She's Got Superhuman Lips for Supersuction

She's got superpower hips for super reproduction.

Sufjan Stevens is so reliably earnest and heartfelt that when he busts out the irreverent it pretty much kills me.



Nothing to see here, but you get my drift, yeah?

Sufjan ... October 28th at The Commodore in Vancouver ... yes? Please? And also John Wayne Gacey Jr? Thanks, you're a peach.

Anywhoo ...

I didn't really sit down to write about Sufjan Stevens. I sat down to write about sexy. Which, yes, Sufjan absolutely is. Distractingly so at times.

But not the point.

My girl Otto and I have had many pj and coffee discussion about this over the past few weeks.  About, you know, what does it for us. It's ok, Mom, you can stop squirming. This isn't about sculpted abs and treasure trails. Not my steeze. I'll leave that to the girls on Bachelor Pad who, inexplicably, don't go into vajayjay lockdown at the sight of dudes with picklebutt walks in with embellished pocket jean.

Gag.

So internets, I present to you ...


A Non-exhaustive List of Things That Make My Knees Go Squidgy
(in no particular order)

• Passion - and no, I don't mean in-the-pants variety. Having something that you're super juiced on, that makes you lean in and talk too fast, or just a fantastically apparent sense of joi de vivre. 
• Thoughtfulness - honestly, it really is the small stuff. Birthday flowers never mean as much as 'Hey, I know you're boss is being a douchbag this week, and I thought you could use something pretty' flowers. Tulips trump roses every time. Knowing this, and how I take my coffee ... oh la.
• Kissing - this might be a gimme, but, back me up here, not all kissing is sexy. Sometimes it's awkward/sloppy/violating/please make it stop. A good kiss though ... and more specifically, the moment before the kiss. Take a moment before landing that bad boy. Whoooo, daddy.
• Restraint - see above (also, restraints). 
• Toques - this might be a Canadian thing, but toques do to me what male proximity to puppies / children does to breeder type girls. Elevates the ordinary to extraordinary. Especially if paired with ...
• Scruffy weekend facial hair- c'mon. I realize this is veering into LL Bean porn, but I'm from a damp coastal climate and therefor conditioned to appreciate men in their outdoorsy hotness. Probably explains why I was so obsessed with Relic on The Beachcombers.
• Mornings - ok, so take that scruffy Sunday face, add boyishly rumpled hair, drawstring pj bottoms, and delivering me coffee in bed, and I'm calling in fake sick to work for the next week.
• Good phone voice - well, good voice generally. A manly voice. Don Draper voice. I have one friend who has such an off-the-charts sexy voice that I tend to lose the line on what he's saying, I get so lost in it. Man voice. Yep.
• Cooking - I've always maintained that cooking is like fucking (sorry Mom). Done well it's totally instinctive. Books are great for ideas, but you need to have a sense of adventure. Men who are confident and at ease in the kitchen - and turn out an excellent meal - rare, but so, so tasty.
• Wine / whiskey - Yes, beer is great, but for long, winding conversations, evenings on the beach/roof/in the park I have to go wine or whiskey. A slightly heady drunk, a mildly smokey kiss. Beer just doesn't cut it.
• Humor - essential. And I don't mean big funny. I mean witty. Quick. Smart funny. Bring. It.
• Forearms - there is a reason my imaginary boyfriend Hank is a fine furniture maker. Hand tools = beautiful forearms > bumpy abs. Any day.
• Scars - love them. They're a map of personal history, charting out events, accidents, adventures. Best discovered under the covers. 
• Blanket forts - really it's about a sense of playfulness, but I always think of blanket forts. If we're going to burn out and rent a movie, why not build a private fortress in the living room to watch it from?
• Smelling good - and subtle. The best is when you only catch it when you're just getting into the hug. Oh man. I love something a little spicy, like Jo Malone Nutmeg and Ginger, but not going to lie, fresh laundry smell is pretty damn good too. It makes me want to hug you forever. 
• A fantastic walk - A bad walk can kill the quiver. And a great walk can deliver. Colin Firth once walked (no, he strode) past me, and oh my god, I don't think it's topable. I get it, Bridget Jones. I get it. Man stride. Throw on an overcoat and I'll need a moment alone.
• A sense of style - There are maybe three really well dressed men in Victoria. Not a sartorial town. And I don't mean in a $$ way. Men that know how to put it together. Yes please.
• A tinge of ginge - I'm not talking full out Carrot Top here. But there's a reason Hank (the aformentioned imaginary boyfriend) is a cross between Josh Homme and Britt Daniel (with a dash of Matthew Fox, just for flava).
• Articualteness - Boys, use your words. And punctuation. And please, please, work on the penmanship. It really sucks having to ask for an interpreter for cards and notes. 
• Confidence - I could take my own advice here. It's true though. Confidence is hot. Not cocky though. A subtle confidence. 
• Great taste in music/movies/art/literature - Obviously this is subjective, but I'm talking someone who isn't rocking the Top 40s on the way to Avatar. Throw down some Beach House and a few Oscar Wilde quotes. Please.
• Not taking yourself too seriously -  I had this boyfriend who was super serious about being respected (not always all that reciprocated, though) and he had this whole theory about banishing people that he felt didn't deliver beyond the metaphoric moat, and they'd have to swim with the crocs to get back to the castle. My sisters and I call him Castle Asshole. Being able to chill out is important. 

