges of any tainted meat products. Has anyone seen the Maple Leaf ads with their CEO making a public plea to continue to buy turkeys from them this holiday season? I’d rather serve Spam thanks.

Some poor fella has his head lopped off by a lunatic while traveling on a Greyhound bus in Manitoba. I get annoyed with riff raff on the bus myself, funnily decapitation hasn’t once crossed my mind.

Team China enlists under-agers to compete in gymnastic events during the Beijing Summer Olympics. Oops, that hasn’t been proven yet. Right.

Sarah Palin endeavors to take over the White House alongside John McCain in the 2008 U.S. presidential election and can see Russia from her front porch. She was also one of Googles top search words for 2008.

Heath Ledger dies of an accidental overdose and gives one of the years best performances as the Joker in The Dark Knight. If you haven’t seen this film, check it out over some ‘nogg this holiday.

The Jonas Brothers are famous. What the fuck.

Barack Obama is the 44th President of the United States of America. Yes he did.

Jen Aniston’s body is a wonderland, then it’s not, oh but wait, now it is again. John Mayer bounces from various babes, but eventually lands on Team Aniston.

California passes a ban on gay marriage and therefore demonstrates that there is a large population of morons residing in this state. Luckily, Ellen Degeneres celebrated her nuptials to longtime partner Portia De Rossi before this occurred.

Lindsay Lohan’s a lesbo...allegedly.

The Liberals join forces with the NDP and Bloc Quebecois in an effort to overthrow Stephen Harper. Harper pulls the plug on their pity party and puts parliament on hold until the new year.

Jay Z liked it so he finally put a ring on it. Nick cannon did too (but Mariah probably paid for it).

Madonna ditches Guy and is rumored to be running around town with New York Yankees star A-Rod. The boys keep getting younger but Madge just stays the same age.

We’re in a worldwide recession folks. In case you hadn’t noticed.

Brit Brit is back and looking better than ever. Let’s hope she avoids another buzz cut followed by an angry brellie attack.

OJ Simpson is sentenced to 15 years in prison. Better late than never.

CTV sells out over sensational coverage of the recent Blackcomb Gondola incident. Given CTV was awarded exclusive rights to cover the 2010 Winter Games, it all seems a tad counterproductive, no?

Trevor Linden retires his jersey to the rafters of GM Place. You may have been #16 on the ice Trev, but you’ll always be #1 in our hearts.

December brings crazy snow storms to our fair city, making it impossible to wear heels or drive without owning an off-road vehicle. I feel as though I’ve been quarantined.

Merry merry possums, I hope Santa spoils you all rotten.

Merry Frickin Christmas

2008-12-15T21:54:00.000-08:00

With only 9 days left before Santa suits up for his worldwide jaunt, one would think people would be in a somewhat merry mood. Feeling rather merry myself, I stepped out for a stroll along our seawall this afternoon to frolic in the snow and soak up some sunshine. Before embarking on my walk, I popped some trash into a neighbors dumpster, only to be viciously accosted...by an 80 year old woman. She had a thick accent (maybe German?) so it was hard to make out what she was shouting, but clearly she was not happy that I put garbage in her dumpster. She continued to holler at me for about a block as I ignored her, trying to shake off this blatant attack.

Now, I dare not diss the elderly (a little shout out to my Gram here), however this is not the first time I have had a run in with the local retired folks. My neighborhood has a high population of pensioners, with a median age of what feels like 70. It just so happens that I’m relocating to another area of the city in the new year, so I’m hoping they don’t follow me.

After a lovely winter stroll, I decided to brave the mall (aka the den of holiday hell) to get my shopping done, in one valiant sweep. Take my advice possums, Christmas shopping doesn’t have to cause you a merry meltdown, you just need to make a list. Get your game plan together and get in and out, like you’re going into Christmas combat. So in manner of G.I. Jane, I hit the shops only to be accosted once more by the cosmetic girls peddling perfume packages, crazed shoppers shoving their way past me, hordes of hoochies exiting Holt Renfrew, and so on. Slowly, I could feel my festive spirit sucked from within me.

Feeling rather defeated, I drug my weary ass home for a well deserved candy cane martini (see recipe below). I turned on my Christmas tree and quite fittingly discovered the movie Scrooged is on TV tonight. Yes! I hope the German granny across the street is watching...

Candy Cane Martini

1.5 ounces of grey goose vodka
1/2 ounce peppermint schnapps
splash of soda
garnish with small candy cane

BREAKING NEWS: Get me some lipstick

2008-12-10T11:43:00.000-08:00

It’s official possums; the news we’ve all been dreading to hear. The Bank of Canada has officially announced that we are, in fact, in a recession. Thank you to all the financial tipsters for bringing this to light. God bless you.

Come the fuck on ya’ll, I’m confident most of us knew that already. However, one statistic that stands interesting during all of this corporate turmoil, is the fact that lipstick sales are up. That’s right folks, one key indicator that your economy is in the toilet is when women are buying lipstick in excess and the cosmetic companies are loving it. Thank goodness someone is enjoying the fruits of this fiscal meltdown.

The reason us gals are looking to lipstick is simply because many of us can’t afford the usual retail therapies, i.e. a hot new dress from Holt’s or a Cole Haan holiday clutch. Thus, to make us feel like we’re sporting something new, we turn to la bouche.

So ladies, here’s a few shades you might like to consider:

Welfare cheque cherry
I can’t pay my rent raspberry
Pucker up payday loan
Berry bad economy
Shortfall shimmer

...and my personal favorite...

Fiscally responsible red

Happy shopping girls! It’s off to the MAC store I go.

Bitten by the Christmas Bug

2008-12-08T21:47:00.000-08:00

During the holidays, more than any other time of year, we are somehow inspired to be a bit more compassionate towards others. Generosity comes in many forms, whether that be a donation to a local charity or simply holding the door for a frazzled shopper.

It never ceases to amaze me when I hear a great story on the news about someone’s random act of kindness during the holidays. What truly amazes me however, is that there are grinches out there who try to spoil the season for the less fortunate in our community. When I read that the Salvation Army was robbed at a cost of $25,000 and the Surrey Food Bank had been hit 5 times by thieves, I was inspired to share with you...

The Urban Cowgirl’s Top 10 Ways to Spark your Christmas Spirit

10) Donate to Vancouver’s Covenant House
9) Drop off some nonperishable food items, unwrapped toys or a cash donation to your local food bank
8) Adopt a family through the Salvation Army
7) Adopt a nest from the Stanley Park Ecology Society
6) Sponsor a family through the Vancouver YWCA
5) Give to the Union Gospel Mission by purchasing a gift of comfort or peace from their online catalogue
4) Donate or volunteer for the BC Persons with AIDS Society (BCPWA)
3) Head to the downtown Costco this Friday to contribute to The Beat Cares Holiday Toy and Food Drive
2) Make a donation when casting a vote for your favorite tree at the Sutton Place Hotel, benefiting Canuck Place
1) Stretch your generosity around the world by donating to the Red Cross

Allow me to share with you possums a short video (produced by yours truly) documenting the 14th floor of my building. This lovely gal decorates her entire floor for Christmas every year, complete with goodies for visitors to help themselves to. She’s clearly been bitten by the Christmas bug.

Drama in Ottawa

2008-12-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

As many other Canadian bloggers have done this week, I felt the need to blog it up a bit concerning all the hoopla surrounding the proposed coalition. Allow me to break it down for you, in my most educated cowgirl speak...

The Coalition Parties

Let’s start with Stephane Dion. Why oh why would the Liberals elect this man to lead their party? During the federal election, my support for the Liberals was lost due to his condescending tone and angry demeanor. Why must he behave like such a whiney bitch? Sore loser, that’s why. His national address, which clearly displayed Dion at his finest, arrived 1 hour late and was out of focus. When President Bush makes an address to the US there’s catchy music, top of the line production and a flashy back drop. You almost expect some dancing girls to pop out behind him. Not here in Canada folks. Instead, Dion resorted to something that resembled that of an amateur youtube video. Nice work. Can we bring back Jean Chretien please?

Enter Jack Layton, leader of the NDP Party and Dion’s new BFF. It appears that Layton is taking the reins on this one, placing Dion in his shadow. At least he speaks English. Just a tip Layton, lose the porn stash.

Next up, the Bloc. Can’t we just give these folks ownership of an island in the arctic archipelago? If they want to separate so badly, why stop them? Aller mes amis. However, don’t think you’ll be leaving with the largest province in the country, placing a hole in the heart of Canada. Put your parkas on and relocate.

Although not officially part of the coalition, the Greenies have expressed their support. I quite like the idea of the Green Party assuming a few seats in the house. These folks aren’t exactly capable of balancing a federal budget, but I think they have a place in parliament in terms of raising awareness on the subject of sustainability and the environment. Go green.

Our PM

During Stephen Harper’s national address, he had the opportunity to level with the Canadian public and focus on what’s best for Canada. However, he blew it by using his prime time TV spot to campaign for his party, and further campaign for his job. He repeatedly says that he want to ‘focus on what’s best for Canadians’, yet he’s not exactly playing by this principle. By the way, where are his PR people? Harper comes across far too stuffy. Just because you’re the leader of the Conservative Party, doesn’t mean you have to dress so conservatively. You’re the Prime Minister for god sake, invest in a nice suit...but not too spanky, we’re in a recession,

Have the conversation

If nothing else, the proposed coalition has sparked dialogue regarding our political system and hopefully inspired people to learn a bit more about proportional representation (myself included). What would be the impact of a coalition government on the Canadian electoral system? Seemingly, a coalition government is a truly proportional representation of the people but can anything really be accomplished? This is what we should be asking ourselves possums.

It also raises the question; is a pluralistic system like we currently have the best option for Canada? Where disproportional seat distribution results from the division of voters into multiple electoral districts, creating a winner takes all system. As one friend put it; “the Conservatives represent 35% of the house, so that means 65% of the votes didn’t count...so why vote?”

