They’re certainly not the most conventional amorous tastes, but they’re mine.
Roll up the Rim season has begun in Canada, and I'm feeling a mite homesick. So in the spirit of all things Canuck-ian, today I will speak on my embarrassing, long standing *Canadian* celebrity crush.
Anyone reading this in Doha should bail out now, because this post won't mean a hill of beans to you. Then again, neither will the turn of phrase 'hill of beans.' Just...go away.
I think a lot of Canadians develop crushes on public figures relegated strictly to local telvision. George Stroumboulopoulos is the best example of a Canadian sex symbol who gets little play outside of the Great White North.
Canadian celebrity crushes are personal and special. Since these men are local, maybe Canadan women think we actually have a chance.* Most of my friends have that one Canadian figure they would give it all up for.
*Ed Note. Hahahaha
Kara, for example, loves Matte Babel.
Jen H. and half of the country would die for George Stroumboulopoulos. DKM lurves Jennifer Hedger.
And my mom pines for Michael Ignatieff.
What? He's dapper.
Knowing I'm in good company with a bunch of other nerds, I present to you my *Canadian* celebrity crush.
I know, right? Like come on, Meredith. You know better.
The things is, I don’t! I’ve had a thing for Daryn Jones for years. This isn't something I'm getting over.
How it all started. Years ago, My brother and I were obsessed with the ROGERS cable show Buzz with Daryn and Mista Mo. I was a mere sprite when I fell in love with the awkward, theatre nerd looking Daryn Jones. I developed a crush in the way that any guy who is older than you, is on television, and is funny is totally hot.
Jones fell off my radar after Buzz ended, temporarily replaced by Jake Gyllenhaal or someone else who is likely gay. My DJ fire was rekindled when he joined the MTV Canada team in 2006. Suddenly, Daryn was everywhere and I was all, heyyyyy. I lived across the street from the MTV building, and poor, poor DKM had to listen to my exciting DJ sightings on a regular basis.
Me: Guess what! I Saw Daryn in Subway. I saw Daryn in Aji Sai sushi, and he ordered takeout. Daryn was at Hemingway’s but then he left really quickly!
Me: I know!
DKM: Did you talk to him?
Me: Oh my god. Hell no. What do you take me for?
*Here is the perfect opportunity to thank my lucky fucking stars I actually found someone to love my sorry, sorry ass.
I would never approach him in public, but I totally added Daryn to facebook when he joined MTV, which is twice as lame.
For the record, Daryn is a fantastic creep target. He has over 4,000 fans who watch MTV Live and immediately write on his wall. It's like the teenage mind, encapsulated on one webpage. Unreal stuff, though I'm pretty sure the erosion of grammar and spelling can be traced to Daryn’s facebook wall. For serious.
At one sad moment, when I was single and drinking heavily I sent him a private message on facebook. Clutching an inbred puppy in one hand (not a metaphor) and a box o’ wine in the other, I called him foxy or something equally offensive.
Ladies, that what you call playing it cool. I was that girl. How embarrassing for me.
The story doesn’t end there. I finally met the object of my affection last summer. And surprise! I didn’t try to hit on him.
What happened: Elisha and I went to our local watering hole one sunny afternoon, where Daryn happened to be enjoying the afternoon. It's the stuff dreams are made of, I KNOW.
We sat on the patio and strategically placed ourselves in his eye line. We amplified our conversation to an unnatural level, invited our friend Kara to join, and loudly ordered Jagerbombs (it was about 4 p.m.). We behaved like obnoxious fan girls but SOMEHOW our tactics worked. We shared a few rounds with Daryn and his posse that afternoon and I lived to blog about it.
At one point, Elisha ordered a round of Jagerbombs and offered one to Daryn. He essentially called us a bunch of douchebags, but drank one anyway. I love him.
I don't clearly remember what I said to Mr. Jones when we met. I got drunk in a hurry to silence any nerves. Alky! I do recall the part where he said I shouldn't go into PR because it would eat my soul...or something. This was the day before my successful interview for a PR position, but whatever. I probably should have listened.
All in all, it was a super day.
Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.
Friends, I hope this admission will inspire you to send me equally embarrassing stories of Canadian celebrity fandom. I would especially like to meet the ladies who want Peter Mansbridge and/or Rex Murphy. I know you're out there, lurking in the darkest corners of the interwebs.