and then all was not good in the hood. i think it was because i hadn’t eaten all day and no i’m not starving myself, just no energy to go out and eat and i’m fookin’ stressed so no appetite then you have yourself a mountain of loaded nachos and voila, sicktown. i did’nae barf though. i thought it might have been food poisoning but fil kept on truckin’ through so it wasn’t that and it wasn’t booze cos i barely had a little glass of white. anyway my nacho video is processing right now for shedoesthecity which i think is funny, here put this on your site but don’t tell them i was almost violently ill afterward! i think someone said once that if you don’t eat carbs for awhile and then you do, your stomach is not havin’ it. i now apply that theory to everything. i’ma try and make a red thai soup video tonite to make up for this.

what else what else, oh yeah we watched hell’s kitchen while eating our mountain of gold, and holy shit that show stresses me oot! who is scarier, chef ramsay or the guy who trained chef ramsay and made him cry? (what’s his name?) also, i am super happy the homophobic sexist drunk old man piece of shit was asked to leave for constantly antagonizing the gay guy, calling him a shirt lifter? what the fuck is that, and on tv! idiot! he had been pissing me off from day one, typical cliche old white guy who likes to sit around talking about the good ole politically incorrect days and after a glass of wine is an abusive monster, going on and on about not liking being told he CANNOT say certain things, which brings to mind an awkward situation that happened recently that i can’t really blog about. point being, the world has changed and now the onus is on you to adapt to it and not for the world to adapt to your dusty old-timey notions. it is NOT ok to be a piece of shit in a room full of white people and be secretly racist or display your catalogue of various terms for poofter when a homosexual is present and say it in a way that they are forced to bend and be polite about it, you manipulative twat.

ps. can you tell it’s getting chillier? can you feel it in your bones like i can?

NOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

time for some new jeans

sunglasses problem

what’s that?

oh, just some sunbeam cut-eye, is all.

it’s only tuesday?

obvious EMO cupcake. not sure i should have fucked with it. needs another coat.

re-painting cupcake right now.

how comfortable is that, really?

Just gonna tell a quick story here, regarding why what Raymi does is valuable, important – keep it very simple, a personal penance for past (haha). I hope none of you are diabetic. I’m not even talking value creatively, artistically – I could talk about that, but that part shows itself all over this blog, some of the other positive ramifications don’t. Some quick background: I’m about a year or two younger than Raymi, male, and I usually enjoy this blog unseen and unheard. So I’m kind of a ghost out there, and I bet there are lots of others. I grew up in the ‘burbs, wanted to go into business as of the end of highschool (got a 99% in highschool business), went of to a university known for its conservatism, elitism. University of Wealthy Ontarians; because every fratboy and platinum blonde in the place was rich and from the GTA, everyone. But over the summer before I shipped out a few things happened – I discovered some interesting literary fiction, some righteous philosophic/political non, and raymitheminx. All of these things worked concertedly to bring about some big existential changes, a florescence which is still developing, and of which I’m pretty appreciative. Raymi played a big part in this. Her blog exhibited someone – and I mean fully exhibited, that part was important – who had come from suburban wasteland to the big city, was doing what she wanted to do, was successful, and wasn’t taking shit from anyone. I could explain this more, but I’m keeping it relativley short. I’m not some crazy internet nut, I don’t treat anything as sacred, and leave myself beholden to no one. But take that as is, consider that.

R | Edit comment Delete comment

so lost another kid to the dirty 30s. sigh and yes, dirty thirties is the sickest term, if you know a better and more apt rhyming word, let me know. flirty thirties? EWWW. if you use that one i’m sorry, friendship denied.

she appeared out of nowhere.

look, an old man is talking, lets listen.

quite the green thumb.

lookin’ haggard from my 4.30am queasy couch surfing.

BLAH IT’S FOLLOWING ME!

treebeard?

oh jade.

garage sale gem.

she’s always got the what the fuck is going on look.

check my roots, no greys yet, just golden guys what look white.

good thing my shirt has a built-in baby hammock whatever those new yuppie parents are all about, papoose? no that’s on your back. ugh hahaa whatever.

raymi’s guide to party anxiety, play with the animals or the small children, come out looking like mary magdalene, oh wait, she was a hooker. nevermind. come out looking like her anyway.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

i know right, are you puking yet?

ha nice goblet of white wine, i swear i was takin’er easy for real. MEAN IT.

babe alert.

cheeky monkeys.