Thankfully the Gov General has postponed parliament until the Conservatives present their budget in January. Given the shaky economy, is this really the best time to be experimenting with democracy anyway? After all, it is the holidays. Perhaps our political leaders should kick back and enjoy some rum and eggnog.

Be Frugally Festive

2008-12-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

Well hellooooo possums! It’s December (in case you lost track) and the countdown to the big day is on. Tickity tick tick, time to get a move on with your holiday shopping. I know what you’re thinking...gag me with a yule log, but don’t fret just yet. I’ve compiled a list of tips to stay frugal but festive over the holiday season. Fa la la la la...

Do pre-drinks. Has the economic downturn put a damper on your happy hour? Nonsense. No need to blow a wad on a beefy bar bill, invite friends over to have a few pre-drinks before heading to your local lounge.

Stuff your socks. Instead of indulging in big gifts this year, why not buy a few stocking stuffers for each of your loved ones instead? We’re all adults here possums and let’s face it - Santa’s not comin’. Ditch the over priced gifts under the tree, stocking stuffers are so avant-garde.

Spread some Christmas spirit. True, most of us will accumulate more hangovers in this one month then we do in a year but there is more to the holidays than hanging your head in the toilet. Volunteer at a local shelter or soup kitchen, or host a dinner where all your guests bring a cash donation, nonperishable food item or an unwrapped toy.

Don’t stuff Santa in the mailbox. Instead of spending hours churning out Christmas cards, send a little holiday love online. Conduct your own digital photo shoot, create your own e-card and send it via email to your friends and family. Cost = nothing. Carbon footprint = nada.

Trade spending for sparkle. Looking for a festive activity to share with your ankle biters or significant other? Take a walking tour through some of the city’s most spectacular light displays, with the Urban Cowgirl’s favorite festive places to frolic:

1) The big tree at English Bay (Beach Ave @ Bidwell St)
2) St. Paul’s Hospital Lights of Hope display
3) The courtyard of the Sheraton Wall Centre
4) The green and red sails at Canada Place
5) Harbour Centre Christmas tree
6) The sparkly floating tree in Lost Lagoon

Tis the season to save some dolla bills ya’ll.

Are you dating a Doug?

2008-11-17T16:26:00.000-08:00

Just the other day I found myself at the mercy of my local esthetician, getting a much needed mani/pedi combo, when these two gals plopped down in the massage chairs next to me. Having wandered in on my own, I couldn't help but indulge in their neighboring gossip session. Goodie.

As the girls prepped for an afternoon of pampering, I overheard them admiring each others Louis Vuitton bags...which were identical. Gag me with a nail file. They then moved onto a subject matter most commonly overheard in any spa or beauty salon the world over - dating. I guess these gals were so over gossiping about politics and the state of the economy. Ha.

One of them was moaning over her inability to meet Mr. Right and that she was tired of always dating the bad boy. Then I overheard her say, “Why can’t I just date a Doug?” I’m sorry, wha? According to Miss Louis Vuitton to my left, a ‘Doug’ is a nice, stable guy who wears a suit to work. Interesting...I do believe that I am dating this ‘Doug’ that they speak of. My bf is nice, stable and wears a suit to work, however I don’t think this constitutes Mr. Right (although it seems to have in my case).

Ladies - there are plenty of good guys out there. How about Paul the pipe layer, or Dan the mail man or...Ben the baker (I do know a Ben who is a baker, and he’s lovely). Perhaps us gals should stop looking for love based on stereotypes and open our minds a tad. You never know, your prince charming could be installing your cable as we speak.

Until next time possums, I’ll leave you with one of my faves...

Vancouver Votes

2008-11-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

As the Vancouver civic election approaches, I find myself riffling through campaign pamphlets in an endeavor to make some informed choices. I received a wonderful little booklet in the mail from the City of Vancouver, which includes individual bios for each of the candidates (obviously self-written). In light of my research, I felt I should share with you...

The Urban Cowgirl’s Favorite Mayoral Candidate Quotes:

Patrick Britten, The Nude Garden Party (very progressive)
“We give freedom of person and society, to learn, evolve, work, play, and love; freedom to triumph beyond conceptions in feardom.”
Feardom? I’m sorry Mr. Nude Horticulturist, there is no such word.

Golok Buday
“...he has joked, Philosophized, managed actors (acting careers), illustrated, painted, auditioned as a child, pamphleteered online, and is (born) from a family of active artists, humanists, and entertainers; also scientists and possible athletes.”
Besides the fact that his photo resembles Che Guevara in full-on revolution mode, I am relieved that he lists ‘joking’ as a qualification. ‘Cause if ya can’t joke people, surely ya can’t be mayor.

Menard Caissy
“Currently, I think Crime Property is down & theft is down significantly since November ’05.”
Thank goodness ‘Crime Property’ is down. Thanks tips. Way to cut and paste a statistic from the city’s website into your bio, very resourceful.

Marc Emery, BC Marijuana Party (he admits to inhaling)
“...introduce a regulated, licensed and controlled distribution of currently black market substances. This will dramatically reduce property crime, gang violence & killings, prostitution...”
Yep, yes it would. The Hells Angels are not going to like this one bit.

Mike Hansen
“As mayor of Vancouver I will bring the city into the 21st century.”
Funny, that works out because I’m pretty sure we were headed there anyway, no?

Joe Hatoum
“Hello fellow CITIZENS, & CANDIDATES; VANCOUVER is STILL POLLUTING the OCEAN with TOXIC SEWAGE - 780 million liters a day!!!”
Ok JOE! You DON’T have to YELL!

Angel Jimenez
“IF I’M ELECTED MAYOR I WILL ORDER the Vancouver Police Department to open its files of proven cases of misconduct by the members of the force.”
WE HAVE ANOTHER YELLER FOLKS. Hidden agenda par chance?

Leon Kaplan
“born in Rio......in 1989 moved to Canada and founded the Storefront Paper. Since then I’ve been running storefronts - things immigrants with PhDs do.”
Yikes, someone’s bitter. Why not open a Brazilian BBQ restaurant? We could use more of those...

Betty Krawczyk, Work Less Party (i fully support the formation of this ‘party’)
“...I am very worried about the future, both the immediate future and the long term future.”
Krawczyk also mentions that she is 80 years old. Not sure you should bank on the ‘long term future’ sista.

Jeff Kuah
“...advocate and champion for the rights of crime victims, student rights and human rights.”
Can’t argue with him there, however shouldn’t the mayor be more concerned with the lack of parking on my street or tax credits for self-employed bloggers?

Peter Ladner, Non Partisan Association
“...two-term city councillor...Vice-Chair of the Metro Vancouver Board...member of the Translink Board...35 years experience in public service...founding the award-winning Business in Vancouver weekly newspaper...avid commuter cyclist.”
Shall I go on? Nothing cheeky to report here possums.

R.H. Maxwell N Bur (how exotic)
“No Gay Parade No IOC Legalize Prostitution Large Business close Sunday There will be no Illegal Drugs in Vancouver”
I’m sorry, wha? The city actually allowed that to go to print? Freedom of speech sure walks a fine line with freedom of lunacy. At least he gives a shout out to the hookers.

Bill Ritchie
“Grassroots priorities from a working class grassroots background.”
I’m definitely going to take a grassroots approach to my voting process and somehow skip Ritchie on the ballot, given I’ll be pre occupied being grassroots.

Gregor Robertson, Vision Vancouver
“...Vancouver’s Mayor’s Environmental Award (2003), and the Ethics in Action Award (2004)...Top 40 Under 40 in the Globe and Mail in 2004...was elected MLA for Vancouver-Fairview.”
Despite the accolades above, have a peek at a previous post featuring Robertson. Wasn’t he recently charged with failing to pay his transit fare?

Scott Yee
”I want to build a public housing system.”
Yee provides a formula for this, however it numbed my skull trying to make sense of it so I’ll save you the migraine.

The above quotes were taken verbatim from the City of Vancouver’s Voters Guide. I kid you not possums.

VANCOUVER VOTES SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 15

Ode to the US of A

2008-11-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

Roses are red,
Tomorrow is election day,
It could be the biggest moment,
In the history of the USA,

Both McCain and Obama,
Are nearing the end of the campaign trail,
Some people speculate it’s a clear Democratic win,
But I fear the Republicans are right on their tail,

It’s no time to be complacent,
As Americans have learned in the past,
Hopefully the polling stations will be bumping,
So the US can turn things around fast,

I know from a Canadian perspective,
Most of us will be glued to our sets,
In hopes of a fresh start for our friends down south,
Hopefully Senator Obama knocks out that geriatric old vet,

Send Palin back to Alaska,
To hunt moose and raise all her kids,
Put Obama at the helm of the country,
So he can clean up all the shit,

Admittedly, Joe Bidden is a bit of a snore,
Perhaps Hil should have been Obama’s running mate?
Either way, I think the choice is clear,
Hopefully tomorrow, the US realizes it’s not too late.

In a plea to entice the public to vote tomorrow, sex toy store Babeland (with locations in Brooklyn and Seattle) has vowed to give voters the choice of a free Silver Bullet vibrator OR a Maverick Penis Sleeve with proof of voting for the week following the election. Perhaps some of Vancouver’s sexy-time shops should launch a similar campaign for our upcoming civic election? I like. Thoughts possums?

The Urban Cowgirl’s Top 5 Things I’m So Over Concerning the US Election:

5) Elizabeth Hasselbeck ranting her Republican sentiments across the table on The View whilst battling with Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar.

4) Sarah Palin and John McCain appearances on SNL. I realize this is the first time the show has had successful ratings in years, however it was funny the first time kids...and only the first time.

3) Interrupting regular (and important) programming like Letterman, for example. Shameful.

2) Celebrity endorsements. I’m quite confident that props from Scarlett Johansson, Ditty and the likes aren’t going to improve ones chances of getting elected.

1) The McCain ‘two thumbs up’. Alright already, we get it.

Sticky & Sweet; Hit or a Miss?

2008-10-31T16:08:00.000-07:00

Like many a Vancouverite (about 50,000 to be exact), I too joined the throngs of lace-clad Madonna fans for her Sticky & Sweet spectacle last night. Given my adoration for this woman tips the scale to extreme proportions, I’m going to try to offer a subjective review.

