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Claudia Dey is photographed at the Globe and Mail's Toronto studio on September 21, 2010. (Andrew Norman/Globe and Mail) (Andrew Norman/The Globe and Mail)
Claudia Dey is photographed at the Globe and Mail's Toronto studio on September 21, 2010. (Andrew Norman/Globe and Mail) (Andrew Norman/The Globe and Mail)

Meet your babe's sexiest organ Add to ...

Aside from your babe's Joan Holloway breasts, her Joan Holloway kit, her Joan Holloway pout, her Joan Holloway mane, and her Joan Holloway slink, your babe's brain was clearly her main attraction. You see it at work constantly: at the breakfast table, speeding through the New York Times crossword puzzle while you toss out irreverent and ill-fitting suggestions; calculating the mortgage while you hover adorably; weighing Kant versus Hegel while you listen intently to her cleavage; replaying the pass she dropped in overtime while you imagine her naked on a pony.

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But Bush Pilots, what you may not know is this: Like your brain (represent!), your babe's brain continues to function when you are busy under your bison throw. The question: Is her brain working for or against you? And do you have a say in the matter - the grey matter, that is?

You see, Bush Pilots, while you will find your babe's cerebellum firmly located above her plunging neckline and under her crop of rivulet-like red hair, you will also find it roaming the rest of her lush countryside, either kicking up or striking out her sensual life. Despite your ability to make her beer bottle levitate, your babe's brain, not your tricks, is the kingpin here. If it is not convinced of your skill and loyalty, it will take you out.

Think of it as that elegant menace, the drug lord's very buff and stern deputy, Stringer Bell from HBO's The Wire, sitting in a locked room on the top floor of a strip club, deciding how much sensation goes where, and when. Stringer is counting the money. Stringer is wearing the reading glasses. Stringer is ordering the hits. Stringer is handing out the promotions. It may be all G-strings and pasties and "Use Me" below, but upstairs, if Stringer thinks you're a snitch, he will, after he finishes his Campari, make you disappear. So how, Bush Pilots, can you coax your babe out of her brain and into her Joan Holloway body? Or more to the point, how can you recruit her brain, make it boss and make you family?

Just as you picture yourself mounting The Body in her angel wings backstage at the Victoria's Secret show, your babe's desire can also be cultivated. It can be courted; alongside the other things that make your babe tingle, it can be left offerings at the door - e.g., handcuffs, a cat mask, and Samuel L. Jackson. The operative word here is fantasy.

Your babe's fantasies are incendiary, even when you are not in them.

Um, what does this mean for me, Mistress? My darlings, you must simply ensure your babe's fantasies (however demented, however Spartan) have the space to course through her mind - and, successively, her lady parts. Yes, Bush Pilots, your searing tackle, your man musk and your football pants are all persuasive in the desire department - thank you for those - but your real hard sell? Your babe's brain. Whether your doing or hers, it must be set off too.

Abridged excerpt from: How to Be a Bush Pilot published in Canada by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. Copyright 2010 by Claudia Dey. All rights reserved.

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