Skunk Anansie is that bad girl your parents don't want you to hang with, foul-mouthed and crude, out to shock - until you get to know her and she shows you that soft, vulnerable side that makes you want to hold her and love her until the pain goes away. It's a major switch from kicking in heads to weeping over lost love.

the man sings my dreams, croons my heart's desire, whispers in my ear what i need to hear.

The Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Van Morrison were my best friends growing up. I love nothing more than dropping round for a drink and a dance on a warm day.

Barenaked Ladies and I have been friends FOREVER. We went through all those geeky times in high school together, and we can still laugh over that. I got kinda jealous when they got all popular and stuff, but they assured me that we would always be friends, and they still loved me. I'll love them until the day I die, but we realized we just can't get married or anything, because there's something more waiting out there. We'll always be friends.

Trash Can Sinatras are my long distance love affair, mysterious, met on the internet kind of thing. All my friends secretly suspect that they're not real, that I write their letters to myself. But every time we get together, which has only been a few times now, we just have the greatest time.

Ahem.

A little dalliance with Sarah McLachlan seven years ago has grown into something akin to marriage now. Strange how it happens -- I don't even know where the time went. Things have gotten very comfortable between, and there hasn't been anything lately to "spice things up." I expect she'll be coming home one of these days soon with something exciting and new, even if it is variations on old themes. I've got no regrets about that -- we've had a good life together so far, and I think we're going to be together a long time to come.

I just hope she doesn't get wind of how I've been seeing Dido lately. I know, it's wrong and dirty and will only end in sorrow, but I can't resist somehow. I just hope I can get away in time, before I get really hurt. By her or by others, I can't say, but I don't want to get hurt.

That's not to even mention the handful of dates with All Saints. I mean, the gitchie-gitchie-ya-ya was kinky and fun, but it couldn't last. There just wasn't enough substance to the relationship. I have no regrets, and I really learned something from that. When Mya, Pink, Christina, et al. came round with the same kinky "mocha chocolata" routine, I was able to brush them off. Been there, done that.

Ricky and I are so passionate. We make love. Then we kiss. And then make love. And kiss. And we hold hands and take long walks in the park. We cry at movies, we laugh at movies, we talk about deep things. He likes candles a bit much, so I have little candle scars from him.. but it's all in the name of Passionate Love.

NSYNC and I are dancing partners. Whenever I need cheering up, they're there. And they're darn cute, too. Whenever I am down, they pick me up. They make me hyper. We go rolling down the hills at Miller Outdoor Theatre. We ride the coasters at Astroworld (and other six flags) together. We tell jokes and try to embarass each other. Badly. I love them to death.

Britney's in the closet. I'm ashamed to say I've been crawling into her room at night and wiggling around with her.

Bauhaus and I are so long and drawn out. They make me sad, but I keep coming back for more. I sway and touch myself. They always leave me wanting more, without ever really giving.

The Breeders and I like to sit around my big coffee table doing bong hits and playing Clue. Then someone breaks out the Cap'n Crunch and we all start giggling. We're best friends.

I like to slow-dance with the Cowboy Junkies in a smoky, dimly-lit bar. Afterwards, we drive out to the lake and just sit on the dock, passing a bottle of bourbon between us and watching the bats dip and soar in the night sky as they catch bugs.

Tori Amos and I used to be girlfriends, but I had to dump her because she was getting too needy and drama-queeny. The Breeders totally agreed with my decision, and we went out to shoot pool afterwards.

i have been having a passionate affair with U2 since i was a freshman in High School when The Unforgettable Fire came out. it was love at first site and it hasn't diminished one bit.

Aerosmith and i were secret lovers when i was younger and everyone else was in love with Quiet Riot and A Flock of Seagulls. for the longest time i was embarassed as HELL to admit my undying love for Joe Perry. then i realized that he's hot as shit and i didn't give a fuck anymore.

Bon Jovi and i have mad hot sex every time he's in town.

same goes for The Cult. it's very sloppy and firey and breathless and moaning and leaves me wanting more and more.

Tom Petty and i hold hands. he buys me ice cream and sings me to sleep. we shop at Pier One together.

i once let Billy Idol get to third base with me. that's as far as it went, honest!

Tom Waits likes to get drunk and tell me he loves me, but he doesn't remember it in the morning.

David Gray likes to slow-dance in the living room, and he brings me ice cream when I'm feeling sad.