Having seen Madge in concert twice before - Reinvention in Toronto and Confessions in Vegas - I would say Sticky & Sweet was the most digital show she’s done. Less theatrics, more video and computer animation...almost video-game-like in sections. However, the amount of energy exuded by this pint-sized pop star blew me over. The past two tours have been heavy on the yoga, yet this show was just heavy...as in metal.

Since learning guitar for her Music album, Madge continues to play live in all of her shows but she definitely kicked it up a notch with rock out with your cock out versions of ‘Like a Prayer’ and ‘Borderline’ (yes, you heard that right). I’m sorry Madge, AC/DC called, they want their stage antics back. Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was a cool variation but I’m not convinced the crowd agreed.

Video appearances by Timbaland, Justin Timberlake and Pharrell Williams were no surprise and reminiscent of an afternoon watching Much Music. However, the appearance of good ol’ Brit Brit during ‘Human Nature’ was bang on, with footage of the recently recovered train wreck having a break down while locked in an elevator. Yessss, this is the stuff of a great rock show, oops, I mean pop show.

Half way through the show, Madge and a crew of talented musicians and dancers alike rolled through a montage of all her Spanish influenced ditties, topping it off with ‘You Must Love Me’ from Evita. This song, above all others, might best demonstrate Madge’s capabilities as a singer. She’s not just a crotch-grabbing entertainer possums. Loved it.

You could certainly sense the tension around Madge’s recent divorce, especially when she belted out ‘Miles Away’ and ‘She’s Not Me’. Ummmm...is it me, or is this entire album a compilation of Guy Ritchie breakup songs? One must wonder. Nevertheless, it fuels her performance and quite frankly, I like it when she’s mean.

As always, Madge couldn’t resist some politics, comparing John McCain to the likes of Hitler and Robert Mugabe while comparing Barrack Obama to the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa. A tad extreme? Perhaps, yet the Americans sitting beside me were eating it up.

My overall sense while observing the crowd, which seemed to span three generations, was that it was an even mix of moms having a night out, gal pals in their thirties and gay men. I got the impression that some of the older crowd expected Madge to run through all of her 80’s hits as many of these folks fell silent during songs from Hard Candy, but isn’t this the point? You tour when you have new material to perform, no? Further, the reason Madge has stayed so relevant for so long is her capability to change and evolve and grow as an artist.

Despite this said growth, she still has a foul mouth, fingers the crowd and grabs her coochie repeatedly. In that respect, Madonna definitely did not disappoint.

The Urban Cowgirl would like to wish all her possums a very safe and happy Halloween!

The Urban Cowgirl’s Top 30 Before 30

2008-10-27T21:13:00.000-07:00

Having recently reached that sometimes dreadful milestone known as the big 3-0, I find myself feeling somewhat reflective of my messy yet meaningful 20’s. So without seeming like I’ve bought a one-way ticket to Nanahood, I’m celebrating the cunning cougar that I am by sharing with you my Top 30 Before 30 list:

30) Touring the site of Angkor Wat in Cambodia aboard a dodgy rented motorcycle (I have the muffler scar to prove it).
29) Waking up to the view of a crystal clear Harrison Lake from your tent while camping with friends.
28) Hiking the Lares Trek to Manchu Picchu in Peru.
27) Seeing Madonna in concert...twice...oops, three times as of Thursday.
26) Diving the Great Barrier Reef in Australia.
25) Being caught camped out on Trevor Linden’s front lawn in a random stalking attempt.
24) Swimming with hundreds of stingrays at Stingray City just off of Grand Cayman Island.
23) Salivating over Scott Weiland while he slithers about on stage in leather pants, rocking out with Stone Temple Pilots.
22) Watching the sunrise whilst perched upon a sand dune in the Sahara desert.
21) Enjoying one too many white wine spritzer’s at English Bay with your foxy girlfriends.
20) Sailing the Dalmatian coastline of Croatia.
19) Having martinis in Chelsea, Manhattan with your mom.
18) Drinking jungle juice in the Sari Club while visiting Bali, Indonesia (before the 2001 bombings).
17) Spending an afternoon sipping hot chocolate and bailey’s while ATVing with your dad.
16) Island hopping around Bocas Del Toro in Panama.
15) Walking the streets of Vancouver, tipsy and slightly belligerent following a Canucks win.
14) Trekking around northern Thailand, staying with hill tribes each night and smoking a sticky substance that makes you dreamy for days.
13) Flashing the bod to passersby while house boating on Shuswap Lake.
12) Plunging to near death with a bungee cord strapped to your ankles while cruising around New Zealand.
11) Holding a friends new born baby for the first time.
10) Having a good friend draw you a map...and following it to the Pherentian Islands in Malaysia.
9) Establishing an impressive karaoke repertoire including the likes of Queen, The Georgia Satellites, and Shania Twain.
8) Watching an AFL game at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds (MCG).
7) Waking up early to run the Vancouver seawall, joined only by a few blue herons to disturb you.
6) Mastering the use of chop sticks, which is crucial to ones survival when choosing to live in our fair city.
5) Taking in a Flamenco show in Seville, Spain.
4) Learning to cook something apart from turkey burgers and dipping stone wheat thins into cottage cheese (still one of my favorites, however).
3) Swilling back a few double caesars a la apres ski with friends in Whistler.
2) Leaving the devastating hairstyles of the 1990s behind. (Good god, I just threw up in my mouth thinking about it).

And the number one Top 30 Before 30 is...
1) Learning to always have an emergency supply of Grey Goose in your freezer.

Although turning thirty hasn't slowed me down, I must sign off now to put my Nana ass to bed. Bon soir possums.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

Soul searching over Sangria

2008-10-24T16:46:00.001-07:00

After a week of couscous and cumin in Morocco, I made my way to Tangier to board a ferry to Spain. Following a week of constant heat, filth and stank (I'm speaking affectionately here), I was craving some kick ass cuisine and some well deserved beach time.

I decided Malaga would be my home base for the south of Spain, birthplace of thee Pablo Picasso and a nice central locale to hit some nearby beach towns.

I spent my first day a la plage at Nerja, known for it’s Balcony of Europe, in other words a huge vista overlooking the med. Two words can only describe what I like best about this part of the world - topless sunbathing. Why oh why is this such a big issue in North America? I love being able to let the ladies free, avoid tan lines and not be gawked at by pervy men. How refreshing! My only issue with the south of Spain is the demographic tends to creep a little farther down the line from me than I would like, i.e. newly retired Brits and Germans reliving their youth. Bless them. I’ve never seen so many 60+ ta-tas on display in one sitting. You go gals!

I’m also a big fan of how Spanish people smell, in particular the men. The smell of strong cologne strikes you unexpectedly as you stroll the streets, reminiscent of Davie Street on a Friday night. They’re also very affectionate...with each other! Always hugging and kissing, hugging and kissing. Just giver fellas. I was so taken aback one evening, dining alone enjoying a huge seafood paella, when I discovered that my waiter...well, I think he fancied me. He asked that I come back at midnight as he and his friends were going to shut down the street and hold a fiesta in my honor! Talk about grand gestures. I politely declined as I am spoken for (woe, that sounded very old fashioned) but was flattered nonetheless.

The Spanish gals, on the other hand, were rocking a few fashion trends I found puzzling. 1) Stockings. It was a warm 25-30 degrees every day I was there, and these women still insist on wearing stockings? Funny, because no one seems to wear them anymore on this side of the pond. 2) Sporting Fall/Winter attire, in again, 25-30 degree heat. I completely appreciate the importance of fashion and these are two seasons most fashionistas would hate to miss out on, but seriously. A sweater and a wool jacket in this heat? I would shrivel up and die. 3) Hammer pants. Remember these bad boys? Gals are actually wearing them again - everywhere you look. I have to say...they somehow make them look chic. Can this be so? Clever Spanish.

I also had difficulty ordering a double espresso. Not because my Spanish was lacking, but because the baristas couldn’t understand the idea somehow. Does no one fancy a double smack in the face in the morning in this country? I had to demonstrate for them, pouring two espressos into one coffee cup. They thought that was weird.

I spent another day on the beach in Torremolinos and then sped off to the Algarve region of Portugal to a lovely little town called Lagos. One thing I had observed in both Spain and Portugal was that it was tricky to order just one glass of wine. Not that I ever drink just one, however it’s either a half bottle or full. No fucking around people. And the port....oh GOD the port....amazing. A glass of local port daily was absolutely necessary. The Portuguese seemed more laid back than my fragrant friends in Spain. One day I watched an adorable old fella reel in a fish from the beach, probably about 50 lbs. I love these people and I love their lifestyle.

One thing to note, as I was traveling alone, many people found this very odd. A woman traveling alone, eating alone...seemingly content, which I was. One night in Lagos I was enjoying a fabulous meal of duck pate, olives and grilled squid when these young men across the restaurant were talking and pointing at me. “Look at that weird girl eating alone in the corner,” I imagined them saying. When they were leaving one of them came by my table to tell me how impressed they were that I was ‘ok’ eating alone and that I seemed really happy. I told him there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. Given he was probably 21 years old, I’m sure my response startled him...he then asked me to meet him at a club later to get wasted. As you do.

After a fantastic taste of Portugal, I made my way back to Spain, stopping in Seville. What a darling little town. Given this is where Flamenco originated, I decided an authentic Flamenco show was definitely in order. Wow. I had no idea the level of intensity and emotion involved in this Spanish art form. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she begins to cry watching Opera for the first time. I was moved.

Last stop - Barcelona. Everyone raves about this city, and rightly so. It’s the San Fran of Europe. It’s divided into diverse, charming little neighborhoods and has a Tapas bar on every block. Which brings me to the topic of Tapas - yes please. Standing around a busy bar, snatching whatever tapas tickle your fancy to then show your bartender at the end of the night how many tooth picks you’ve accumulated to determine the amount owing on your bill is simply brilliant. Almost like an honor system! I wonder if this could catch on in North America? One would hope so.

