Monday, February 26, 2007

The Quickest Way To A Man's Heart...

There's 6 days remaining until date #3 with the Englishman and it's hammer time. It's not close enough to panic over my end of the bargain, but this is a strategic move. One that must have some thought put into it. Like strategy in Battle Ship.

Only there'll be no maneuvering to launch a torpedo and take out a sub, or be boarded (well, ok maybe a bit of that). But really, I will find out if the old adage is correct...that the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

I sent an email to my coworkers Mary (aka Undercover Mother) and Rowan requesting their assistance with my dilemma. I asked Rowan to name the most delicious mouth watering sinful dessert he's ever tasted. I asked Mary to name the easiest dish she's ever made that yielded the greatest results, er, I mean compliments.

Rowan replied with a discription of a three layed cake his mum used to make (white, "pink" and chocolate with frosting on each layer). It sounded completely disgusting. And apparently she's never used a recipe in her life, she kept it all "up here". As I'm reading the email I can picture Rowan pointing to his head. I think he's trying to derail my dessert plans.

Mary, on the other hand, replied with four little words... "Sex In A Pan."

At first, I though she was just being funny - mostly about my [in]ability to cook, but more importantly that it doesn't matter what I make. It can be a simple dish, but tempting and as hot as hell.

As it turns out, Sex In A Pan is an actual dish. But Mary didn't know the recipe. Luckily, my coworker Mandy has it memorized (no, I didn't ask questions). So now I too have the recipe.

If only I knew what to wear...Pants? Skirt? Dress?

Hmmm...I might have to poll the men on this one.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: A Whole Lot of This And That

List of things to do Saturday night:

- go to supper with dear friend Nan
- enjoy glass of wine
- clean very dirty house
- magically make piles (and piles) of laundry disappear
- watch movies (Marie Antionette and Running with Scissors)
- do taxes
- take down outside Christmas decorations

Apparently I'm less efficient than previously thought.

Especially after two glasses of wine.

The Arm Not Taken

The rain has stopped and here comes the sun. I've narrowed down my dating prospects from 3 to 1 in as many weeks. The last man standing is the charming Englishman, let's call him Liam.

Yesterday, we had our second date at a local cafe. Liam now refers to it as "our cafe". [sigh]

Part of the reason I like him is because he finds my awkward dating blunders endearing and not a sign to run for the nearest exit.

Example #1: During a bit of a lull in the conversation, I asked him "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" After a thoughtful pause, Liam explained he had once purchased a $150,000 car. Naturally, he threw the question back to me (I really should have my own answer prepared before asking that sort of thing). I inappropriately blurted out that I once played a game of strip poker. Curious, Liam asked if I still played. Again, I blurted, "No, I'm not very good a poker." He found this quite amusing. But I didn't stop there...I went on to say that perhaps I should stick to something I'd be better at, like strip Scrabble. He asked for clarification ofcourse about whether it was the stripping or the Scrabble I was good at while trying to keep a straight face. Then we just sat there for a moment. He admitted that he was still thinking about Scrabble and perhaps we should change the subject, so I proceeded to ask him about his favorite color. [It's blue].

Example #2: After our lunch we were enjoying our beverages, coffee (Liam) and tea (me). I asked the waitress for a glass of water, and then went on to explain that my facialist advised me to drink 2 glasses of water for every cup of tea or coffee I consumed. I hadn't realized I was so thristy and began really sipping the water back through my straw. I paused to take a breath and my straw flew up out of my glass, flinging water on my face and arm. I laughed, and then said that obviously, the water is absorbed much quicker into the body if you apply it directly to the skin instead of drinking it.

Example #3: Being the perfect gentleman, Liam walked me to my car after we left the cafe. He pointed out some ice off to right on the sidewalk (this was my cue to take his arm because I was wearing heels and he didn't want me to fall. He did the same thing on our first date and then informed me that any arm taking would have consequences, like a kiss on the cheek). I neglected to take his arm. When we reached my car, I being the graceful singelton that I am, muttered "So I assume somebody will be in touch?" Liam smiled and said that somebody would be in touch.

Back at work I was retelling my dating awkwardness for the benefit of my coworkers who are smug marrieds and have to "live vicariously through me". Within a half an hour there was an email in my inbox from Liam asking if he could cook me supper next weekend.

I offered to bring dessert and my Scrabble board (for a regular game ofcourse).

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Undiscovered Dating Techniques #4: Ass-traction

Undercover Mother and I were chatting away at work yesterday, discussing her daughter Bridget's most recent object of malefection (i.e. male eye-candy). Let's call him Ted.