Radiohead and I used to have these deep intellectual battles and separate under the guise of some wonderful albeit opposite resolution. We come together from time to time.

The "I've got your blood inside my heart" - that's spoon, yes? track 3 on girls can tell?

I LOVE SPOON!!!I'm currently in the middle of an intense affair with spoon, in fact, i rebounded like a motherfucker with them and britt's been there for me when I've been all weepy. He told me that I'm okay, I can still be in love and circumstances can suck, but it's eventually alright because we have the music! Spoon's kind of turning me into a mopey alt-rock version of Hope Davis in Next Stop Wonderland, and I love it. And when I need it, Spoon will just hold me. Our love is kind of special, intense, and it varies.

Ben Folds Five were my best friends in high school. They were my secret, they were my lifeline, but then Ben started having issues. By the time Reinhold Messsmer came out, Ben was having a midlife crisis. And goddammit, I wasn't going there with them. So we broke up. It was just going nowhere. I miss them, now and again, but I've moved on.

Jeff Buckley was my first love. He taught me that senstive boys can love girls oh so beautifully, and don't settle for anything less.

Afghan Whigs are my nasty love. Oh, Greg Dulli and I are so self destructive, we fight and we yell and he drinks too much, but the hot hot sex makes up for it. Sheesh, now I'm blushing.

Jennifer Nettles likes to show up at my place slightly drunk. In bed we drink a little more, and she plays the harmonica for me and tells me funny stories and rolls out of bed in the morning with me left behind all sore and exhausted and grateful.

Michael Hutchence looked my way once, but I was too young, and by the time I was all grown up and understood what that look meant, it was too late.

No Doubt flirted with me and turned out to have nothing else to offer.

I go out dancing with the Squirrel Nut Zippers. That's us, all sweaty in the mdidle of the dance floor. When it gets late we retire to the back with Jack Daniel's and the guys get out their banjos and Katherine Whalen makes up songs off the top of her head.

Cornershop said they'd call a while back. I'm still waiting.

Marc Lavoine is my secret moody French lover. Every time I go over there, we have French sex and he smokes and pouts and we fight and I swear I won't listen to Etienne Daho anymore. Then we make out artfully in the Metro and he calls me "Zazie" and is all pleased when I get the joke.

Stephin Merritt hangs with my best friend and sometimes can't be bothered to remember my name. In return, I stalk him.

David Gray basically interviewed my boyfriend, wrote a song based on the results, titled it "Sail Away," and sent it to me; not knowing what it was, I listened to it at work and broke down crying.

I will, on occassion, have a little fling with John Mellencamp. I make him wear his FFA jacket and sing to me about Jack and Diane and little pink houses and life going on, long after the thrill is gone. John knows what it is like to outlive your youth. We sit around, smoke cigarettes and think about what we used to be. It really is a relationship based on nostalgia.

SP

there are more to speak of, but, later, pet, later.

Erasure was my gay high school boyfriend. A blast to hang out with, and a great friend, but I was a fool. I still think about the old days now and then, though.

When I hang out with Tool, I wonder if I should act my age and just go home and sit on the couch with NIN, but I can't stop myself from going back. Tool never kisses me, though.

The Pagan Saints are a little more thoughtful than that - instead of getting me drunk, they want me to talk about my problems. They know what life is like, and they can get me out of my moods. They get pretty emotional sometimes, but it's all right.

David Bowie wants me to put my leather pants on, get glittered up, and go out clubbing with him every night. I can't argue with that. He likes to get a little scary sometimes, but he doesn't mean anything by it.

Dream Theater wants to blow my mind. They overdo it a little sometimes, but I love them anyways.

KMFDM and I have an ongoing one night stand kind of thing. They promise only to sing "Disgust," and I promise to do anything they ask. Anything. Nitzer Ebb heard about how easy I was, and now we've got a similar thing going on with "Murderous."

Mike Ireland comes by my house after his bad breakups and we get drunk and cry together. Despite many attempts, I've never gotten him in bed with me.

Neko Case and I have pedicure parties, and then we eat toast together in our pajamas. Sometimes she sings "Duchess," which she knows will force me to profess my mad love for her. That's as far as this relationship has gone, but I'm hoping for more.

Roxy Music and I have been in love since high school. We drink icy cold vodka, have an hours-long grinding make-out session, and then do it over and over to "In Every Dream Home a Heartache." Sometimes we throw on Flesh and Blood for a little variety.

