Monthly Archives: May 2015

He’s Bringing Sexy Back

Once, there was a man in a chair beside a fake fireplace in the Saskatoon airport. He was reading a book. Not a magazine. A big book, and not a Dan Brown novel either, because I checked. His feet were up on an Ottoman, and he was completely immersed in the story.  I watched him for a while, in a non creepy way, and longed to congratulate him for being the sexiest man in the airport.

I have certain requirements that must be filled before a man enters the sexy category. Someone with a big truck, super size tires and no muffler? Not sexy.  A guy with a big truck, a muffler and regular tires who also helps his friends move their stuff? Very sexy. People underrate helpfulness. I find it extremely compelling.

Guys who do stuff for their families and friends definitely up their hotness quotient. Clarence was just home working in our yard and I had to use the garden hose just to cool down. Seriously. So. Reading publicly. Being helpful and kind. And funny. Funny works for me. These are sexy behaviors. But this next one tops them all. Men who Sing.

Now, its become obvious to me that Clarence is not in this category. However, in my defense, he had me convinced that he could. He dazzled me with his funny, charming, sneakily helpful ways. So every single time he opened his mouth, I could hear the back up music to a great song. It wasn’t until we’d been married a few years and I heard him howling in the shower that I realized I’d been duped. However, he is saved by the helpful thing, the reading thing and the funny thing. Whew!

But back to men who sing. I don’t know why they don’t take advantage of their talent. I sat beside a guy on the plane last week who pulled out a Velcro wallet to pay for his drink. I had to turn my face away. However, if he’d started serenading the stewardess, it would have cancelled the dorkiness of being a grown man with a Velcro wallet. This talent opens many doors and possibly more than that, if used correctly. Justin Timberlake figured this out as a child. And look where he is.  He brought sexy back. And, with the right props and attitude, so can you.

What’s It all About, Meatloaf?

I was driving down the street a number of years ago when Meatloaf’s song, ‘I would do Anything for Love, (but I won’t do that),’ came on the radio. I’d never heard it before. I pulled the car over, growing increasingly irritated that I couldn’t figure out exactly what ‘that’ was. Sex? Lying? Cross dressing? I’m still not sure. It troubles me.

At times, I feel like a foreigner in my own country. The most familiar city becomes strange once I’m trying to drive through it. I need a guide. Possibly, an interpreter. Someone kind, who thinks its all right to misunderstand situations or words. For example. When I was a little kid, I thought being fired from a job meant being tied to a gasoline soaked chair while a hooded man hovered nearby with a lit match. I begged my parents to always be on time for work. Just in case.

 Next, I wondered why the local theater kept repeating the movie, “DOUBLE BILL. “It’s in town at least once a month,” I said, shaking my head at the craziness of it all. My dad’s name was Bill. So was my brother’s. Hmmm. It took a friend’s kind explanation for me to understand they meant ‘Double Feature.’ Well, why not say that?

When hearing about a local spin class. (sadly, I was already an adult) I wondered how there could possibly be room for everyone. And what music does one choose for spinning? Does the class glide through the room, their arms spread in a whirling dervish bliss out? Is it ballet style dancing, or does it have more of a Woodstock feel?

Wrong again. There is no spinning. Just stationary bikes ridden like…stationary bikes. Well, then why don’t they just say that. Why don’t they call a spade a spade, instead of asking us foreigners to learn the language. We can’t. We’ve tried. It just doesn’t take.

Go ahead, world. Be like Meatloaf, enigmatic and opaque. Have your inside jokes that more literal people like me never get. Sure, I’ll be puzzled. Occasionally, I’ll become lost. But I won’t feel sad. Like Meatloaf says, two outta three ain’t bad.

Les Miserables and Me, Confessions of an Alto

Passion. Faith. Greed. Love. I sit in the Channing auditorium with my alto sisters, mentally echoing Jean Val Jean’s shout out to the universe. Who Am I? And why is my memory so dismal? I ignore the larger questions, of course. The ones the characters ponder during this three hour musical extravaganza.

Though, like them, I wonder where it all went wrong. Not with the musical, or our amazing cast who has the choir weeping every night. (At the end of the day, we are out of Kleenex and unable to breath from our noses.) No, the question for me is, why can’t I remember words better?

For example, instead of ‘chaperone,’ I’ve been singing ‘Chapter One.’ My alto sister to my right finally convinced me of the truth, but it is hard to change mid stream. Not for our cast members, of course, who remember all their words plus an incredible number of notes about their acting, (turn your head to the right, not the left, and drop your chin as you exit the stage.) Seriously, they should all receive a Tony and an honorary membership in Mensa.

It eats me up, the contrast between our on stage cast and myself. At one point, (Crystal will fire me for sure) I shouted out, “Send the slut away!” instead of ‘Sack the girl today!” Fortunately, it was during the dress rehearsal. The choir has received notes on diction, and I must shoulder a lot of the blame.

That’s the lovely thing about three performances. There are more chances to get things right. While Javert or Cosette stress about whether they’ve raised their hands at the right time, I’m praying I don’t sing out at the wrong moment. Which happens in choir. We call it ‘pulling a Timmy.’

Now that I’ve thrown another choir member under the bus, I feel a lot better.  I’ll prepare for tonight’s show with a lighter heart. Don my peasant garb, fill my water bottle and hold on to that last tiny cheat sheet. After all, I’m still in the dark about certain things. The answers to life’s big questions. The right words to this musical. I need all the help I can get.