After more litres of Sangria than I could possibly count, I find myself back in beautiful Vancouver settling back into a routine of sushi and Hockey Night in Canada. Hasta Luego Espana.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

Smells like Morocco

2008-10-24T10:15:00.001-07:00

Salaam possums. After leaving the city of lights (or the city of legs as my luck would have it), I hopped a plane to the crazy town of Marrakech, Morocco. You often hear what a mental place this is, with it’s souks and snake charmers and such, and this town definitely did not disappoint. It’s funny when I was leaving Canada, many of my friends thought I was nuts to travel Morocco on my own. Yet when I told people in Paris what my travel plans were, they thought it was fabulous! Morocco has definitely become a popular place for travel and I found it to be very safe...even for a cheeky Canadian such as myself.

When I arrived at my hostel, which was nothing short of Aladdin’s palace, my new friend Ucef at the front desk advised me that I ‘looked American’. Now, one can take this a number of ways, however I gave Ucef the benefit of the doubt and explained to him I was quite obviously a Canadian, more specifically a Vancouverite, given I was sporting Lululemon’s and had an umbrella in my bag. To which he replied “Where is Vancouver? Never heard of it.” Okie doke, American it is.

Starved, I headed into the square of the Medina (Moroccan term for township) in search of some tasty, authentic Moroccan fare. Little did I know this would later disappoint me, but I digress I found some food alright; ‘group eat’ I call it. Sure, there are plenty of touristic restaurants but I decided to dine under some large tents in the centre of the square with crowds of others while the Moroccans cooked us a feast over large grills. Couscous or Targine (stew). This was my choice in dishes over the next week, and this could be accompanied by either beef, chicken or vegetables. Oh, and a big hunk of white bread. I’m confident I ate more white bread during my week in Morocco than I do in a year in Canada, but hey, carbs are the new protein, no?

Another interesting thing to note when dining in Morocco - forget about enjoying a glass of vino with your meal folks. It is possible to get a drink in this country, but incredibly inconvenient. Where’s the funky cold medina people? Nope. Nada.

The next morning, I went to the square to see what the vibe was like during the day. Enter the snake charmers. Big, black cobras literally entranced by a flute. Alarming. I was suckered into getting my photo taken with a few of these reptiles draped over me (a ‘water snake’, not the cobra) for a few Durham, so I went along with it. After I snapped my pics and handed the snake back to the man he kissed it and held the thing up to my forehead and announced “You will have many years good sex. Good sex for you!” Excellent. That’s good news. I actually tried to give this guy American dollars at first, to which he explained “We don’t take those anymore, only Euros.” Wow, how the world has changed possums.

On the way back to my hostel, I got lost in the souk, or maze more like. Shit. This thing is confusing. A cute little boy came up to me and offered to lead me back to my hostel for a fee. Done and done little man, let’s roll. We arrive, with me feeling like an idiot as I hand over 20 Durham to this kid and before I could open the door he threatens to light up a cigarette if I don’t give him any more money. Excuse aime moi? (He’s probably about 8.) I refuse ofcourse, to which he lights up like he’s been smoking for 20 years and walks away. Where am I?!

I should note, I learned alot about the Muslim faith during this trip, and although I like to keep an open mind, I have to say - where are the women? Are they hidden? Are they nocturnal? I didn’t see many gals around, and when I did, I would often get a look that said ‘oh look at you, must be nice to be in shorts and a tube top whilst I sweat to death under this thing’. I mean no disrespect by any means, it’s just a tad hard to swallow for this western gal.

I then embarked on a road trip to the Sahara, making many memorable stops along the way. However, when the red dunes started to appear on the horizon, I knew this was going to be the highlight of my trip. My group and I hopped on some camels and embarked on a 10K trek into the desert to our campsite for the evening. Please note possums, 10K on a camel = a very sore tookus for DAYS. We arrived after dark and sat under the stars waiting for our guide to cook us dinner. Never in my life have I seen stars like this. Pure magic.

Our group was split in half, 50% French speaking, 50% English. Morocco attracts alot of French speaking visitors, naturally, however this is bad news for me as French people don’t seem to appreciate my sarcastic sense of humor. Or any sarcasm...period. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly the life of the party in the desert. When our food finally arrived, we were told we were eating ‘Moroccan style,' i.e. no plates or utensils. Yuck. A dozen filthy mutt hooks all grabbing at the family style dish at once. I decided to sit this one out.

The next morning, I perched myself on a dune alone in silence and watched the sunrise. Probably the most peaceful thing I’ve ever experienced. The Sahara is quite something. To me, it looks like a big sea of red pepper dip, like you could dip a chip into it. Strange comparison? Maybe, but the sand is so soft and fine...almost creamy.

All in all, I loved my time in Morocco but I have to say (and anyone who has been there will agree) - ALL of my belongings smelled like cumin, which is essentially the smell of Morocco. I had to air myself out for about a week after I left, but it was well worth it.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

The French Connection

2008-10-23T11:52:00.000-07:00

Possums! The Urban Cowgirl is finally back in the saddle - pun intended - with all sorts of travel tales to share. My original intent was to blog intermittently throughout my trip however the bloody French/Spanish keyboards made this a touch painful. So, in keeping it real, I opted for my trusty journal instead.

First stop - Paris. Having been there before I had already checked off all things touristy, so this time around I decided I would soak in the city, people watch and eat my face off...naturally. I arrived in the morning full of piss and vinegar so I ditched my bags and enthusiastically headed to...the cemetery. Yes, that is correct possums. A friend of mine reminded me that Jim Morrison was buried in a Parisian cemetery and asked me to take a few snaps of his grave...so I hopped on the Metro and took my morbid ass over to the Pere Lachaise Cemetery to check it out. Buried amongst the likes of Oscar Wilde and a plethora of Napoleon's cronies, most visitors seemed only interested in swarming the grave site of Mr. Morrison. I had hoped to stumble upon some hippies pouring a bottle of whiskey over the rock legend’s grave, but no such luck.

It just so happens that Fashion Week kicked off the day before I arrived. Coincidence? One would think not, however it was just my luck and lucky I was indeed. I scoped out show locales online and discovered the Gaspard Yurkievich show was taking place at the Louvre. Not too shabby of a venue I must say. I ventured to the famed museum to see if I could stumble upon any celebrities in a stalker-like fashion. Turns out they keep the riff raff (and by that I mean a mix of fashion victims, Paris’s elite and a handful of media) and the celebs in separate rooms before going in for the show. What I didn’t know was how easy it would be to sneak in there! With no ticket and a sub-par ensemble (i decided to wear all black, you know, the mod bitch look), I loitered around the line up to get in. Next thing I know some gal with a head set on is handing me a bag of goodies and ushering me inside. Ofcourse, sans ticket, I ended up standing in the back but no one even questioned it?! ‘C’est bonne’ i think to myself. I did not see any celebs, which let’s face it was the real reason I was there, but Yurkievich did put on a good show.

The only problem with visiting Paris during Fashion Week is the influx of perfect people...and I do mean perfect. I’ll meet your Mary Magdalen Paris and raise you two bulimic models. My day concluded with dinner on Il Saint Louis before heading home to prep for my flight to Marrakech the next morning. I did, however, have a slight run-in with a Parisian man who decided to chat my ear off while heading home on the train. As I reached my stop, he began to double-cheek kiss me incessantly, reminiscent of SNL’s Bellissimo bit where Carvey, Sandler and Schneider are Italian waiters licking Kirstie Alley's face. Nice.

Au revoir for now possums.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

The Urban Cowgirl is hittin’ the road!

2008-09-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

In the coming weeks, I'll be blogging via remote locations, such as the Sahara desert in Morocco (do they have Wi-Fi there?), the southern beaches of Portugal and over a pitcher or two of Sangria in Spain.

Ciao possums. xx

Pucker up piggies - we’re putting on lipstick north and south of the 49th

2008-09-21T21:56:00.000-07:00

In recent months I’ve watched the drama surrounding the American election unfold, and with mere weeks to go before Americans hit the polls, I find myself wondering...what exactly are the key issues each party plans to address? So far I’ve been able to piece together 2 things - Sarah Palin is a foxy hockey mom who claims to have a lovely view of Russia from her front porch while Barrack Obama promises to impose a ban on the application of lipstick for citizens of pig-like proportions.

I’ve always been under the impression that the lead up to any election should be a time for political parties to bring their A-game and pitch their platform to the voting public. Yet, once again the mud slinging and scandals have taken over and I have to admit, it all makes for a sexier campaign. After all, controversy is what captures the public's attention, which is why many Canadians are completely unaware that we too are about to vote in a federal election.

A federal election in Canada is about as exciting as a game of curling (can you believe they televise that shit!?)...until now. Finally some dirt is beginning to surface and it’s completely turned my attention away from the US and onto what really matters. Like, the fact that candidates from both the Liberal and NDP parties have been engaged in naked protests, drugs and sexy time. Its-a niiiice, I-a liiiike.

You have one NDP (formerly Green) candidate who was charged with dropping his gear and requesting that a group of minors ‘body paint him all over’. Charming. Then you have a Liberal candidate who previously posed as Lady Godiva - naked - on horse back in a protest against logging on Saltspring Island. Come on Godiva, a few large scale hotels and casinos aren’t going to impact the island’s ecosystem that much. I kid, i kid.

Bottom line, our election is finally gaining momentum thanks to some wanker candidates with a closet full of skeletons. My attention will only drift back to the US should either candidate make mention of the many American NAFTA breaches that have occurred over the years but it won’t...they’re too busy trying to determine whether Palin or her daughter gave birth to that baby. God bless America.

Canada votes October 14.

The Urban Cowgirl's Make it a Double

2008-09-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

Related? Kate Hudson/Chris Robinson offspring Ryder...and Beck?

Once you go Mac you never go back

2008-09-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

So I’ve gone and done it people. I’ve joined the ranks of hipster writers the world over. I’m playing for the other team. I’m one of the cool kids now. I’m the proud new owner of a Mac and I have to say - believe the hype.