Bridget is using a rarely used but powerful technique to get Ted's attention...she's using the laws of ass-traction. Much like the laws of attraction, ass-traction specifically uses the hypnotic powers of the gluteus maximus, much like the effect of a tractor beam on Star Trek, men (and aliens alike) are defenseless.

This technique is especially useful during spinning class, as long as your bike is within ass-traction range.

Employed and enjoyed by men and women, the ass-traction should not be attempted by amateurs. You must be willing to put your money where your ass is (via a few trips to the gym to first make sure you're in prime ass-traction condition). Coordination and tight fitting shorts are a must.

Use at your own discretion.

Monday, February 19, 2007

An Open Letter to My Ex-Boyfriend

Dear [insert name here],

I've deleted your email address so I couldn't send a reply to your too-little-too-late email. Here's all the things I wanted to say about why we "didn't/ don't/ won't work" but held back...

#1: You don't know how to say what you really mean and mean what you really say. Unless it's about something no one cares about, like wind surfing.
#2: You make the worst coffee I've ever tasted (I never thought "ass" was a coffee flavour til I met you).
#3. Yes, that huge crack across the front windshield of your car is unsafe and does make you look like you are too cheap to replace it.

Ok, I'm having way too much fun now...

#4. I find it hard to date a man that wears the same waist-size pants as I do.
#5. I hate the person I become when I'm around only you (too sensitive and too accomodating).
#6. The bumbling fumbling stuttering almost-gentleman Hugh Grant routine is only endearing when done by Hugh Grant.
Ok, so you're a good kisser. But that won't keep a girl warm at night.
#8. You've never actually been in love (your words). I guess you mean, with someone other than yourself...

There. I feel way better now that I got that off my fantastic chest.


PS - I probably should have told you all of this in the car that day you drove me home. But I knew you weren't being straight with me (I guess some things never change). It seems I've grown tired of being the only one telling the truth.

I really do wish you the best. With someone else.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: The Ugly Sweater Party

As you know, I like to pirate ideas from fellow bloggers and today's post is no exception! The "Single Girl On A Saturday Night" is a regular feature on Amy's blog. And yes, I do realize it's Sunday already.

Last night my sister Kirsten and I went to an Ugly Sweater Party.

We spent a small chunk of time (quite possibly 60 minutes in total) at three different second-hand stores in a quest to find the ugliest of the ugly to wear.

We found a strong contender at our first stop - a flowered synthetic thingy. And best of all, there were 6 identical sweaters so Kirsten and I could do the "twin thing" which we haven't done since university (probably because we're not actually twins). Unfortunately, the sweaters were $12 each (a bit pricey for second-hand even if they were Tommy Hilfiger and still had the price tags on.) I tried my best to wheel-and-deal offering to take both for $10 total. The shop keeper disappeared out back for a minute and returned to announce that $7 each was as low as she could go and still make money. So we pulled the old "we'll think about it" routine.

Two shops later, we'd found something suitable (in ugliness and in price). My pick was a retina-burning blue and baby diarrhea green striped pullover with smaller lines of mustard yellow thrown in. My sister literally stumbled upon a low cut greenish blueish knit sweater that tied at the elbows, and resembled something a bar wench would have sported back in the 1700's...

We were able to take our time getting ready (a rarity with the kids). Kirsten assisted with my hair which she hasn't done since university (I didn't know it could defy gravity like that). And I didn't even get burned by the curling iron.

My sis even offered to do my makeup too but I'm still scared from when she did a practise run through of my makeup for my wedding 10 years ago - she wanted to achieve a "different" color and opted to add a touch of eyeshadow to the gloss. My lips ended up stained black and goopy. So, I maned the makeup brushes myself. Not that I'm completely hopeless and don't know what I'm doing or anything.

People put some great thought into their sweaters! One guy (who shall remain nameless) wore a black women's sweater, complete with beading and baubles and sequins on the front. Funny part is, he pulled it off, and looked radiant. I never thought I'd say that about a man. The host (a lanky 6"3+ guy) sported a women's cream cashmere belted cardian which made him look like a pimp, albeit, a very soft one.

It was a great time. And gave everyone a great opening line - "That's one ugly sweater!"

I ended up becoming quite attached to my sweater which I was alble to pull off with a sunny yellow collared polo shirt and jeans. In fact, I got lots of compliments.

I guess ugly really is in the eye of the beholder.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Dead On Arrival

See this guy? He's not a doctor but he plays one on TV.

In a moment, he's going to place those paddles on a patient.