a well-deserved injury after whipping me in the ankle with a tennis ball (can’t aim for shit, or can?) and i also learned that fil could juggle. or i knew this before in the beginning awkward stage of our courtship and just forgot about it, he tried to perform a juggling routine once and couldn’t hack it. anyway i was all ooh juggling boner and fil was all really?! doot dee doot doot doot! (juggling sounds). so this injury was accidental, we had a bunch of tennis balls we were playing catch with and naturally the dog was spazzing out monkey in the middle and finally got fil.

happy birthday martin tweed!!!!!

hey raymi,
i’m vaguely recalling memories of my younger years and you’r willingness to put a letter on your blog, feeling that you had given me a taste of something bigger, greater than ourselves. i think we all feel it, at one point or another, it just needs someone to confirm the idea. How hard you look for it is probably important too. it was strange, it gave me hope, tanks.

anyways, your like make ur own fucking hollywood, and i say fuck yeah!
anyways… if you or phil are ever in connecticut, land of the cursed, y’alls got a place to crash.
later gator.
mp

we ate so much saturday nite then rode home to watch the who can eat the most meat episode of k vs. s and then i woke up at 4.30am and couldn’t stop picturing the puke and meat milkshake so i had to sleep on the couch and tried to read, now in the future when i feel nauseous i am going to picture that fucking episode. samir got sprayed with kenny’s puke during it. it is probably the most disgusting thing i have ever watched in my life aside from the puke scene in pet cemetery, that one is gross and scary at the same time, ultimate nightmare. oh great i feel sick now. a few months ago during one of my marathon nausea evenings spent on the bathroom floor (not even from being loaded) i was reading the bust article on beth ditto and i was feelin’ fine ’til i go to the word puked then i hurled my face off.

more cats are little retards evidence.

oh i held a little kid in my arms yesterday afternoon at a bday party and fil got SUPER JEALOUS on behalf of cid, he said in my ear that holding cid is way better.

AHHAHAHAHHHAhahaHAha oh sigh.

OMFG STOP!!!!!!!

whatever doesn’t make it here, check here.

little asianRaymi (hates being called that) took aunti raymi on a date to impress and spoil friday nite.

fil and pitt had regular seats, i told sass so she one-ups them just cos, they were a leetle beet miffed.

k see you later snicker snicker mwah.

it took us forever to figure out where they were sitting, everything is a giant blur after staring at the moving ants w/o blinking for several seconds.

FREE FREE FREE FREE SMELL THE FREE

retro uni’s

there were some other v nice people sharing the box, i am super shy for the first two hours until everyone is soused then i let the jokes roll.

OMG WHERE ARE YOU GUYS!? we had been staring into the wrong abyss til they called us a couple times to direct where to look.

see my burnt collagen lip

no prob

that guy bought a bottle of tequila, nuts right! i made the toast and then i was the champ, i regretted it a little afterward: to wives and girlfriends pause pause pause AND MAY THEY NEVER MEET.

our server was redonk. charming.

am i the only one who feels insecure at buffets or formal functions when food is present, i don’t feel like people are judging me for what i choose it’s the time it takes selecting what i want to eat that makes me feel under a microscope, which can be narrowed down to that stupid little salsa scoop shovel! am i supposed to dab a teeny bit on each chip or do i make a glob on my plate which is beyond impossible to then get onto your chip when you go sit down. so then i am standing there putting a tiny mountain on each individual chip and the entire universe is standing around waiting their turn watching my every move. this is why you do the whole chips and dip thing in the privacy of your own home shrouded in mystery and shame!

wha’gwan

so chio lor leh la eh ha wah eh

aw dinky.

he was so wasted.

ice cream time.

i don’t eat that shit.

bangs are beginning to drive me up the fucking wall.

rock paper scissors anyone?

hope y’all kept your tickets cos it’s free racist pizza for today only.

BYE GUISE I LEFT YOU MY CARD.

i tried to smuggle some tequila down to fil, elevator lady wasn’t havin’ any of it.

can you believe this chick doesn’t wear any underwear beneath these tiny skirts she wears ugh enough wear in this sentence?

playing with fire kid.

then we meet up with the dewds.

turns out highwaister‘s there i’m try’n to get’er on the voicebox.

orange you glad we are in love?

here she comes!

now, what was that thing about short shorts?

popeye march?

bye have a good one!

then we left fil/pitt to have a little late nite snack together, sass and i hightailed it home to meet up with our other little wiener friend steph. we stayed up til 4.30am and i was a total shitshow the next day for the garage sale, i almost had to bail. sass reminded me that the lemonade was my responsibility. oh that asian guilt! if you see anything you like in the pics email me and i’ll let you know if it’s still up for grabs.