This month’s Hot Science-y Guy really sucks. Okay, James Dyson doesn’t suck, but his inventions sure as heck do. Just ask my friend, Bob, who recently purchased the Dyson Animal Model No. I-Don’t-Know−Exactly-but-It’s-a-Lovely-Shade-of-Purple.

And boy-oh-boy! I sure would like one of these bad boys for myself. And this time, when I say “bad boy”, I don’t mean that in my usual way (see previous “Sparky” references). I mean I really want one of Mr. Dyson’s vacuums! Vacuuming is something I really like doing in the way of household chores. There’s a lot of bang-for-your-buck with vacuuming. It’s a mild workout, sort of like mowing the lawn indoors, and you get to see immediate results – especially if you don’t do it for a few months and eat a lot of chips and crackers and Top Ramen straight out of the package. And while the Swiffer Carpet Flick is truly a must-have (as are most things in the Swiffer line of home maintenance – trust me!), I dream of one day owning a Dyson.

I first became acquainted with this fabulous appliance at last year’s Interior Design Show. There I was on Trade Day, scarf-tossing with the best of them, when I noticed my dear friend, Bob, was missing from my side. Was he mesmerized by a supplier of indoor water features (always a big draw) or grabbing an $8.75 plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich? No! He had stopped to watch a demo at the Dyson booth. I was gobsmacked. Having just purchased a new house, Bob was supposed to be on the lookout for reasonably-priced cork flooring and closet organizers – not a vacuum cleaner. But there he was, a rapt one-man audience far away from the cork floor and closet exhibits, listening in earnest to a middle-aged Dyson Toronto Representative pouring her honey-sweet palaver into his captive earhole. I thought at first that he was just trapped into habitual politeness and was, perhaps, hoping I’d arrive to pull him away – but not so. Ms. Dyson Rep was not your usual Electrolux yammerer. Ms. Dyson Rep was into her thing! And how could she be otherwise? Dyson vacuums rock! No bags. No suction-loss. Easy disposal of sucked-up crap. Awesome hose extension. Etc., etc. Listen, you don’t need me to sell you on the fine points of an iPod or a PlayStation or a 50″ plasma television. They’re all lovely things to have and covet and steal if you can get away with it. But, me, I am so saving up for a Dyson vacuum.

And as for Mr. Dyson himself, he’s certainly not an unattractive. That finely-polished Brit accent of his is as smooth and lush as Bob’s newly-installed cherry hardwood flooring. Plus, it would seem, for all his multi-multi-millions of pounds sterling and super-engineering science-y know-how, Mr. Dyson actually helps out around the mansion with the day-to-day clean-up.

Word to Mrs. James Dyson: You lucky woman, you – you’ve got a hot one!

Something a little different this time, people. This month’s Hot Science-y Guy of the Month isn’t a guy (as if you need me to tell you that). But she is hot (like en fuego-y and muy caliente hot). And she’s very science-y. So in the words of the beloved rock-icon-named-after-a-comfort food, Meatloaf, two outta three ain’t bad. And when you’re Nuvia Crisol Guerra, that’s the total opposite of bad!

Nuvia Crisol Guerra. Okay, that’s just a hot name right there. Nuvia. Nuvia. Like she’s a supermodel or a sports car. I’d never heard of a Nuvia before this Nuvia. I even tried looking up the name on babynamesworld.com and there’s no listing for it. Which isn’t surprising, really. She’s definitely one-of-a-kind and her parents clearly knew what they were doing when they named her Nuvia instead of Steve or Brian.

When Nuvia isn’t going around just being all hot and science-y as a molecular biologist in San Diego, she travels all over being hot and artsy. That’s right – she’s got her feet firmly planted in the worlds of both the nerds and the flakes – but when your legs are as long as Nuvia’s, that’s easily done. (See more of Nuvia’s artwork here, here, here and here. Please note that I can neither confirm nor deny that the legs in the paintings are hand-rendered facsimiles of the painter’s.)

Oh, and here’s another thing that’s a little different this month, folks. I’ve actually met this person! I can personally vouch for her real-life hotness and science-y-ness, and she wears this really nicely-scented body cream, and she bought me the first and only authentic tamale this Toronto-girl has ever had.

So ladies, don’t hate Nuvia Crisol Guerra because she’s beautiful. But by all means feel free to hate Nuvia Crisol Guerra because she’s ultra-brainy and super-talented and funny and kind and smells good and has a super-talented wonderful boyfriend who truly adores her with every fibre of his gifted being. (He’s not so science-y, but he does do stuff like this.

Okay, so do we all feel like crap now? Well, I do. So in lieu of a big bag of chips and a hot fudge sundae for everyone, here’s a picture of Sparky, the smokin’ hot In A Fix electrician:

There now – don’t we all feel better?

Check this out! Canada’s own Jay Ingram’s got the posing-with-the-hand-thing going on!

Now, it’s not so rakish a pose as naughty Nikola Tesla (see last Hot Science-y Guy installment), but it’s there, oh yes! So, you know what that means?

Jay Ingram is hot, too.

Well he is. Seriously. Okay, so maybe not so much in the accompanying photo (which, I confess, I shamelessly snatched from here where [you will surely notice] Jay Ingram is the only science-y guy on the page with his hand in his headshot). So I encourage you to run along and Google™ another photo – a recent one – and you’ll see what I mean. Okay, so he’s not the jogging-on-the-beach-in-slow-motion kind of hot, but he’s just so darn likeable. Here is one guy who should run for public office. I mean, who doesn’t like Jay Ingram?