It’s a spanky little machine, but what impressed me most about my Mac purchase was the experience. I was even offered an enthusiastic ‘congratulations’ as I made my way out of the store. As if I had just given birth to the thing. All things Apple seem to be at a level of ingenuity unmatched by their one and only competitor - Microsoft. For example, let’s take their new commercial starring Jerry Seinfeld. Have you seen this? What the devil made them think he would be an appropriate celeb to endorse the PC? Puzzling. He and Mr. Gates share an awkward moment together…ahem, shoe shopping. I was completely confused as to what exactly they were trying to pedal here. Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Gates for Payless Shoes perhaps? Good god. See bizarre-o ad below:

This latest attempt has only left Microsoft looking less sexy next to Apple’s low-budget yet impactful ads starring D-list actor Justin Long, (who was temporarily A-list during his brief courtship with Drew Barrymore). Apple was even cutting edge back in 1984 when Macintosh first hit the market. Remember this ad? It's and oldie, but a goodie:

Less is more folks. Perhaps Microsoft should consider casting someone a bit less 1995 for their ads. Apple – 1, Microsoft – 0.

Channeling my inner bride…smaid.

2008-09-08T23:24:00.000-07:00

Invites and centre pieces and wedding vows – oh my. And so it was my turn to take on the task of bridesmaid-of-honor for a gal pals recent nuptials. A hefty undertaking for someone like myself who has never fully understood the ritual that is the wedding. It’s always seemed so 18th century to me. Nonetheless, I was honored to take on the role and learned a lot along the way. Which brings me to…

The Urban Cowgirl’s Wedding Party Survival Tips:

1) First and foremost, the bride is always right. Don’t offer suggestions or throw out ideas as your bride will no doubt have her vision in place and it’s non-negotiable. I equate this to dealing with high level executives – don’t offer too much detail, just grin and nod and getter done.

2) More details = more f*ck-ups. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself packaging cupcakes and arguing with the wedding planner the night before the shindig takes place. In other words, keep it real. Are place cards and party favors necessary? Nice touch but not worth the meltdown.

3) Be organized. Stuff your bosom full o’ tissue in the event that the bride breaks down at the altar. Practice deep breathing exercises so you are prepared to lead your bride through a series of meditation tactics, if necessary.

4) The blending of two families is an interesting dynamic to witness. I would strongly encourage a pre-wedding bonding session to avoid any awkward energy on the big day. Why not get both clans together for a rowdy piss up? Go to a karaoke bar, guzzle some vodka redbulls and have a laugh. Nothing like getting a little sloshy with your in-laws-to-be.

5) Speaking of sloshy, try to avoid consuming too many cocktails prior to delivering a toast to the bride and groom. If you forget what you’ve just said mere moments after putting down the mic, the results could go either way. I haven’t heard from my bride since the wedding…here’s hoping.

Weddings seem to have couples by the balls these days. Hats off to all the folks who have survived their wedding and for those of you who have yet to walk down the aisle of marital bliss – bonne chance possums.

Here’s to love! To l’amour!

Surviving the Race of the Humans

2008-09-02T19:51:00.000-07:00

So I did it possums. Along with nearly 5,000 other competitors, I hit the pavement Sunday night for the Nike Human Race 10K. Whew, what a night. Let’s review, shall we?

As mentioned in a previous post, I signed up to run the Human Race a few months back during a boozy event with a gal pal of mine. What sold me (besides the open bar) was the international element of the race, given 25 other cities around the world would be participating on the same day. Cool! I’m also approaching the milestone that is the big 3-0 this year (gulp), so I felt a 10K or some sort of physical achievement was in order. I use the term ‘achievement’ loosely as I’m no Ironman, however it was an achievement pour moi.

The course itself was impressive, carrying competitors along Vancouver’s picturesque seawall during an otherwise perfect sunset. Although it was touching to have complete strangers cheer you on along the way, I’m confident I nearly plowed over a few grannies attempting to ‘high five’ me as I huffed and puffed past them. I was also lucky enough to have my extremely supportive BF cheering me on as I crossed the finish line. Good thing, as I may have collapsed without that last minute bit of encouragement.

Simon Whitfield, silver medalist of the triathlon event at the recent Beijing Summer Olympics, took part in the race coming in third overall. Um…could you imagine coming in first and beating an Olympian? That’s gotta’ be good for the old ego.

By the way possums, if you’re planning to run a 10K, do not attempt this without training. I am a runner, however I tend to laze away the summer days and abandon my exercise routine, only to be replaced by beaching and drinking…and beaching and drinking. Thus, stepping onto a treadmill once over the 10 weeks prior to the race does NOT constitute a proper training program. Boo.

I’m feelin’ the burn, as I’ve been waddling around since crossing the finish line, yet the pain is beginning to subside. My remedy you ask? Drinking and avoiding exercise ofcourse. Hmmm...What can I say; it’s a vicious cycle people.

Pain aside, I’m thrilled to have taken part. Vancouver ranked 4th overall for fastest city and Nike threw out all the stops – everything from the spanky dry-fit shirts included in your runner’s package, right down to the kick-ass after party complete with live performances by The Trews and Theory of a Deadman.

This cowgirl of urban proportions is certainly not in any hurry to run another race; however I could get back in the saddle again in ’09. Stay tuned…

Business men have penises; business women have vaginas…and roles

2008-08-25T21:21:00.000-07:00

It recently donned on me that the liberal country in which I live is not as liberal as I thought in terms of the roles men and women both play in the workplace. I myself have always felt that I was presented with professional opportunities just as equitable as that of my male counterparts. However, it has come to my attention that the subject of equality is still in question in today’s corporate environment.

A close gal pal of mine works in a relatively relaxed corporate office that boasts a playful culture with a more or less equal representation from both the male and female contingents. Sounds ideal, and seemingly it is in most cases, until just the other day our girl brought a rather stringent stereotype to the attention of some of her fellow co-workers. She, along with a select group of colleagues (all female), are often asked to cover reception for the regular receptionist while she takes a lunch break or in the event that she falls ill. Hmmm…why would this roster only include gals? Simply put, it would seem that sitting at a reception desk, greeting visitors and answering phones is not considered a male-esque role. Which begs the question…why the hell not? Why in today’s corporate culture are there roles that are more commonly considered female instead of male? You certainly don’t see many blokes in the HR department, or at least it’s an anomaly in my experience.

The best bit of the story is when our subject approaches her trusted male colleagues for a bit of support, only to be scoffed at in a patronizing manor.

Ok, so we won the women’s lib movement, we have the right to vote and we aren’t commissioned to wear skirts (only) to work anymore. Hoorah for the ladies! However, my friends experience only reminds us that there is still a long way to go in the quest for equality in the workplace.

Is it penis envy? No. Would it be refreshing to see a handsome fella sitting behind a reception desk for once? Abso-f*cking-lutely.

That’s all for this week possums, if you’ll excuse me…I have some bras in the oven.

The Summer Olympics Sucks for Canucks

2008-08-18T21:19:00.000-07:00

I’ll admit that I haven’t exactly been glued to the TV keeping up-to-date with all that is the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics. However, I have managed to catch a few events and monitor the medal tally as this global event is splashed all over every form of media…naturally.

One thing that has occurred to me is the lack luster and downright boring vibe the Summer Olympics has for Canadians. I know a lot of people who are completely dialed into the games, so I’m definitely not speaking for the majority. I just wonder, as it relates to these games, who cares really?

I’ve already expressed my opinion on the Canadian Olympic garb in a previous post, which only supports my case. I also have a few issues with the Olympics being held in a country that violates human rights and is ranked second in the world for producing carbon emissions. I digress, the summer games just aren’t our thing possums.

Thus, let’s break it down Beijing style with the Urban Cowgirl’s Top 5 Olympic Hits and Misses:

5) The medal standings - currently we have 9, putting us at 17th place – not too shabby I suppose. Hit.
4) One of our medals was awarded for, wait for it…the Trampoline. I’m sorry, wha? That’s a miss.
3) 2-time Olympic athlete Ryan Cuthbert is back to compete in the K-2 1000m Men’s Kyak. Given this thriving athlete used to crash on my couch back in the day, I’d like to think my influence had somewhat of an impact. That’s an automatic ‘hit’.
2) Table tennis. Seriously? Why not go ahead and add Parcheesi and Romoli to the mix? Big miss.
1) Michael Phelps. Granted, this part- porpoise/part-human can swim a solid race. However, I’m a bit over the 4 hour NBC special of he and his mama explaining just how special he is. Sorry Mike-o, I’m gonna have to give you a miss.

I simply can’t be bothered to sit in front of the tube watching our poor, pressured athletes succumb to such embarrassment and disappointment. I’m opting for beach volleyball at Kits…minus the medals. In the meantime, the countdown to the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver is on.

Continuing from last week...

2008-08-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

Kits beach congers up a familiar face...and a few other notably bizarre beach-goers.

Exhibit A - A certain Mr. Chad Kroeger of Nickelback fame lounging on the grass with who appeared to be the bands drummer. Hey Chad, ditch the hair-do. This is how you remind me of 10 years ago. Just a tip.

Exhibit B - Unknown bartender practicing his tricks a la Cocktail, juggling 2 bottles and 2 martini shakers whilst gettin down to whatever electro-funk play in his headphones. Hey buddy, Tom Cruise called...he wants his moves back.

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl via camera phone while sneakishly pretending to text message.

The beautiful people, the beautiful people

2008-08-11T22:28:00.000-07:00

So far this summer, I’ve spent most of my weekends at Kits beach assuming the position of a tanorexic and reveling in the non-stop entertainment that is people watching. Yes, this popular summer locale is known for its beautiful people but I’ve noticed more of a likeness to L.A.’s Venice beach in terms of random and strange occurrences. It’s the perfect place to situate for such delights, for example…

Let’s take the cheerleading squad that uses the grassy patch at Cornwall and Yew to try out their tricks. Young, and otherwise miniature girls, fly through the air whilst kicking their legs behind their heads as some strapping young men hoist them up with one hand. Impressive...yet, odd. Is cheerleading seriously a common practice in Canadia? Who knew?