Now I have to go listen to all these records.

CaseK

Elliott Smith comes over to my house late at night, drunk and shaky, smelling like cigarettes and desperation. We sit in my room in the dark, and I hold his hands to keep him from scratching welts in his body. He whispers to me about his broken heart, his broken body, his broken dreams. Sometimes a tear slips down his face, and he'll rub his cheek against his shoulder to wipe it off. He tries to tell me that things will get better, that something has got to change. But I know better. I know better. After he's too tired to talk anymore, I tuck his frail body into bed and spend the rest of the night just stroking his hair.

Sleater-Kinney and I get drunk on whiskey every Tuesday night.

mary timony and early helium and i have this great relationship. she comes over and we dress all sexy and go out dancing and all the boys want to go home with us but we just tease them. then we sit around and act all bored and sexy and paint each other's nails. it's a great relationship and sometimes we read mary daly, drink a little wine, and have our own salons.

wait, that feels weird because i've actually met mary timony and she's cool, but whatever.

Pulp is the really creative, geeky boy that you can't help loving even though you know he has serious issues because he's so sweet and smart and funny. You just know you'll love him forever. We sit in bed just talking about everything.

Ani is the the girl who I love madly and who I rely on to get me into ass-kicking mode. She's the one I go to for a self-esteem boost and who never lets me down.

The Ramones are my current crush who I'm getting quite obsessed with, but I think it might turn into something more serious.

Stone Roses are the boy who you know is wrong for you, and is going to cause so many problems, but you don't care because when you're together you just feel so good.

They started off as the cute, unattainable, much older guy you see at the local coffeehouse or bookstore when you're still a giggling teen. Then you find out he writes something -- poetry, articles, something -- and you horde copies of everything he's ever written and memorize it and marvel that this beautiful, older, unattainable boy is so SMART, so BRILLIANT, so SENSITIVE! Secretly, you write his name in your journal over and over, write your name with his last name, make lists of children's names, and knnow that someday, when you're ready, you'll approach him and he'll be bowled over with love for you because you love HIM soooooo much. Chastely, you imagine kissing him, and just the thought makes your face hot and your breath shallow.

Then you go away to college for a year and come back and realize that, yeah, he's still cute... and a good writer and all... but he's HUMAN, man. Your journal makes you blush. You pick up his latest poem in the local literary journal and plot to meet him, ask him all sorts of Deep and Intellectual Questions... and then fuck him silly.

All your friends think you're a total dork to still be crushing on him, but you don't care. His new hair looks dumb and his latest poem is trying too hard, but you still think he's hot. Even if he doesn't know you exist.

And then you finally meet him. And discover he's a total tool. You find out that he chews his toenails and scratches his ass in public and calls his mother "Ma!" like it has three syllables. But you still like his poetry. And he's still pretty cute. He makes you laugh. His attitude challenges you and you like arguing with him. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles can get you every time... and then he'll say something stupid and you'll slug him on the arm and tell him he's a dork.

And then, after years of knowing him, it finally happens. He flirts with you for five minutes, knows he has you, and proceeds to maul you, kneeding your breasts like they're those squeezy-anti-stress balls, jamming his tongue down your throat and dry-humping you. And you figure "what the heck, I've always been curious" so you reach for his junk- and he slams your head down groaning "Oh yeah, baby," comes in 30 seconds, zips up and announces "Good, huh? Well, I gotta go." And you're feeling all cheapened and disillusioned and you're hopelessly depressed for a little while... but despite yourself, you still like all that poetry.

So you slip into something comfy, go with a couple of your friends to laugh at what a dink this guy is, admire the writing, and pretend not to notice if he tries really hard to get your attention. That's the fun part. But if he cuts you first... it still hurts deep down. It really does.

Every so often, I hop in my 6th-hand VW and drive around to pick up all my New Wave friends. We cruise around LA, hang out at Tower Records, eat cheese fries at Mel's, and delight in sighing that kids today just ain't as cool as when WE were in high school.

Sometimes late at night, Leonard Cohen approaches slowly and caresses my neck with his fingertips. That's all he has to do.

a-ha comes over at night with a bottle of wine and we have exhillerating, intellectual and philosophical discussions. Sometimes we drive to the beach and build sand castles in the dark.

