The world is shrinking

I have to admit, I opened my laptop tonight without a single idea as to what I was going to blog about. I flipped on the TV for a bit of background noise, and landed on ‘The Bachelor – London Calling’…a show I rarely watch, because quite frankly, I’d rather watch a nail biting game of curling then this rubbish.

Seconds into the smutty saga, my jaw dropped as I realized that I actually know one of the Bachlorettes! Good GOD. Her name is Robin Canfield. We met in Cannes, France the Summer of ’05 and traveled together for about a week. I had already hooked up with a couple of cool Australian gals that were my age, and somehow Robin tagged along. She was 19 at the time and a handful to say the least. But weren’t we all at that age? I digress; it never ceases to amaze me how small our world really is.

The best bit, besides the fact that the other hoochie hopefuls seemingly despise her, is that the Bachelor seems to really dig our fair subject! Will she get the final rose or kicked to the curb on national television? Ha - I suppose I’ll have to watch now. Stay tuned…

she's the second gal from the left - click photo to enlarge

Loser cruiser or an environmentally-conscious commute?

Imagine if you will, a bitter cold and rainy Vancouver day. Hard to visualize, I know (insert sarcasm here). It’s 8am on Monday and you’re en route to your local bus stop, trying to maintain a solid grip on your coffee, umbrella and super-sized purse (because they’re hot for spring and therefore necessary). You board the bus which is stuffed to the brim with wet, growly people, yet somehow you manage a seat – yes! You then spend the next 10 glorious minutes with a stranger’s private parts in close proximity to your face and you think to yourself – ‘am I there yet’? ‘Am I the unlucky subject of an episode of Punk’d’? Ashton…where are yooooooouuuuuuuuu…?

You crank your iPod - loudly - in an effort to drown out your fellow commuters and somehow survive this journey from hell. Upon arriving at your stop, you try and escape this torture much like a herd of cows being let out to pasture.

Being a frequent passenger aboard Vancouver’s various modes of public transportation, I can speak from experience with regards to the narrative above. Thus, I have some rather strong opinions on the subject. Allow me to share with you the…

Urban Cowgirl’s Top 5 in Bus Etiquette

5. No talking please. For example, my mom (bless her) recently ‘rode the bus like regular people’ only to be rudely shut down while offering a friendly ‘good morning’ to a fellow female passenger, who was clearly not having it. It’s not a social mingler, it’s a mode of transport. Let’s keep the chit chat to a minimum.

4. Are you over the age of 85 and/or retired? If so, please refrain from riding the bus during peak commuter hours. Where are you going at 8:30am? Is it imperative that you visit the public library at this hour? PS I’m happy to respect the elderly and offer my seat to you, but please be mindful of the 4 inch heels I’m dealing with.

3. Do NOT for any reason ask me to turn down my iPod. This is my only survival mechanism. One day I will bravely reply, explaining ‘this is how I tune out riff raff like you’, but in the meantime, I’ll grin and nod and pretend to turn it down…but I won’t.

2. What part of ‘move to the back’ do you not understand? Tourists and ESL students exempt, however 90% of the passengers can hear the driver loud and clear. My favorite is when stubborn people refuse to move and the bus driver plays god and refuses to go anywhere until everyone has done so. Meanwhile, I’m increasingly late for work. Two words – move bitches.

1. Become self aware of your personal hygiene and refrain from boarding the bus if you stink. I realize some people don’t know they’re stinky, and these people should simply be shot ofcourse, but all others should know – if you board the bus, and you stink, I will stare you down like the stanky mcstank that you are.

Until next week dear possums. xx

Can singletons coexist with coupletons?

I recently shared an insightful conversation over cocktails with some foxy, singleton friends of mine. In manner of Linda Richman circa Saturday Night Live 1994, here’s a topic: men in committed relationships - they’re neither committed, nor in a relationship - discuss (heavy on the Jewish/New Yorker accent).

These said singletons have been engaging in a plethora of ‘other woman’ encounters, which leads one to question – are there really men out there that are in it for the long haul? Or rather, a series of ad-hoc hanky panky? The answer to that question is most definitely up for debate as my research on the subject continues…

Speaking from a 20-something perspective, I admit first hand to bearing a rather large chip on my shoulder with respect to interacting with the opposite sex. However, I do believe the ‘I’m young, I’m hot, and I don’t need you’ attitude will only carry you so far dear possums.

Does assuming the role of the other woman give some gals a sense of empowerment? Maybe, but last time I checked, we won the women’s lib movement ladies. We can vote, wear pants in the workplace and have successful careers. What else do we need to feel validated?

I for one have smooched my share of toads amongst a small pool of princes, but alas, there are good guys out there. Great guys in fact. I don’t buy into the man-hater propaganda. Call me an optimist, but I love men…adore them even. I’m not writing the fellas off just yet.

To be continued…

The Urban Cowgirl wishes you all a safe and sloshy St Patrick’s Day

Do men sprout ovaries at 35?

