i love all the crap that’s on tv this time of year. love to hate it, morelike. much more music’s top 40 fabulous lifestyles of celebrities. annoying. they throw in there some tips from l’il john to boot. yah thanks for the crunkiest crunked-out fucker ever, telling me how to wear sunglasses.

anyway.

i went to the coffeeshop wearing my boots that i half-assedly laced up, half for the sake of fashion and half for the sake of laziness, and lemme tell you this, when you have big tall boots that have a trillion buckles and holes for the laces, USE THEM.

i was all walking and shit and checking myself out in the window reflections and the boots catch on each other and the left one came undone and by the time i made it to the door of the coffeeshop the left one looked like a miserable pathetic loser of a boot and i felt, stupid.

the cat smacked me in the head yesterday when i left the apt. with my brother because he gets mad when you leave and i was like PSHHHHHHAW!?

i felt a bit flattered, to be honest.

how was you’s guys’s holidays so far?

oh yeh.

fil hung a tree from the ceiling upside down last nite. the tree is 3/4 the size of a football, however. you don’t really notice it because of all the faggoty balloons that are still everywhere. i gave my dad that drawing of squee i did and he said who/what is this so i can tell everyone at work about my original raymitheminx art and i said he is the little boy neighbour to johnny the homicidal maniac and his name is squee and my dad said riiiiiiiight like i was a martian (which i am) but i knew that it made him feel all cool that he has a strange eccentric daughter who draws him crap and he has to put it up on his walls and treat it like it is gold.

and all the other kids draw pictures of rainbows and flowers.

gay.

though, they are 5 or something.

still, that’s no excuse.

Dear Raymi,

I’m a big fan of yours. Thought you could put this on your site:

There I was just walking along Yonge Street on a blustery winter’s day.

Christmas shoppers everywhere running in hot pursuit of red tags like

squirrels fighting over nuts.

Only two blocks from home where warmth and a hot chocolate awaited when an

incident occurred that changed my city view.

Halfway across a major intersection, I stumbled on the ice and fell face

forward onto the frozen pavement, my left knee taking the brunt of the pain.

People all around me trudged on by ignoring my screams of agony. No one

stopped to ask if I was ok, no one offered a hand. As the flashing hand of

the streetlight began its blinking warning I brushed myself off and rose.

Limping my way toward the sidewalk I hit a crack in the ice and keeled over

again. This time a man was right beside me, and when I say right beside me

I mean within make-out distance, and when he saw me go down he averted his

eyes and scurried on his way. I made it to the sidewalk feeling like a

leper. I followed the man who had pretended not to see me slip. No I’m not

a stalker, but as it turns out he was heading to my building. Guess he read

that commandment: Help thy neighbour unless of course they have the

misfortune of being a stranger in need.

I related the story of my double fall to the security guard at the front

desk. She listened kindly, told me that she laughed when she saw someone

fall on the ice the other day, and wished me a happy holiday. I lived in

the burbs up until this past year where people actually say hello to each

other wen walking their dogs or picnicking in the park. What’s up 416?

that story makes me angry

toronto people are assholes

too bad yer legs were all messed up and u couldnt run after the guy

ill put this on le blog

happy holidays anyhow daniela

next time sue the city for not putting enough salt on the sidewalks

xo

raymi

fil adopted me a wolf for christmas!

holy cute! so one less wolf is going to be slaughtered and made into a teepee and now i own a wolf!

fucking cool!

also

i now own napoleon dynamite and a blythe wallet and slippers and a jacket and later i’m going to my nana’s and she got me for kris kringle so this means i will prolly get a sweater that is fluorescent yellow with stop signs and tornadoes on it.

oh no wait. i told her to get me a gift certificate for chapters.

yay me.

i bought my cousin the new douglas coupland book and i forgot to read it first. meh. i also got him some book about all the evilest people in history.

very festive.

fil went over to his parents’ and i am here with the cat and the cat just made a sigh. once my brother gets his crap together he’s swinging by and then we go to nana’s/papa’s for hours of amusing dysfunction.

i swear if my nana calls me fat again i’m gonig to be not pleased.

for christmas i got my period.

!!!

happy festivus.

today is going to be a long and sober one.

df;gohfds;garheg”4ewgjes’jsdv

f to that. i’m starting now.

oh, aimee emailed and is homesick and the only time she feels not lonely is when everybody is asleep and she can be alone with the liquor cabinet.

we’ve all decided that after new year’s we’re not drinking.

my anorexia figure is all gone now.

i hate looking at my body again. i just want to wear blankets and dumpy sweaters and speak swedish, i dunno.

yesterday i met two lesbos after dinner, over dessert. one is alex’s cousin. and i said, fil, the only thing i can think about is them doing it and he is like yah, me too. and i kept looking at one of them from across the table and everytime we made eye contact i thought, ok, she knows what i am thinking about, i have to get out of here. so i went to the bathroom with my wine and then stayed in the other room or on the porch smoking until they left.

im already annoyed and so over christmas and it’s not even christmas.

i got some nice boots and other things i forget already.

gifts aren’t the important part anyway.

it’s the insults and being around one another and eating festive pizza from little caesar’s and doing laundry and the cat going mental over catnip sockmice and the christmas cards falling into the gas fireplace off of the mantel and then trying to learn how to play backgammon again.

oh and making a popsicle stick ballerina that is suppose to be a puppet.