Next up you have the body builder boys sporting low cut v-neck shirts that have been otherwise painted on. I appreciate that they’re trying to flaunt their physique, but come on fellas…pretty sure I saw those shirts at American Apparel in the…ahem, girls section. Just peel the damn things off for f*ck sake, it is summer after all.

Then we have our sugary sweet Japanese gals sunbathing and giggling the day away. Just last weekend I spotted some harajuku types kickin' it in the Kitsilano, one who seemed rather distracted…by herself. While her gal pal lay snoozing beside her, this young lady began a photo montage - of herself - that would end up lasting about 20 minutes. Then, when she was through with her series of self-pics, she proceeded to curl her eyelashes with a contraption resembling that of a tire iron….over and over and over again. I thought to myself ‘oh no sweetie, please stop that...you’re going to pull every one of your eyelashes out. Drop the curler….DROP THE CURLER!’

Parking for the day = $10.
Ticket for drinking in public = $50.
Bizarre-o Vancouverites making a spectacle at Kits beach = priceless.

Gather your inner-gay dahlings and celebrate Pride

2008-08-05T11:42:00.000-07:00

Sunshine, sweat and muscles – oh my! Much to my delight - and the delight of 530,000 other spectators - this was the underlying theme of the 30th annual Vancouver Pride Parade. Seriously though possums, it was a grand event demonstrating and celebrating 30 years of gay/bi/lesbian/transgender rights in Vancouver, and what a celebration it was!

Never have I witnessed a more ethnically diverse event. Everyone from members of the aboriginal community to the inclusion of a Bollywood inspired float by Sher Vancouver, a social support group for GLBT Sikhs. There was also a selection of religious groups offering their support to the cause, with one sporting a fabulous Gospel singer accompanied by a 20 person ensemble, which really got the crowd going.

The Pride parade wouldn’t be complete without your typical corporate sponsors and politicians looking for the ‘gay vote’. Yet, whatever their reason for participating, it all garners positive attention to gay rights which is the objective of the parade in the first place.

OK – politics and seriousness aside, let’s move our focus onto the crowd. You have grandma and grandpa in from Cloverdale to take in the colorful floats. You have families and children. At one point, a Mariah Carey-inspired drag queen stopped to toss condoms into the crowd when a young lad in front of us said ‘he would like a sucker too’…to which the queen reached deep into her frock, pulling out an assortment of lollies for the tot. I for one was enjoying the plethora of fit, young men bopping about to a selection of electronica and Madonna…do you blame me?

One of the more powerful moments during the parade was a float displaying the Freedometer Map, a color-coded world map highlighting gay-friendly countries…and the results are quite grim. I’m happy to say Canada is listed as one of the most progressive countries on the subject, however we are only one of three, joined by Spain and South Africa. These are the only countries in the world where there are no penalties for being gay, same-sex marriage is legal and there are discrimination laws in place. As a good friend of mine put it ‘we live in a bubble of liberal thought here in Vancouver and have become complacent about the relevance of this parade and how far our world has yet to come’. Case in point.

Despite the worlds ability, or lack thereof, to adopt a more liberal approach to gay rights, it’s comforting to know that we live in city, and a country for that matter, that is open to all members of its community, regardless of color, religion or sexual preference.

Whew! I feel a group hug coming on…

Photo credits - Nella Amenta

Pandemonium prevails at Pemberton Festival

2008-07-29T23:01:00.000-07:00

After months of anticipation, a pile of planning and a whole lotta’ hype, Pemberton Festival (affectionately known as Pembie Fest), is now a moment in music history. However, before the memories fade like Pharrell Williams hair-do, let’s cover off some highlights shall we?

Due to the inevitable (and demoralizing) traffic congestion that nearly pushed me to the brink of suicide – sounds dramatic I know – I unfortunately missed out on a few acts. I did manage to catch all of the heavy hitters which are, after all, the reason I and 39,999 others spent 3 days intoxicated and covered in dirt…just to catch a glimpse of some rock legends lighting it up in our very own backyard.

Serj Tankian, lead singer of political metal band System of a Down and now a soloist, was my first taste of the events that would continue to rock my world throughout the weekend. What a set of pipes on this man! Sporting a linen suit and top hat to match, one might not have expected Tankian to get the crowd chanting ‘Praise the lord, pass the ammunition’…but he surely did. This fella is clever and a far cry from your status quo artists shouting ‘Bush sucks’ just to get the crowd going. Nothing makes me hotter than a rock star who can authentically and accurately speak about politics.

Interpol…shall we call them Inter-snore? What a bunch of suit-clad zombies. I quite like their music, but as far as stage presence goes, they should enroll in Jack Black’s school of rock ‘cuz these boys just don’t have it in them. Or they absolutely despise one another? Either way, you have one member resembling Lyle Lovett, another who could pass for a Boy George look-a-like. And when they finally spoke, I was shocked to discover that these lads are actually American? I got a Brit vibe for sure, given their outfits. Perfect time for a trip to the beer garden I suppose.

Nine Inch Nails did not disappoint, which was no surprise - Trent Reznor is a force to be reckoned with. The man is intense…and hot. I was perhaps guilty of a few groupie-esque ‘woo-hoos’ during his set, but rightly so. The multi-talented/multi-instrumentalist closed the first day of the festival with a bang, sporting a massive light board behind him and his band, creating quite the spectacle. Now that’s a rock show.

The Tragically Hip brought out the biggest, and definitely the rowdiest, crowd of all the acts during the festival. I guess you have to be Canadian to truly get it (as an aussie friend of mine put it) but no matter where these boys play, the crowds will follow. Gord Downie threw down his usual bizarre stage antics pretending his mic stand was a car at one point whilst he thrust himself upon it. Right. Whatever floats your boat Gordie. At one point, Downie glimpsed over to the lead guitarist (you know, the one that looks like Alanis with a beard?), and flashed this smile that quite obviously meant ‘woe man, we’re still pulling this off after all these years…life is good’. This completed the patriotic portion of the show.

Bring on Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers- all American boys and rock legends. This was perhaps one of the most diverse sing-a-long sessions I’ve seen in terms of ages, which ranged from 18 to a brave 60+ year old man surfing the crowd. Petty played all the hits while swaggering about the stage having most certainly enjoyed a dance with Mary Jane moments before the show. Atta boy. He couldn’t have played in BC without sampling some of our…ahem, local produce. I called my dad and sang when Petty belted out Free Fallin’. It was a fine moment.

Day 3 = still standing and stoked to see N.E.R.D. No sooner did my crew and I situate our selves for the show, when I was whisked away with a media pass in my hot little hand, to ogle the band from backstage. Yes! This is the stuff of dreams for an Urban Cowgirl such as moi. I’ve been a fan for years and couldn’t help but bust a move and scream like a teenager to hits such as ‘Lap dance’ and Everyone Nose’ until someone gave me the heads up to ‘tone it down’ as I was media…not a super fan. Right. I’ll have to work on that.

Next up are Bellingham boys Death Cab for Cutie, which was just what I needed to mellow myself after my star struck encounter with Pharrell Williams. The perfect band to snuggle up on a blanket to, whilst sipping some vino from your ultra-classy wine tetra pack which you smuggled in hours earlier. When lead singer Ben Gibbard belted out his romantical gem ‘Soul Meets Body’ my heart melted…a little.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, Jigga man himself hopped on stage, smokin’ a stogie, and brought down the house. I knew Jay Z was talented, but his street cred has been somewhat buried underneath the likes of Beyonce and Rihanna so I nearly fell to my knees when he started free styling. I was blown away and continued to shake my cracker ass (excuse the expression) throughout his entire set. Nigga what? Nigga please.

At this point I’ve reached a level of musical stimulation unmatched by any other concert I’ve attended, when Chris Martin and the boys hit the stage to close the festival. Having seen Coldplay live twice before, I knew what to expect but am always pleasantly surprised by the bands sense of humor, energy and downright talent. At one point, the 4 English lads jumped off the stage and booked it through the crowd, perching themselves on a platform approximately 20 feet away from my crew and I. Magic. The entire crowd joined in for ‘Yellow’ and ‘Fix You’…and then just like that, the festival was over. It’s like the feeling you get after Christmas. I wonder what bands Santa will bring for Pemberton Festival next year?

Photo credits - Urban Cowgirl

Craigslist just got creepy…unused condoms anyone?

2008-07-21T22:14:00.000-07:00

I like to pop onto craigslist once and while, mostly to check out the job section for writing gigs…naturally. I was reading a sustainability article this morning about giving your ‘junk’ away for free on websites such as http://www.freesharing.org/ or the ‘free’ section of http://www.craigslist.com/. Next thing I know, I find myself perusing a long list of bizarre items that some sad souls have taken the time to photograph and post in the ‘free’ section of craigslist.

I get the environmental impact of simply tossing these treasures into the trash and I’m all for the re-use, reduce, recycle principle. However, a few items…well…crossed the line shall we say. Allow me to share…

The Urban Cowgirl’s Top 5 Inappropriate Items to Post on Craigslist:

5) A leather wine skin, resembling that of a bladder. Really, it’s a much spankier version of a water cantina. Throw this little bad boy into your handbag ladies – a perfect fit!

4) How ‘bout some dirt people? Yes, you heard that right ladies and gentlemen, soil is up for grabs. I did not know that we must otherwise pay for this? Hmph.

3) Just hear those sleigh bells jing-a-ling, ring ting ting-a-ling too. Christmas tree anyone? It’s miniature. ’Give it to your pet’ it reads…here ya go pooch, happy holidays.

2) Here’s a gem – ‘Garage emptied and in alley’. In other words, come pick up my bag of garbage please. Doesn’t the city take care of this?

1) Unused condoms. Yes possums, you heard that right. This, amongst a variety of toiletries left on ones doorstep for ‘pick up anytime before 10pm’ is simply not acceptable. And perhaps a little deranged.

