Fairytale People

In the midst of my chaotic unpacking I came across a note my dear friend had written me circa jr high days when note writing was still a big thing.

The note was a literary definition for the word “Manicorn”

“Manicorn”: (noun) is defined as “A mythical male creature who is successful (read: pursuing his own passion and can pay his own bills), funny, chivalrous, masculine (read: not chauvinistic) adventurous, artistic (read: not suicidal).”



My good friend then followed the definition by drawing a delightful little picture of a faceless man with a unicorn horn for a penis.

Needless to say the Manicorn does not exist; neither I nor any of my friends has ever come upon any horn-penises or a romance novel worthy dude who is not also a gigantic pot of douchery. Just as unicorns do not exist (deal with it you fruity optimists) and just as fairytales do not happen to everyday people. The reason for this is: fairytales are simple. They follow a standard plot diagram; there is a rise, peak and fall. The story ends at the happiest moment and the reader does not see into the next fifty years of the main characters, no body (but the villains) are old, unattractive or have intentions that aren’t morally sound. Shit’s simple, there’s no questions of job security or income taxes and worrying about the next time you’ll get laid or have your period.

No eight year old wants to read a story about Mr. Brown and his constant worries as to whether he’ll have enough money in his RRSP by the time he’s sixty.

That being said, there are fairy tale people.

Don’t get excited, I’m not turning into an optimist, I haven’t come upon a sudden life changing realization of hope – keep those tiny rainbows in your pants people. Fairy tale people are just like you, but better.



I’ve got a friend who looks like Snow White, sings like Sleeping Beauty and smiles like Rapunzel. She is the Disney princess incarnate. She’s beautiful and talented AND friendly as all hell (to a scary point, I feel the need to turn into a Harley riding, beard growing, scary woman of questionable sexuality when I’m out with her in public to fight off all the creeps).

But she has her problems like everybody else, she thinks stupid people are stupid, finds annoying people annoying and doesn’t give that pretty smile of hers to those who don’t deserve it (for the most part). She also ain’t a virgin, and kudos to her for that. Disney princesses were always surrounded by men, and my god why shouldn’t they want a little sugar. (Albeit she ain’t exactly dwindling her bed post either, but that’s beside the point).



I’ve never met anyone quite like her, which reinforces the fact that fairytale people are about as rare as fuckin’ unicorns – and if you can find one, I’ll bet you five skinny oiled bitches that they ain’t even the slightest bit single.

Fairytale people are shiny beacons of the human race and upon coming face to face with one you’ll with often be plagued by symptoms of self-reflection, arousal, and a general sense to question whether or not you should have another drink – for fear that this glittery image may just be a figment of your imagination.

If you come upon one of these people do your best to try to seduce them! Chances are it will not work, but you’ll probably learn something and have a couple of exc ellent erotic dreams in the near future.

So, maybe the Manicorn does exist, but sure as hell not in my world – A gal’s gotta stick to her people mine being of course frequently unemployed, hairy, of questionable moral judgement and a wee too bit fond of the drink. At least I know where I’m at, ammirite?

'DILF of the Week'

At the request of my dear friend Hannah, who consequently may also herein be referred to as "the wife" since my life is so cute and sad right now, I give you Donald Draper played by that guy who plays Donald Draper. Not much needs to be said, he makes cigarettes look cool.

Sensual Seduction

Let's talk music people.

Everybody loves music, you don't have to be a pop culture expert to have a favorite band or even an unhealthy obsession with some greasy pedo-bearded front man. There's something for everybody and it all comes down to what gets you groovin'.

So naturally some time ago people began to correlate music with sex. I'm not talking calling mick jagger a 'sex symbol' here people (although that's part of it). I'm talking about the nitty gritty, the orchestra in the box spring -

I'm talkin' about music to bang to.



The soundtrack of love making ladies and gentlemen. Like in every other situation, it's pretty "each to his own" when it comes to what tunes to bump 'n grind to. Some people like easy listening, some people like heavy metal and some people like the soft sounds of nothing but their own moans. The point is, it's a big, opinionated world out there.

Personally, I have not picked a particular artist, track or album that I always go to when thing start to get heated. I've got it on to Motown, classic rock, the phantom of the opera soundtrack and very nearly to the sweet sounds of Nina Simone singing about black slavery (which, needles to say ended up ruining the mood). I personally do not care what is playing in the background (excluding musicals, that shit's just weird) but for some people the right tunes are essential to setting the mood.

Case in fictional point, no movie can have a truly hilarious sex scene without Marvin Gaye's classic ballad "Let's Get it On" playing in the background.

Music, like setting, scenery and who you're with are all part of putting together the ultimate fantasy. The toe-curling, silk sheet gripping, fabulous after sex hair perfect romp that we all longed for in the midst of clumsy teenage masturbation's.

Like I've said before, that shit ain't gonna happen and everybodies probably going to be left disappointed.

Hey, you may not be able to control what you look like post-coital but you damn sure can bone to the tempo of Rammstien or Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, your choice.

You can bang to any tune you want - even the kind of music that you wanted to loose you're virginity to (Van Halen anyone?).

So whether it's to The Black Keys or the Bee Gees, may you all bone without skippin' a beat.