I think I could use his services on the men I've been dating lately. They all seem to have had their heart stopped (or even worse, ripped out) by their ex-wives/ ex-girlfriends/ ex-housekeepers.

Much like a critical patient laying unconscious on an ER stretcher, these guys are in no condition to be out walking about with non-patients and going out on dates as if they're whole.

But they do.

And I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. I could manage a little mouth-to-mouth but that's about the extent of my medical training.

So we all know how this ends. Things are DOA before the entrees.

Which is a pitty. Because I was really looking forward to dessert.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

I Think I Love You (And You, And You, And Ooooo Definately You)

Happy Valentine's Day to all you singletons and smug marrieds out there in Bloggerland!

Unlike most Valentine Days, I did not harbour any bitterness to the lovey dovey couples of the world who continue to shamelessly flaunt their commitment to love. Nor did I feel the urge to biff a hard biscuit at the heads of couples strolling hand in hand down the sidewalk. And not once did I feel the need to puke at the sight of ugly girls on the arms of their obliviously cute boyfriends. Perhaps I have turned over a new leaf. And perhaps I've realized that even ugly people deserve to be happy.

It's turning out to be a banner year.

But seriously, this is the first Valentine's Day that I'm not sulking about feeling sorry for myself because I'm single. I was actually happy today instead milling about at the pity party.

To celebrate my lessons learned and personal growth, I bought myself some top notch flowers - after all, I deserve it. Personal growth is hard work! I also picked up a bottle of wine (which I'm already 3/4 of a glass into and becoming rather silly) and some portabello mushrooms so I can cook up my piece de la resistence - stuffed mushrooms! Yummy.

I guess I've learned to love the one you're with, even if you're the only one in the room. Because if you don't love yourself, who will.

Ok, that sounds way too philosophical this far into a glass of wine. Enjoy your awesomeness!

XOXO, Erika

Monday, February 12, 2007

Sweet Dreams, Third Edition

Last night I had QUITE the dream.

But I can't write about that. So, I'll tell you about another dream I had...

I was at a record store, searching for some CD I really wanted. But was having a hard time finding it. Probably because I was browsing in the LP section. As I was flipping through the album covers, I kept saying "" to each one I glanced at. [I know, I know - already you can see how this is going to go down in the "analysis section"].

[Sidebar: When I was a "newbie" in the world of student journalism I had the pleasure of working with a cool-as-shit Editor-in-Chief, let's call him Josh. He was effortlessly cool with his rumpled brown hair, like a modern day James Dean, but not gay. I mean, this guy even made cigarettes look cool. This one time at the pub he picked me up and swung me around on his shoulders like he was a figure skater or something. Sigh.]

Anyway back at the CD store in the LP section...

Josh (see sidebar) runs up to me, takes a hold of my shoulders with his big strong hands and says "I've been looking everywhere for you. I've been looking for six years but I've finally found you!" Ok, this is where it goes off the rails...

Josh gets down on one knee and proposes!

I say yes. Naturally.

What kind of crazy **** is that?

The "can't find the CD" part probably relates to my search for the right guy. But since I'm looking in the "LP section", I'm looking in the wrong place for the kind of guy I want.

Either that or, I really am looking for a CD. Or maybe I should quit eating salsa before bed.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

V Is For...

Houston, we have a problem.

On Friday, I got lucky! A co-worker was selling tickets on a romantic weekend getaway package at a local chalet, and a gift certificate at a fancy restaurant. I was feeling lucky and purchased two tickets. One of which was the winning ticket. Two thumbs up.

My co-worker Rowan teased that now I just had to find someone to take. Uh huh. Without missing a beat, I told him it wouldn't be a problem and winked.

Except that it is a problem. Well, not a "problem"...there's no expirary date (on me or the getaway/ gift certificate). But there isn't anyone right now that I would take.

Which reminds me, things have been grounded with the Pilot. This is actually a good thing. He didn't make me want to throw up. This is actually a bad thing.

So, if you're keeping track, feeling like you're going to throw up when with a guy = good, not wanting to throw up when with a guy = bad. Everyone wants to feel those butterflies and not an empty void.

Also, in case you're keeping track - Valentine's Day is three days away. This year, I want to receive flowers from a secret admirer (or maybe a not-so-secret admirer). Not roses mind you, they're so overrated and cliche. Maybe a nice bouquet of daisies or something. Like he put some thought and personality into it.

Can you believe that some single women actually send flowers to themselves on Valentine's Day and pretend it's from a potential suitor? I could never imagine doing that [*cough cough*].