And there you have it folks – the best things in life really are free! I’m thinking of posting an FYI notice in this section of craigslist that reads a little something like this…ahem…

Dear craigslist posters,

Although I commend your environmental efforts and offer you an ‘A’ for effort in terms of sharing your wealth with the world, might I remind you that there are some fabulous folks out there willing to help…and they are called homeless people. That’s right, leave your goodies by the closest dumpster and voila – they’re snatched up in a jiffy. No digital photos or catchy commentary required.

Move aside sightseer cuz I will run you down

2008-07-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Tourists. Turistas if you like. Good people, for the most part, who have traveled from near and far to visit our fair city. They boost the local economy and contribute to Vancouver’s already diverse culture. Summertime tends to be the turistas favorite time to visit, given our pleasant yet mild weather and unbeatable scenery. I rather enjoy these said turistas, however they do pose a problemo for locals like me who enjoy an evening jog on the city’s seawall.

There is no better way to blow off steam than a run on our fabulous seawall at sun set as the blue herons take flight and silhouettes of inukshuks appear along the waters edge. It’s almost an infomercial people. However, just as your pace gains momentum, you are stopped abruptly as lookie-loos stroll slowly, weaving about with no regard to who’s running up behind them. You can try shouting an assertive ‘pardon me’, or, ‘behind you’ but this doesn’t always help as not all turistas speak-a ingrish. I completely appreciate the allure to stroll in this area, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult for us runners. We have a lane for cyclists and rollerbladers - why can we not have a lane dedicated to lookie-loos that is separate from the runners? A fast lane if you will.

Thus, I have decided to submit a patent application for what I’m calling the Runner Ringer. When runners are approaching the unsuspecting lookie-loo turistas, they simply ring the bell – loudly and vigorously – until the turistas kindly move to the side. This may take time to catch on, therefore I will include an instruction manual with helpful phrases to use whilst using the Runner Ringer, i.e. ‘MOVE’, ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY’, ‘REMOVE YOUR SMALL CHILDREN OR CONSIDER THEM ROADKILL’, and similar phrases of that nature. That way, the turistas have a clear sense of what the Runner Ringer is for until it has caught on as commonly as a police siren. Gesturing to the turistas to ‘pull over’ in a sense.

I think this will alleviate my frustrations and the frustrations of my fellow runners and moreover put an end to the Ludacris song ‘Move Bitch, Get Out the Way’ that rings perpetually in my head.

Happy strolling possums. xx

Why is it OK for boys to want the white picket fence?

2008-07-07T20:30:00.000-07:00

Over the past weekend I found myself enjoying a cocktail or several with some of my favorite singletons, which led to a refreshing yet shocking revelation. It’s no secret us gals tend to vocalize our readiness to settle down and procreate, perhaps more willingly than our masculine counterparts. However, I was pleasantly surprised - and perhaps shocked - to hear a similar sentiment coming from one of my single, male friends. Could this be? Are boys secretly interested in family and fidelity, or is it all a facade? Let’s investigate, shall we possums?...

I have come across, only but a hand full of men who have proudly professed their longing for matrimony and a baby mama. And when they do, the reaction (particularly from the female contingent) is quite positive for the most part. ‘He’s so open and honest and knows what he wants – how refreshing!” many a gal pal has noted. True true. However, if us gals dare to make similar statements we are immediately looked down upon as needy and codependent. The grasshopper who sang all summer. The cougar who couldn’t land a mate. Double standard you say? You bet your bottom dollar Daddy Warbucks.

Consequently, what happens next only makes matters worse as the communicational gap between men and women widens. Us gals begin to get our backs up as we feel the need to demonstrate just how independent we are, thus pretending like we don’t need boys…we just choose to have them around for shits and giggles. I’ll be the first to admit this is simply note true, but the stereotype can certainly back us into a corner. Ah!

When is it OK for gals to admit what they want in a relationship? At what point do we show our male opponents our cards? I’d say it rarely crosses my mind…but I’d be bluffing.

English Bay brings boozers and debauchery

2008-07-02T21:16:00.000-07:00

I’m posting a tad on the tardy side this week as I was enjoying an extended Canada Day long weekend of blissful beach time. Speaking of beach - ahem, nice segway UC – I was treated to a delightful spectacle of events the other night at English Bay.

With my BFF and BF in tow, we strolled to the beach to take in the sunset over some take-out sushi. While soaking in the scenery, the people seemed to be the more interesting subjects. Let’s start with the token drunk guy, shall we? That guy who’s been boozing on the beach all day to staggering proportions. Our said boozer - with an open bottle of wine in hand - took it upon himself to entertain a crowd of Spanish speaking exchange students on the art of break dancing in the sand. Yes kids, this is what all Vancouverites look like after a little vino tinto. He then continued to irritate the crowd after confiscating some poor mans guitar to perform his rendition of…um…slur lady slur by the late, great Bob Dylan? Not sure.

I then predicted that our beach boozer was about to drop his drawers and bare it all…and I was right. What is it with men and male nudity – they think it’s hilarious! They get this possessed look in their eye and you just know someone is going to flash their fig newtons. Our subject then sprinted into the ocean, amongst a cheering crowd only to be interrupted by some of Vancouver’s finest who hoisted him away in handcuffs. At least they allowed him to put his shorts back on.

Drunken nudists aside, there was a plethora of G rated entertainment to enjoy. Everything from fire throwers and bongo playin’ hippie types, to this couple engaged in a cirque du soleil-esque performance of acrobatics. I kid you not. Just another night a la plage.

Until next week possums and remember…wear your sunscreen.

Photo credit – Sunset at English Bay, Urban Cowgirl

The Urban Cowgirl's Make it a Double

2008-06-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

Same person? Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump; Bare Naked Ladies Steven Page...?

Napa is Crapa Compared to the Okanagan

2008-06-23T22:56:00.000-07:00

Having just returned from a 5 day road trip to the Okanagan (B.C.’s wine country for my international subscribing possums), I’m left with sand in my shoes and an impressive wine rack. With my BF in tow, we hit up some spectacular spots, which inspired me to compile…

The Urban Cowgirl’s Favorite Places to Play in the OK

Sun worshiping at Skaha Lake is a must for soft, sandy beaches, crystal clear waters and the often obnoxious (yet entertaining) wake boarders whizzing by waling an eclectic mix of G-unit and Jimmy Buffet.

Hit the sleepy but quaint village of Naramata for lunch before embarking on your tour through the Naramata Bench wineries. Starting off at Kettle Valley for an out-of-the-garage wine tasting…very grass roots. They also serve Geverztraminer slushies which sounds tacky but is surprisingly tasty. Move on to Lang Vineyards for a glass of Optima, whilst enjoying stunning views of the vineyard and Okanagan Lake. Next up, La Frenz for the must try/must buy Chardonnay Reserve; delicious and creamy and oaky – oh my! Cap off your day with dinner at the Barrel Bistro at Hillside Estate Winery. We sat on the patio, surrounded by cherry trees with a grand view of the vineyard and the lake. The food, accompanied by the fabulous wine pairings, put us both into a culinary coma. Excuse aime moi monsieur, are we in Bordeaux?

Penticton offers up some delish dining options with Salty’s Beach House on Lakeshore Drive (the strip), a tourist fave for years, owned by a seasoned traveler who has developed his menu based on international cuisine. Where else can you order sangria, paad thai and seared ahi tuna all in the same sitting? Also, the Hooded Merganser (did you know that’s a duck?), aka ‘The Hood’ is situated next to the Lakeshore Resort, built hovering over the lake with a good atmosphere and food to match. Star sighting – Sean Kingston eating dinner with his crew before performing at the local club The Blue Mule. I use the term ‘star’ loosely.

Lastly, an Okanagan road trip isn’t complete without a stop in Keremeos to stock up on fresh fruit for a fraction of what us city slickers pay. C’est bonne.

Photo credits – Urban Cowgirl

Things that make me go hmmmmmm

2008-06-16T21:35:00.001-07:00

Oh Vancouver. Our fair city, voted ‘most livable city' in the world, several times over. Hardly! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hatin’ on my hometown, however I have observed some rather bizarre occurrences as of late and felt the need to share some minor rants, albeit very tongue in cheek.

May I present the Urban Cowgirl’s Shitty in Vancity Top 5

5) 3D baby. A local Vancouver spa is offering packages for scoping out your unborn embryo whilst enjoying the spa experience. Watch the 3D spectacle unfold on a 42” monitor (optional gender assessment included). Having seen some of my friend’s alien-esque 3D baby images, this is simply disturbing. I’m not interested in sharing spa space with expectant mothers talking placentas and episiotomies. Can’t this be exclusive to prenatal class? Too much information.

4) Taser gun toting Translink employees. Have you seen these guys? Packing weapons reminiscent of The Terminator as they watch over you, with a militant look in their eye. Take head my fellow loser cruiser passengers - you best be buying a ticket when hopping aboard local transit. The people of Poland would certainly agree.

3) Stiletto’s in Yaletown. This supposed trendy part of town offers the appropriate atmosphere to rock your Micheal Kors and all your fabulous footwear. However, this is near impossible given the cobblestone walkways and uneven streets, making what should be a confident strut turn into a sloppy stagger. My poor BF has fallen victim as well, as I cling to him ever so spastically, just to stay upright. Sheesh.

4) June weather. I’m not going to elaborate, let’s just leave it at that.

5) Gregor Robertson wins Vision Vancouver candidacy. Dear god, how do nutbars like this end up in the race for the mayor’s seat of ‘the most livable city’ in the world? The thought of this man representing Vancouver during the 2010 Olympics makes me dry heave. See my previous blog on good ol’ Gregor for some insight into our upcoming civic election. Vote for Peter (Ladner)!

That’s all possums – I was feeling cheeky this week. Clearly.

Since when are spandex pants sexy?

2008-06-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

I wear them, you wear them. Guy or gal, you don’t find many Vancouverites without an article of clothing from Lululemon in their closet. It’s just not west coast. Perhaps it’s inhuman, or surely unheard of? This carefully marketed collection of glorified exercise pants and over priced hoodies remains popular with its multi-national franchise continuously expanding with no end in sight. What I want to know is – what’s their secret?