Urban Cowgirl – Make it a Double

2 posts this week

A funny thing happened during my Saturday morning stagger to the local coffee spot – a dear friend of mine called to advise (and perhaps warn) me that men are…acquiring ovaries?

A gruesome metaphor perhaps, but my gal pal had details to back this up, or rather explain. Sorry fellas, but I suggest you hang in there for this juicy piece of insight you’re about to receive.

Picture this…you’re a foxy 20-something, out on the town socializing with a few work colleagues. To respect our subject’s identity, we’ll say you work in the mortgage industry. You end up sharing a cab home with a particular mortgage broker you’ve been having indecent inklings for, only to be stopped abruptly at your front door. ‘Does he want to come up’ you think to yourself? Nope. Nope he does not. Instead, he wants to stand outside in the pouring rain to tell you how special you are. So special that he decides not to come in and rock your world, but to ask you if you’re interested in having children. Children? His children? At this point, you stare blankly at him, wondering if it’s the flurry of martinis talking or if you heard him correctly.

Biology says that women have a clock. Mother Nature’s way of telling us to take off our stilletos, bake some cookies and bear young. Is it possible that men also dawn this clock? The plot of procreation thickens.

The staggering part of this story is that under the same scenario, after the same party, this happened to another gal I know. What are the odds? Is this happening to single gals everywhere, and we just aren’t talking about it? Also, I must note, both the gentlemen in these stories are approaching the latter portion of their 30’s.

Fellas – I’m curious to hear what you have to say on the subject. Add your comments!

Ladies – are there other gals out there experiencing this pending pandemic? Shall we form a support group?

Flirting with the Foggy City

I recently found myself in San Francisco on business, spending quality time with one of my favorite towns. Something about San Fran feels familiar to me, like getting together with an old friend you haven’t seen in years, yet it feels like no time has passed at all.

Despite the impeding fog and steep hills, making 4 inch stilettos near impossible, I always manage to stumble upon something of interest. And this trip was no different.

I decided to hike up to Chinatown, one of my usual stops, to barter with the local vendors and track down some chicken satay street meat. Being just days before Chinese New Year, the streets were lined with bright red lanterns and gold, waving kitties. After scoring a cool $2 t-shirt from some elderly ladies that spoke no English with exception to ‘You buy? Good price for you’, I continued on in search of a nice meal.

I stumbled upon a quaint Italian bistro, where the patrons were as colorful as the décor. I love dining alone in foreign cities…people feel compelled to chat with you. I’m sure they were thinking ‘poor girl, eating alone’. Poor in company, maybe - rich in conversation, absolutely. The bartender told me that Sean Penn and his son had left moments before I arrived, and sat two tables away from mine.

If you haven’t been, you must go. If you have been, you completely relate to my affectionate ramblings.

The Urban Cowgirl’s San Fran Top 5

5. SFMOMA (San Francisco Museum of Modern Art) – blow your mind by perusing the innovative (or just plain weird) contemporary art exhibits.
4. Top of the Mark penthouse lounge in the Mark Hopkins Hotel on Nob Hill. Breathtaking views of the city and a menu of 100 martinis.
3. Haight Ashbury - the heart of the hippie movement and home to dozens of vintage shops. A people watchers paradise.
2. Fillmore Street – upscale shops and multicultural eateries, all housed in Victorian buildings.
1. Chinatown – the biggest in the Northern Hemisphere, and the best in my opinion!

Photo credit – San Fran Chinatown at night, Urban Cowgirl

Vote for me…er…I’m drunk…

I recently found myself knocking back a few at a local bar-star boozery to watch a friend compete in an amateur comedy show. Assuming this was a night of crash and burn comics and a few pity laughs, I was somewhat surprised to find one of our local politicians pitching his platform amongst a tipsy crowd. Oooooh, my lucky night!

With the audience primed after heckling several comedic hopefuls, Mr. Gregor Robertson, MLA for the Vancouver-Fairview riding, decided to hop on stage following the show to deliver a sloppy speech. Apparently, campaigning to intoxicated 20-somethings is deemed to be an effective campaign tactic. Robertson is throwing his hat in the ring for the coveted position of Vancouver’s Next Top Mayor. What would Miss Jay have to say?

Following Robertson’s speech, I was left feeling confused, so I decided to say hello and introduce myself. I asked if he was in fact serious and sure enough, he confirmed his sincerity with bona fide beer breath. Did I mention he represents the NDP? Would that be the ‘No Drinking Party’, or…?

He was accompanied by a campaign manager-like fellow, who proudly looked on while Robertson spoke, slurring his words and spilling his pint. I noticed he was sporting a Barack Obama ‘Our Moment Is Now’ button. Right. Ofcourse, yes, that makes perfect sense.

With that, I leave you with Obama's campaign theme song by the legendary Stevie Wonder. Perhaps Mr. Robertson could use his own campaign song, for example “I got 99 problems and a bitch ain’t one”. Just sayin’.