Oh gosh, this non-exhaustive list is getting exhausting. It's by no means a checklist (though it would be nice if it could be). There are just so many little things that make a man (or woman, for that matter) sexy, beyond the physically obvious.

What about you? What makes your knees weak and composure crumble?

#1 - I Am a Chronic Apologizer

This is a new thing, to fill the times when I don't have the time / inclination / exhausted drunkenness to write a regular post. Because for me (much like working out), I miss a day, then a week, then suddenly, it's been a year and I haven't posted. And I can't be responsible for the devastating effect that could have on the internet.

I very rarely do any of the list/note fill-in-your-answers-and-tag-10-people crap on Facebook, but a few months ago I was rocking some serious procrastination, so I did the 25 Things one. It was sort if cathartic and interesting in a self-reflective sort of way, and elicited some interesting responses.

So, to keep the wheels greased (hee hee, I said greased) I'm going to take on the supremely narcissistic task of coming up with 100 Truths. About me. Well, they're probably more inane facts, but they'll be true. There might be some overlap with the ones from Facebook, but I'm ok with that.

#1 - I Am a Chronic Apologizer

You know how some people have a swear jar? They have to put a quarter or dollar in it when they swear. Given the amount I swear I'd have been penniless and naked years ago (grade school) if anyone had tried to instigate swear jar rules. So while I haven't had a Swear Jar I have had an Apology Jar. It may have been a tin. Whatever. I lived with my friends Heather and Mitchell years ago, and apparently they were more disturbed by my penchant for verbal atonement that they were by the Tourette's-like gunfire bursts of vulgarity and blasphemy.

Rare and beautiful people, both of them.

Anyhow, it drove Heather so nuts that she started chasing dollars every time I'd apologize for something that didn't really require apologizing for. Which usually led to me apologizing for apologizing ... and on ... and on. Vicious circle, that.

It was brought to my attention again yesterday on a phone call to a new friend (hey new friend!). I've had a shitty few days and was scattered and not forming words right, and kept apologizing for it. Apparently a normal action would be to say:

"You know what, I'm off work in 20 minutes, and I'm really distracted right now, so how about I call you then?"

Rather than:

"Sorry, shit, I'm so scattered, I can't find my words. Dammit. Fuck. What an idiot. Sorry."

Or something along those lines.

This is a chronic issues. Not my most disturbing chronic issue, but chronic nonetheless. By way of example, I have caught myself apologizing:

• To a door I walked in to.
• For farting in an empty room.
• To a cab driver, when he didn't have the right change.
• To my doctor, when she's had to deal with less than glamorous issues. Which, really, is an occupational hazard.
• To the cat, when he runs in front of me and gets punted across the room.
• To a boss that felt bad when she had to lay me off.
  

There's $6 I owe you Heather. Though they are past incidents and I probably owe you interest. Sorry.