The urban myth that every gal’s backside looks good in ‘Lulus’ is simply not so people. For example, uber skinny gals with little or no buttocks do not look good in Lulus. The pants do not have magical powers that lift and inflate your gluts to perky proportions. Nope. In addition, gals with ghetto booties should also steer clear of the spanky spandex, as once again this is not a flattering look for you either. So who wins? I’ll tell you who, founder and Vancouver-based yoga enthusiast Chip Wilson, that’s who.

Good on him, I mean, I’m not slagging the guy for developing a successful business. What boggles my mind are the brilliant marketing campaigns that have arose as a result of the Lulu phenomenon. I dig their sustainability efforts and handy, reusable bags, notably the first of many companies to adopt this very tactic. Wilson even engaged in a rather clever PR stunt, emerging from a coffin last week during a press conference to announce his charity event Chip’s Not Dead Yet, raising funds for BC Children’s Hospital. Very clever Chippy.

However, I find it worrisome that people will wear these painted on pantaloons out to dinner, at nice restaurants no less. Wha? Not acceptable. This only gives Torontonians and Montréalers more ammo when dissing us west coasters for our lack of style. Deux pouces vers le bas.

Thus, I’d like to make a public plea – rock your Lulus responsibly; for physical fitness purposes only.

And with that possums, I’d like to share with you Madonna’s latest video, Give it to Me featuring Pharrell Williams, as leaked to the net this past week…and it’s hot. Damn Madge, you are one fierce 50 year old.

Bootin’ it in Bogota or Leggin’ it in Lima

2008-06-03T12:03:00.001-07:00

Last night I attended an event celebrating the launch of the Nike Human Race in Vancouver. A race to save humanity? Not as such. But a 10K run round Vancity whilst 24 other cities around the globe run the race concurrently.

Having traveled to half of the cities participating, I decided to sign up. However, this may have been slightly induced by the continuous stream of wine being poured into my glass. Nothing like a little après work wine haze to inspire ones greatness.

Thus, let the training begin. It’s not like I’ll be hoofing it through a marathon or anything, it’s just 10K – right? Less beach lounging and patio surfing…more running. Shit, what have I done?

Vancouver is the only Canadian city participating (what’s up TO?), so I’ll be saying G’day to my mates in Melbourne, Pip Pip to my pals in London and Nay-ho-ma to my homies in Shanghai, as I stride ever so gracefully (or grasping for my last breathe of air) over the finish line. The race is scheduled for 7pm (a twilight run), August 31st. Cities listed below:

Austin - Bogotá - Buenos Aires – Caracas – Chicago – Istanbul – London - Los Angeles – Lima – Madrid – Melbourne - Mexico City - Munich - New York – Paris – Quito – Rome - São Paulo - Seoul – Shanghai – Singapore – Taipei – Tokyo – Warsaw - Vancouver

SATC – the wait has officially ended as I saw the film over the weekend, to which it exceeded all expectations. I have never seen so many frocks and stiletto clad women in Vancouver…ever.

Beer, babies and diamond baubles

2008-05-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend I found myself on safari in the suburbs, attending a backyard BBQ in celebration of a lovely couples recent nuptials. The relatively enjoyable gathering got rather interesting as I sat back to observe the countless couples interacting with one another. And then it dawned on me - do our conversations turn to child birth, home renos and interest rates the moment we walk down the aisle of marital bliss?

The highlight of the evening had to have been when all the gals gathered to compare engagement rings. Was this for real? A moment that can only be compared to men boasting the quality of their high definition TV’s. I know, how very stereotypical of me but case in point, we are just as bad as the boys are. If not worse really, given the sentimental nature of ones engagement ring. C’est dommage, it’s certainly not my intention to begrudge a gal her bling. However, I’m mildly tempted to rock up to the next fidelity fiesta sporting a 5 carat falsey just to taunt the marrieds. Too much?

It goes without saying, we are what we know. For example, if I spent the good part of my day changing poo poo diapers and minding the baby monitor, I too would find these topics enthralling. (When I say baby, you say poo poo…baby!…baby!…) But alas, I opted for a lawn chair and a wine buzz whilst soaking this all in. I’m sure I’ll eat my words one day…but until then, I’ll continue on with my cheeky rants.

Speaking of cheeky, did anyone catch Sue Johanson’s appearance on Letterman last week? This woman is my hero…check out the saucy minx here.

SATC: The Movie premieres nation wide in…4 MORE DAYS

American Idol contestant cries his way to the final

2008-05-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

‘Don’t cry for me Archuletaaaaaa’. Whilst laid up on my couch suffering from a pesky cold, I found myself tuning in for the sub-par performances of American Idol finalists - cry baby David Archuleta and rocker wannabe David Cook. Is this seriously the best the states have to offer? I’m not denying either one of these fellas have talent, but I find myself feeling thankful that my cold medication is about to send me into an 8 hour coma.

Archuleta, the 17 year old crooner who should stick strictly to show tunes and Josh Groban renditions, cries at every given opportunity. I don’t get it? Why so sad shooky? Is it because of Paula’s inspiring, prescription-drug-induced critiques? Side note, can we please check the contents of that woman’s coke glass prior to each taping? Is it appropriate that she sluuuuuuuuuuuuur her way through each show? That is some kinda contract she’s rockin – not too shabby for the washed up former Laker girl (didn’t she have a song or 2 in the 80’s as well?).

David Cook on the other had seems more marketable to me. Perhaps it’s my taste in music that causes me to support team Cook, however his mediocre Bon Jovi ballads are not rockin my world either. It’s interesting to me what appeals to the American public. Will it be the town crier, or the rocker without a reason to rock? Who cares really.

In other news, I thought I might share with you an interesting little gizmo that may catch on in N America over the coming months. A friend of mine described these as the next Tickle Me Elmo with an iPhone thrust up his backside. It’s called the Nabaztag. A robotic rabbit - not the one made famous by Samantha Jones, but a cute little guy that connects to your Wi-Fi router to keep you up to date on your email, news, weather, or essentially anything you program him to keep tabs on. In other words, he listens to your commands, talks back…he even smells?? Your own little personal assistant in the form of a hello kitty inspired bunny. Think they’ll catch on?

Countdown to Sex and the City: The Movie – 10 days…tick tick tick…

Get your filthy paws off my pointy bra

2008-05-12T20:17:00.000-07:00

Ok people…shit is about to get girlie.

Madonna – otherwise known as Madge, Material Girl, Mrs. Ritchie and other, has released her latest musical effort – Hard Candy. You would have to be completely daft…or deaf…not to have heard the buzz around this album.

Admittedly, I am 100% bias having loved this woman for as long as I can remember (lacey gloves and spangles come to mind, but it’s fuzzy). If I thought the album was shit I would admit it, but this is simply NOT so. Having listened to the 12 tracks non stop over the past week, I’d like to share with you…

The Urban Cowgirl’s official Hard Candy review:

‘Candy Shop’ is a sticky sweet start to the album, produced by The Neptunes, who have clearly given Timbaland a run for his money. Pop-disco dance track ‘Beat Goes On’, produced once again by The Neptunes and featuring an appearance by Kanye West, makes me wanna boogie oogie oogie, til I just can’t boogie no more. Love it. Madge gives a solid shout out to her Latin fans with the sexy ‘Spanish Lesson’, also produced by - you guessed it - The Neptunes, thoughtfully laced with Latin guitar licks. Shakira called, she wants her hips back…cuz they don’t lie. Monsieur Timberlake collabs on ‘Dance 2Night’, offering up yet another dance track to make you drop it like its hotter then a Kabbalah convention. And let’s not forget the single that started it all, ‘4 Minutes’. Timbaland’s only true gem on the album, although it has become so overplayed I get a little twitchy when I hear it. I digress; it’s still a hot little ditty.

The Urban Cowgirl gives this album 5 Malawi orphans out of 5.

Dust off your stilettos as the official countdown to Sex and the City: The Movie is on – 17 days until the film opens worldwide; 16 days until the Vancouver premier…anyone have tickets and in desperate need of a date? Cosmos on me?

Legitimate logo wear or laughing stock – you be the judge

2008-05-05T21:52:00.000-07:00

Why is it, time and time again, us Canadians adopt a somewhat embarrassing Olympic look rivaling that of fashion victims and trendy try-hards alike? Why have we allowed the Hudson Bay Company to take part in the selection, and ultimately, the responsibility of producing such important paraphernalia as it relates to our identity as a nation…our culture…the very essence of our Olympic team? WHY are our athletes forced to traipse about in something that resembles a bad Ed Hardy knock off? Helloooooo – the Hells Angels called, they want their tracksuits back. In utter shock from these monstrosities, my lovely bf and I took to the town this past weekend to see these wretched rags up close.

May I present to you, the Urban Cowgirls Top Three Offenders:

Exhibit A: the B-Tube. This Olympic accessory gets points for its multi-purpose design, for example: one can wear this as a head band, a bandana or a mouth muff to protect our athletes from Beijing’s pollution problem. This is apparently a ‘top seller’. Wha?

Exhibit B: the Tapestry Print Pant. My favorite. Ooooooh, let me throw on these bad boys and walk down Robson Street whilst sending innocent bystanders into sudden seizures. Excellent. How very patriotic.

Exhibit C: Less we forget this little gem people – the Olympic Onesie. Complete with a triple 8 on the back…what does that mean? We Canadians aren’t devil worshippers, but we’ll ice skate figure eights around you? Watch out world – here comes Canadia!

Speaking of Canadia (nice segway UC), I’d like to offer a quick plug to a gal from my hometown who is competing for Canadian Idol. She’s lucky she’s good, otherwise I’d have a hay day…but she’s good…really good. Her name is Nadine McNeil, click here to check out her online audition.

The Urban Cowgirl would like to wish you all a happy Cinco de Mayo! Viva la Me-hee-co! I sure wish I was kickin’ it with our friends south of the south for a little fiesta action right about now. Here’s to you my burrito eatin’ buddies. Te amo amigos. Until next week my little enchiladas. xx