and then tomorrow you do it again at the place where there are other people that you are related to.

aimee come back we miss you.

happy holidays everybody.

when people run out of ways of getting attention, they start lying.

they make up these ridiculous stories all of the time and you sit there going ya, uh huh, yaaa, and you are like, yo guy, you know that i know that what you are saying is utter bullshit and not at all believable, right?

and then the guy gets super-ass defensive all scary angry at you and has to find someone in the room to back up his tall-tale so he brings someone back who heard the story a year ago and the guy goes see this is jack, jack knows, jack was there so it happened, yo! and jack nods his head all out of it and bored and disappears and because you don’t want to make waves you act like you believe the fable and go back to thinking about lipstick and tennis rackets and then the fucker has to ruin your time all over again by saying another lie because his lie-o-meter is set to full now, thanks to jack.

and so Dr. liarface gets all into lying again and by now you have zero patience for the shit but it’s ok because liar doesn’t notice at all because he is so into fabricating this version of the same lie he always tells that it doesn’t matter if you are listening or not so then because you are a callous asshole, you turn to liefuck and say, hey liefuck, maybe if you got a job, perhaps you wouldn’t have to make up all this non-existant crap all of the time and then you would actually be interesting. how about that?

but because liar’s entire life is one big fantasy it is not possible for him to change.

so you should probably avoid him.

‘cept for when yer bored in the bar and feel like hearing about on-fire unicorns with machine guns duct-taped to their heads.

and i think we all agree that the BEST is when some guy tells a story that happened to him but it’s actually a story that happened to you and you told him about it a year ago and then you get to see with your very own eyes that this douchebag rips you off MAJOR! and you think, fucker, he probably tells all of my stories. i am SO not ever telling a story to him EVER AGAIN and then you look around the room at everybody looking at douchebag standing up telling YOUR story to them and the looks on their faces are like, wow, he is FINALLY saying something interesting and some people are actually LAUGHING and SMILING and your blood starts to boil and the veins in your forehead begin to pulse and your eyes get all squinty-mad and douchebag story stealer makes eye-contact with you and he swallows loud, all nervous-like ‘cos he forgot that you were at his social gathering and now he is FUCKING BUSTED and he is so scared that he stops telling the story, not altogether, he just kinda pauses.

and then dennis goes, come on, GO ON, what happens next?

and martha goes, ya! tell us!

and then you say, ya douchebag! tell us what happens next, please do go on, i can’t possibly wait to hear all about your trip to China.

and then Sally says, hey, didn’t YOU go to China too!?

and that’s when shit hits the fan and lying douchebag is exposed and when you leave his shoddy apartment of lies, you help yourself to a couple unopened bags of potato chips and a knick-knack or two.

paige wants a party.

over-hearing young people’s conversations fills me with rage.

it makes me want to smoke cigarettes and scowl from up in a tree and tape record everything i hear from a cute little microphone that i dangle inconspicuously from the branches and once the word like is used more than 30 times, i am allowed to make shit fall out of the tree on top of all the young people and i jump out like a superstar and exclaim THIS AMBUSH IS FOR THE WORD “LIKE” AND MAY YOU FROM HERE ON FORTH USE IT ONLY IF YOU ARE IN ENGLISH CLASS AND YOUR TEACHER IS TELLING YOU TO WRITE A SIMILE!!! BLAAAAAAAAAK!

and then all these cats that know how to walk on their hind legs show up and are all snotty to the young people and then the young people leave town forever except for little girls who are maybe 6 years old, they can stay because i like it when they look at my cat ears winter hat and roll their eyes and then go to school on monday and tell their best friend sarah that they saw a teenager wearing the dumbest hat ever and then sarah says, WHATEVER! MY BROTHER IS GAY! TOP THAT!

does anyone want to buy this? i am getting tired of looking at it.

Dear Raymi,

This is an early valentine for you cause you’re probably the coolest chick

ever.

You have most dudes by the balls, most girls by the heart and fucking

everyone by their tongues.

Please don’t stop writing.

Much love,

Maggie

thanks maggie. that was the best valentine because it was a picture of some nerdy guy on a hospital bed having his heart examined by a boring-looking nurse-woman and the expression on his face is like, sigh. i am too lazy/hungry to upload it so for now it is for me and me alone.

yo. i ordered some things from magic pony and they threw in a blythe doll for me for xmas and i called fil and i said i opened the package and they threw in a blythe and he is like WHY?! and i said BECAUSE THEY LOVE ME! fucking right!

i gave that other little blythe to my neice (once the big-sized one that wilheim got me arrived) who probably forgot all about her and she is in the garbage now, who knows, anyway, now i have a different-looking little sized blythe doll. she has short orange hair and orange eyes, kinda reminds me of melting dolls and also makes me want to cut off all of my hair. and she has all these hipster clothes and spectacles and has a pop-up world book where she is an artist and has a beret hipster hat and i feel like vomitting she is so cute.

VOMIT!

so get ready for more tiny-blythe pictures.

oh and for last minute xmas gifts walk your stupid ass on over to magic pony and say hi to kristin and steve and say raymi sent you and then you can all hug and stand around being socially awkward and then you buy something because you feel obligated and shy and then you go home and write about it in your journal and gush about how an inanimate object could possibly bring so much joy that you are keeping it for yourself and your cousin larry can just go fuck hisself this year.

that piss-ant.