I'm still friends with the Spice Girls, even though no one else likes to hang out with them. Their antics're getting old, but it's still fun to go to the mall and steal candy samples at The Sweet Factory with them every so often.

I follow Billie Holliday around and stare at her a lot. She prolly doesn't notice me, but I don't care. It's enough just to be in the same room.

Ben Folds Five is my hilarious and really smart best friend who I have a big crush on and with whom I awkwardly fool around when we're both drunk.

Sometimes, when They Might Be Giants is away on tour, I have this cute little fling with the 5 lads of Moxy Fruvous. We never actually do anything naughty, but they like to tickle me and engage me in discussions about Canadian political issues.

Nirvana was my first love, the beautiful moody destructive boy. When we're together, it's awesome, but he always leaves. I have an inferiority complex around him, anyway; I never felt cool enough.

Sleater-Kinney found me crying after one of my break-ups with Nirvana. I had always admired her from afar, but she took me under her sleeve, and introduced me to the other cool girls. We're best buds. We'll go a while without seeing each other, but when we meet again it's like no time has passed.

Fiona Apple is my on-and-off-again affair. For a few weeks, she'll be my one and only, but then she'll do something incredibly stupid or annoying and we'll break it off. And something will happen, and she's irrestible.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers take me to Venice Beach and make me wear little bikini's and rollarskates. They like to show me off almost to the point of embarrasment. Then they take me home, we shower off the beach sand, then get dirty all over again - complete with the whip cream and chocolate. When I wake up - they left me a note with a seashell next to it that I never saw them pick up yesterday. I don't hear from them often enough, but somehow that is part of the charm.

Jane's Addiction got me hooked on heroin and peyote and left me when I needed them most. But those times were the craziest, weirdest times of my life - the times I can remember anyway. Something having to do with a Perry, Casey and a chicken... I don't remember the rest. But Dave would fuck like a demon, then hold me tight after his orgasm and cry into my hair until he fell asleep.

Someone mentioned Leonard Cohen and the neck rub..... I understand.

The "Friday" soundtrack brings out the thug in me. We sit on the porch and drink 40's and do stupid thug things. It's very predictable, but thrilling none the less to see how the other half lives. I love that they never treat me like the token white girl. I am just one of the hommies.

Dead Can Dance takes me to weird cultural shows and make me watch foreign films. I suspect they like to talk about things that are over my head to show how smart they are, but then they do that little belly dance thing and I just go nuts. I do suspect there is a little voodoo or druid action in there though, so I am a little scared to ever piss them off. Don't need a curse on my ass.

Peter Gabriel was kinda like Dead Can Dance at first - even though he was first. But I stuck with him because I figured I could learn something - but then when "Us" came out I realized it was me teaching him that it was OK to cry and scream and be hurt. It was OK to come to me and be human, and boy did he ever get human. But I think he outgrew me, or I outgrew him... we don;t talk much anymore. Probably because we spent alot of shitty times together holding each other up, and when we see each other it is bittersweet nostalgia - more bitter than sweet. But there is still lots of love there.

The Cure was the type I'd want to put on dark lipstick with; draw each other's faces till we hurt and jump around on bed's and giggle. dance in oceans though I can't swim. twirl and twirl till it all would come down to a hushed depressing halt. holding each other in the dark, a thunderstorm looming overhead, I'd hear hushed tones about love and yesterday.

Radiohead is difficult to explain. that voice. the robots. the computers. the electricity. electric. bounce bounce. still bouncing. buzzz...

Belle and Sebastian will paint pictures with me and get me to relax when things seem bad.

Live brought me through many times with my best friend and in car rides and in the dark over and over again next to the computer when I thought no one was around. brought a smile and a tear to my face.

Fiona Apple is the only one I've ever felt like writing poetry about. She's also the only one who ever read it and made me feel like my poetry could be any good. Hers, of course, is wonderful, and she has this cute way of looking up at me all embarassed yet knowing it's true every time I pay her a compliment.
Not everyone understands her, though, so I keep having to defend her to my friends, showing how if you really knew her, everything that she does that could be interpreted badly is actually due to the fucked-up relationship she had three guys before me. I hate that guy with a passion, and she says she does, but I think she'd run back to him in a second if she could.

The Cardigans and I had a fling in Europe. We tried to make it long-distance, but that didn't work, so we settled for an email-based friendship. I used to call them every few weeks, but recently, they haven't been returning my emails, and I'm sad, but if I ever went back I know that as soon as they opened the door everything would feel the same, just older.