I've been reminded over the years on Valentine's Day how truely sweet and thoughtful guys can be. I think one of the best gifts I ever received was from my coworkers at the university radio station where I used to have a morning show. The guys chipped in and bought me chocolates and the sweetest card. I ended up finding out later that while they all adored me (naturally), they were actually from the station manager who secretly had a crush on me.

Sigh. Is it possible to get lucky twice in one week?

Thursday, February 08, 2007

5 Things You May Not Know About Me

Today's post was pirated from fellow blogger Peter DeWolf who, let's be honest, inspires most of us with his all kinds of awesomeness.

5 Things You May Not Know About Me (Or perhaps more aptly named, 5 Things You Wish You Never Knew About Me):

- I am currently afflicted with a "touch" of laryngitis.
Cons: Am on the verge of cancelling plans for this weekend unless I brush up on my charades skills
Pros: Sexy gravelly Kathleen Turner-esque voice (or voice of a 20-year pack-a-day smoker). May finally have a legitimate reason to use finger puppets on a date.

- I have a mole on my right nipple.
Cons: Cindy Crawford made the upper lip mole sexy but to my knowledge there has not been a campaign to increase awareness and acceptance of moles on breasts.
Pros: Showing random people my, mole.

- I think this season of the OC sucks ***!
Cons: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie brood while wearing his trademark wife beater.
Pros: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie beat someone's *** while wearing his trademark wife beater.

- I drive a Toyota that's 10 years old.
Cons: Possibly hitch hiking to work.
Pros: Being able to say I drive a "classic." Plus, it has a sunroof that gives me that sexy wind blown look in the summer, and a "sunroof" tan.

- I make a mean plate of stuffed mushrooms
Cons: Being able to cook little else.
Pros: Appearing somewhat competent in the kitchen, especially when mushrooms are accompanied by wine (lots and lots of wine).

This wasn't as easy as it looks - so what don't I know about you?

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

What Would Brian Boitano Do?

[Smooth and authoritative sounding announcer voice]:"Folks, I'm Frank Jones and welcome to another edition of ABC's "Skating With The Blogger Stars".

"Tonight, we'll see how The Redhead-Next-Door fairs after taking a 5 year break from skating. Will she return better than ever? Or will daydreaming about potential mates have her thinking about life off the ice? And, more importantly, what will she be wearing."

"Here she is...let's watch."

Enter me, onto the ice. A bit more wobbly than anticipated.

Ah, best to warm up so to avoid...too late too bloody late! Charlie horse, charlie horse, G**D*** charlie horse. Breathe in. Breathe out. Maintain composure. People are watching...including two cute guys.

Ok, that's better. Hey, is that music playing? Yes, yes it is! It's Car Wash (the original track). [Gives attitude to self] "Alright girl get your figure skating groove on!"

While doing an on-ice version of the hustle...receive racing challenge. From an 8 year old little boy named Jaden. Gleefully accept challenge. This will be like taking candy from a baby
. But on skates. And, there's no candy involved. (What, do you think I'm some kind of person that would give candy to kids?) Or a baby (What kind of parent would take their baby skating - that's dangerous!)

The race begins. That little bugger's legs can move fast. Hey, he's cheating already! Must. skate. faster.

And then...

Something that oddly looks a bit like this.

But less co-ordinated. And instead of falling backward, I went forward. Much like when a baseball player is sliding into homeplate. But without the cushiony dirt.

And I had on a pair of jeans and a sweater instead of sequins and nylons.

So really, nothing much like this picture. But I'm sure we both hurt the same afterwards, albeit in much different places.

How to recover from potentially [actually] embarassing fall? Hmmm, what would Brian Boitano do?

So, I got up. Dusted the ice shavings off. And smiled at the two cute guys.

Then did a little twirl.

When out of visual and audio range, I asked my friend Terri if she knew first aid (she does). Then I told her that her son Jaden was racing round the rink - it's against rink rules! ;) In the end, I always win. Bruuuuhaha.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Hallelujah! [It's Raining Men]

As the saying goes, when it rains it pours. This saying can be applied to many subjects including (but not limited to) construction, dating, dog food and ofcourse actual meteorological events.

After a lengthy dating drought I seem to have found myself smack dab in the middle of a romantic rain storm. And I like it.

After sucessfully being adopted by three (and a half) couples, one of them got down to business straight away - with a charming British chap that worked with her sister (I'm such a sucker for an accent). Then ofcourse my sweet coworker was on a matchmaking mission with the pilot.

Having choices are good. Needing index cards to record and track information to keep it straight, is not.

I guess we all have a burden to bare ;)