'DILF of the Week'

Jeff Goldblum, the man who started my love for men who may or may not be Jewish but sure as hell look it. While others were screaming at the gigantic mechainical dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, I was nursing a fem boner. Good times.

Fairytales and Porn

So the other day this picture inspired me to wonder

Have we been ruined by idealism?

In a world full of unreachable ivory towers and Jessica Rabbits have we as a culture lost all sense of possibility.

The short answer to that I think, is yes. Most definitely. Because little girls were raised on fairy tales and pre-teen boys quickly discovered porn people are left feeling unhappy with what they have because of unrealistic expectations.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we should all just settle. Dare to dream you wide eyed love bandits. But who can recognize the great shit laying in front of them when they're constantly being bombarded by images of beautiful people playing beautiful fictional roles (see: those in ideal situations).

That's the thing people, ideals are fiction. They were not created by example, they were created by people who felt like dreaming up something better then what they had.

This brings me back to the virginity thing. I've met throngs of young women (and a few young men) who envision (or in the more depressing cases, envisioned) first time sex to be a king sized bed lined with unstained red silk sheets in which two individuals twisted together in a smooth dance and were left with smiles on their faces and flattering after sex hair.

Only to discover that the mattress was creaky, elbows are pointy and that the experience, overall, didn't last that long.



Thus a band of women (and some men) that were so emotionally scarred by their first time that sex becomes a unfortunate, and often dreaded, part of life.

I don't know about you guys, but it sounds like a nightmare to me.

and then you have those people that are ok with sex, but hold it in very high esteem.

Those, "sex is for when you love each other" folk.

and good for you if you can hold yourself to that standard. But what about the rest of us that find the whole "love" thing difficult. We can't have sex!? Life is hard enough! Maybe all we can hope for is to like a person enough that being bathed in their sweat becomes an ok thing.

I mean, wouldn't we all have a lot more fun if we tried to focus on things we like about the people around us, instead of constantly searching for the "whole package"?

Call me a lover of man kind, but the fastest way for everybody to be happy is to let some shit go.

That being said, this section is reserved for dudes with flattering body hair only.

'DILF of the Week'

Speaking of flattering body hair, have you seen this guy? It should be against the law for someone to be so fucking attractive. Joe Manganiello, the new werewolf (yeah go ahead and judge, it's like porn with a plot and a high budget) on true blood should be arrested, and I'm just the creep for the job.

Femme Fatale

I have this problem.

This lady problem.




And by that, I mean I have a problem with ladies.

No surprise that I was always one of those youngin's who flocked around with the opposite gender despite social conventions. As a child I liked to play with lego, fire makeshift guns at my friends and clothesline kids that were chasing after me. You could say I was a tomboy (despite the whole ballet thing).

That's because without knowing it I realized at a very young age that men are easy. They're easy to get into the sack, sure, but eight year old Ella was more focused on the fact that men (boys) are easy to get along with. Punch them if they punch you and learn some swear words and dirty jokes and you're in. Secure your position by treasuring a nerdy pastime and you've got some buddies for life.



Getting acquainted with women, however, is a lot like solving a Rubik's cube with a zombie munching on your left arm. Yeah, yeah, I know. You're getting ready to tell me the same thing my limited number of girlfriends tell every time I ask them why women are such bitches: "well, you're kind of intimidating Ella". You have a point there, couple my patent bitch glare with all these good looks I got going on and most ladies take one look at me and think 'trouble'. She's tall, blonde, and confident. She's going to steal my (future) husband. I must destroy her with the purest form of passive aggression known to man - Alienation.

Thus assuming I can not penetrate brick wall judgements by de-establishing my self as a threat (and possibly, heterosexual?) I am forced to make conversation with the only person willing to chat with me in the room, who happens to be (surprise surprise) a dude.

and thus the vicious cycle continues.

I mean seriously ladies, why can't we all just get along. Don't get me wrong, I have been known to turn into a rabid she-wolf when an attractive woman is sighted around my territory, but I'm going to take the road less traveled and criticize myself along with everybody else. What happened to the sisterhood ladies? I thought all that bra-burning was for a reason. Let's stop hating each other and not be the reason for a giant step backwards in the feminist movement.

(For any of you that haven't seen 'Bitch Slap', go watch it now. Words cannot describe the hilarious damnation that is this movie.)

Let's take a cue from the hairier sex and beat the shit out of each other till we're satisfied, and then make up over a something only recently dead. I'm up for a couple'a bruises if it means avoiding getting looked at like you just kicked a puppy in front of PETA.

'DILF of the Week'

The Ultimate in DILF material, and my perfect man. Mike Rowe, the host of Discovery's 'Dirty Jobs'. Sure, he's charming and handsome, but what makes him so great? Well, ladies and gentleman.

He knows how to get dirty.

and he fixes things. Call me Barbara-Anne and this the 1950s but I like a man who is good with his hands (and has trouble talking about his feelings).

Mike Rowe is the last of his kind, a man's man who's taken a step past average and proudly shown old-fashioned masculinity to the world, while managing to be nonchalant and never once telling a woman to make him a sandwich.

and seriously, check out his chest hair. Might as well be the Mona Lisa to me baby.

And now for a cold shower.