Bjork and I have never been single at the same time, but I've always hoped that if we were we'd end up together. She lives nearby, and we occasionally go out together, but not as much as we should do considering how much fun I think we have. I'm secretly worried that she doesn't enjoy my company nearly as much as I enjoy hers, because I always call her up and invite her to things. She comes, though, so that's a good sign, right?

Juliana Hatfield and I met young, and tried it for a week, but we were too like siblings to make it work. She's the sister I never had; sometimes, when we go out, we tell people we are actually brother and sister, and they always believe us.

I fell hard for Jill Sobule, and she for me. We could go out together, but remain nearly inseparable. We spent just as much time lying together and talking as we did in actual sex. It ended slowly, over time, and we both tried to over-compensate by moving in together, but that just meant the break-up was accompanied by lots of cardboard boxes.
It's been a couple of years now, and after a few awkward run-ins, we're actual friends. There's always going to be that tension, but people no longer have to mutter, 'He can't come, She'll be there!'

Destiny's Child and I have done it in the toilets at clubs. Twice. Afterwards, I feel guilty, and they go off and dance like crazy on the dancefloor, leaving me to walk past as if we hadn't just been swapping bodily fluids a minute before.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat, though.

I have a major crush on Rufus Wainwright, and have told all my friends. I feel it every time he walks into a room, and before, when he was just 'some guy', I could fairly comfortably chat to him. Now, I get all anxious and can barely walk near him, I'm so nervous.
He barely knows who I am - enough to know he's met be before, but that's it. He probably thinks I'm that stupid kid with a crush, and that makes me feel even worse, but I still can't help but moon over him, garnering sympathy from my friends, and wait to either get over him or actually screw the courage up to talk to him about everything.

I'm in love with Erykah Badu, but I'm not her type.

Frente and I used to have so much in common, it was scary. Then they changed their hair colour, their interests, and their name. We still hang, because you can't just erase the closeness we had, but Splendid is a different person, and tends to put me in the category of 'things of the past'.

Sheryl Crow is my mate. I've known her too long to think of her in 'that way', but she's always good to come home to. She spends a lot of time on the road, though, and isn't the best at telling me when she will or will not be home.

Chris Isaak kept touching me at odd moments, and flirted with me all night, until I felt like I was a pretzel, ready to be sucked and then eaten.
Then he went home with someone else. The bastard. But I can't help but let him cozy up to me, and when he asks for that favour, I can tease him about the fact that he knows he's using me - though I'll still help him out.

Edited because Destiny's Child and pretentious euphemisms for sex don't go together.

And I sniffed, haughtily, "Whatever. Yellow sounds like Dave Matthews if he could sing."

Then, I heard Shiver, and I realized that Coldplay wasn't a bunch of slutty brits. They're adorable, sincere guys who believe in true wuv and they've got the radiohead circa the bends guitar and occasional jeff buckley like falsetto to back it up.

Fiona Apple uses me as an anger fuck whenever her boyfriend pisses her off. She bad mouths him while we drink martini’s and watch The Sopranos and before we know it we’re on the floor getting rug burns. She bites my neck and leaves scratch marks on my back and afterwards takes off wearing my gray sweatshirt. When I ask her out a few days later she says “I’d like to, but, you know, I’m back with my boyfriend.”

For awhile I thought Sheryl Crow would be the one. We would talk, really talk, and take long walks beside the river holding hands. We never got into arguments and always knew what the other was thinking. Eventually we decided that we were better off as friends. We still are to this day.

I ran into Tool at a concert. Someone passed around a doobie and before long we were making out at the edge of the mosh pit. I didn’t mean to go as far as we did, but I was driven by the heat, sweat, and naked flesh. We saw each other a few times after that, but it soon got to weird to sustain. I still see Tool at parties and get jealous when I see them with someone else.

The Violent Femmes and I are all about fun. We drink a little too much tequilla and dance around until our voices are hoarse, are knees are weak, and the room won't stand still. They hold my hair when I puke, and I make the strong coffee with the hair of the dog the morning after.

Weezer are my best friends. I tell them everything and they give me advice like "well.. it shouldn't be that important" and it puts things in perspective. We have fun little escapades that I never ever regret, even when I should.

I stalk Tori Amos. And she likes it.