So while I am steadfastly un-curious to witness Jay Ingram doing ads for Calvin Klein boxer briefs (not like with Sparky, the In a Fix electrician – and that was only because I actually saw a picture of Sparky, the In a Fix electrician in his underwear, and no, I do not want to argue about what’s real and what’s computer-enhanced because, really, that’s so completely irrelevant to me because I love the In a Fix electrician for his mind anyway), I think Jay Ingram would be fun to have over for some beers and a movie. You’d let him pick the movie, and he’d pick a really good one, like…I don’t know, but it would be good. Witty, but not cutely clever. Maybe some early Woody Allen. Maybe even an edgy documentary. Maybe you’d grill a couple of steaks on the barbecue. Jay Ingram would tell you about eighteen amazing science news stories while he barbecued the steaks, and when he was finished, they would be perfectly cooked because he truly understands the molecular intricacies of heat and protein. You’d make baked potatoes and a salad. Maybe some asparagus. Dessert would be something light, maybe just some cheese, a buttery Cambozola, perhaps? Conversation would be effortless and spiced with Jay Ingram’s own brand of wry humour. And then Jay Ingram would help you clean up afterward and then apologize that he really has to leave early because he’d have to go home and work on some endlessly fascinating piece of science writing. You’d do a small load of laundry. And you’d know that Jay Ingram would call you the next day to say thanks for a really nice evening and thanks for the loan of your Andrea Barrett book before you’d even had a chance to read it yourself.

And as you folded your small load of laundry later that night, you’d think “Gee, that Jay Ingram is such a nice man! Too bad I just can’t help but fall for the bad boys…” And you’d pour yourself a tawny port and finish up the Cambozola and gaze out the window and picture yourself lounging around some hotel pool in Vegas with Sparky, the In a Fix electrician.

And as quickly as it had begun, it would be over. But Jay Ingram would be extra cool about things, because not only is Jay Ingram a nice Hot Science-y Guy, he’s a spooky smart Hot Science-y Guy, and so Jay Ingram would understand. You don’t believe me? Check out that photo once again, folks. See those eyes probing deep into the dark recesses of your soul?

Jay Ingram understands everything.

His eponymous coils aren’t the only thing that created a buzz and a sizzle! So he’s been dead since 1943. Minor detail. Nikola Tesla was one helluva hot ticket in his time and no doubt he was well aware of it, too. No matter what the fashion of the day, guys just don’t strike a pose like the one in the accompanying photo unless they know they have got it goin’ awwn.

Now don’t let that seductive, come-hither stare fool you. He’s not playing coy, no matter what you think those bedroom eyes might be suggesting, so stay in your seat and keep your hands to yourself. An unapologetic germaphobe, the last thing in the world he would have wanted was a kiss! Yuck!

But he was quite the Mr. Smarty-pants, even if a lot of his science “buddies” considered him and his ideas more than a wee bit daft (that’s a euphemism for “crackpot”). So he said he could split the Earth in two and shoot down airplanes with death rays. Who hasn’t heard the rest of the boys at the local talking themselves up with such tripe now and again? Puh-leeze! Thing is, this Tesla guy could actually do it. Go ahead and google “HAARP”. Pretty impressive, huh?

Hard to believe he had a reputation for not getting along with his contemporaries – then again, one of the Negative Nellies was none other than Thomas Edison himself – a guy who wasn’t exactly going to win any congeniality prizes of his own. Sounds a bit like sour grapes, if you ask me. Can’t imagine it would feel too great to be Mr. Big Time Inventor and have some young upstart constantly offering suggestions on how to improve your stuff (and having those suggestions turn out to be good ones; haha, in your face, Tommy!)

Nikky-boy did enjoy the good life, however, and had a regular table at the Waldorf-Astoria. So here’s this dapper dude who would take you out for a grand meal, polish your silverware about twelve times with his requisite eighteen napkins, load you up with gin cobblers and fascinating conversation, and then send you home with your virtue intact. Gentleman? or weirdo? Oh, who cares! Just relax and sip your cocktail like a good girl – especially if you have any designs on wanting to catch a glimpse of seeing his fabulous lab. And trust me, I think you do. Maybe he’ll read you one of his poems by the light of one of his plasma spheres. Yep, he liked to write in his spare time.

Just try not to get too attached. He’s not for you. Don’t take it personally. Marriage just isn’t his bag, baby. He’s the classic loner. The mad genius. And he’s lousy with money. And a workaholic who never calls…

But that just makes you want him all the more, doesn’t it?

Aw heck, it’s nearly Labour Day, so let’s just call this lovely man the Hot Science-y Guy of the Summer and be done with it. Now I doubt if he’s going to include that on his updated résumé, but one thing I am willing to bet on is that Kaysar Ridha would prefer not to be remembered as The Guy Who Took His Finger Off the Button on Big Brother 6 ^TM; therefore I am not even going to mention the fact that he’s the guy who…well, let’s just say the end of the season came tragically early for the feed junkies viewers who voted His Royal Decency back into the Big Brother House of Mental Freaks, only to see his fresh, juicy brain evicted for a second time before he’d even had a chance to unpack. Personally, I’m glad he and his lethal handsomosity have been shown the door on that silly show; now millions of women people can get back to their jobs and deadlines. It’s all fun and games until some poor Canadian girl (stop looking at me like that) loses an entire short-lived summer being “entertained” by caged strangers.

Oh, right. The science-y part. Here it is: Mr. Ridha’s BB6 profile says he’s currently a graphic designer, but a little web-stalking sleuthing uncovers a background in biological sciences. Here’s hoping he might just expand on that knowledge and discover what it takes to clone himself, because if he’s selling, I’m pre-ordering. The world needs more Kaysar Ridhas. Lots more. And for all the rest of you hookah-smoking, chess players out there, you can come out of the basement; you’re hotter than you think.

(Just don’t think about the fact that Alan Alda once portrayed this man in a play. Trust me. It strips all the hotness right out of the fantasy.)