congrats on the move!


click to enlarge

Oh yeah, forgot to say — when the movers were moving all my paintings, artwork, etc, no one said anyting about any of it, except for your big “Let’s Meet at Ted’s” painting that you did when you were visting. The main mover dude said, “Oh cool, I really like this one.” -jamie

aw! which one is that the one with the dog?

yes, a dog and a girl and a little grasshopper saying “Alan?”

these movers clearly were intellectuals

the mover makes spoken word records.

HAHAHA

I wanted to hear one so bad, but he didn’t have any with him.

i got bombayed

yesterday we were cordially invited to a bombay sapphire party in a century-old private residence and designated heritage property. pretty flash.

you know who this guy is, yes?

miss sass was also down for the count.

just a lone(r) with ma thoughts.

i knew i’d be loaded inside ten seconds thank god for the food.

i want.

later on after 4565767 drinks i was so hungry i almost ate one of those mushrooms (thought it was a pita).

heated too, i checked.

6.5 (sass says 6.4) mil and it’s yours.

gin mojito-like drink.

then i snooped around for a bit.

fireplace brought in specially from italy. no biggie.

demo food/drink pairing lesson time. (more on that later kinda in a rush here).

i texted sass that she was a slut and i am BOMBayED (she was flirting with the brit sapphire ambassador in front of everyone, so funny).

gin lemonade (sapphire collins – soda, squeezed lemon, gin) yes please.

then it was time for an interview sit down with julian of notable fame where-in i tara reided my way through it. cringe. i know i at least gave one good sound byte.

yes it was us who took it sorry dudes if you need it back call sass.

nice.

my hangover wasn’t at all bad i forced down some water and a few slices of dominoes philly steak pizza. all in a day’s work. party on wayne.

auntie winnie’s 80th birthday jam

outfit, check. pretty much what i wore friday ‘cept with hosiery and heels.

my niece is growin’ like a weed, man. she’ll be 11 in september, jeez.

gorge spread.

uncle, cousin, mom. check ‘em out back in the day…

the blond hippie hipster is my dad, nice.

partyin’ away.

mom was jeals of my skirt.

uncle mike spent the duration of the afternoon on the phone, in his black socks. my family is insane. accidentally punched a hole or two into that mat, sorry!

auntie winnie is my nana’s sister. they’re neighbours now. so cute.

papa and uncle jim (jim is winnie’s man). i gave papa a postcard of jack kerouac and he sat like a gentleman all afternoon, showing it to anyone who would come near. adorable.

birthday girl. winnie put all her loot ($) in a ziploc baggy. aw.

bros.

what’s with the no shoes, are you guys monks?

how do i get my brother to start dressing like a hipster?

hideaway hangout.

when we first arrived nana goes oh i had a dream about you last nite i’m all oh yeah (flattered) then my mom was like shut up shut up to her nana proceeds saying i was in the hospital (ugh) and they were trying to figure out why i had collapsed like that and the doctor said i had alcohol poisoning right at the exact moment i picked up a glass of wine for my first well-deserved family tranquilizing sip. because i was wearing heels i extra-towered over nana. she kissed me on the shirt and hugged me i was thinking ok do you feel better now that you let that out? later on she got cut and danced to no music in the living room. score one raymi.

i really like that painting.

i had a feeling the rest of the clan was hiding out downstairs.

self-portrait 34873429580907.

i tricked my brother into taking more photos of me by complimenting one he took at canada’s wonderland.

signature family gritchy face we all make when mom gets on our nerves or someone is talking too much.

sigh, my babe cousin leigh. she’s a hair taller than me and 2 years younger. check out her cheekbones. unfair.

cake time.

another family babe, cousin lisa. she has always been one of the sweetest and most tolerant of all the kids running and screaming around, no idea how.

birthday girl hat.

can you picture 80?

i have fifty conflicting stupid captions so nevermind.

i’m sorry but it’s the dress doing the game show pose, not i.

i wanted a flat foot photo (as evidence?) because i am competitive like that. i lost.

talking while posing = muppet.

nana wanted in on the pose-off. nice how leigh got her mug in the bg.

my brother’s in for it man.

every time we look at hailey collectively we sigh our balls off. she’s going to be tall.

ugh. that’s me in grade 9 so like 14/15? here’s another snap of it where you can see my white socks/black pants what the hell right? no H&Ms when we were kids that’s for sure. that would also be leigh on the right.

jammin’ out.

more mirrors, more me.

papa with some crumbs on his face.

ok that’s all folks. payce.

oh wait here’s some of my mom’s pictures.

seeing your own death and selling it to me

plaque attack. zzz.

if survivor ever comes to canada this site would be good for a challenge – each tribe would have to run through this as part of an obstacle course, it’s completely rife with prickly branches the whole way through.

private property. whoops. an english lady came out and yelled at us while her scary dog barked away.

people were very little back then. jokes, the one beside it was normal height.

representin’ my people. if, they were my people.

requisite. don’t think it was the only one.

little known boring fact – my vest is actually, can be, an entire old school ski jacket. the sleeves are around here somewhere.

teen runaway chic.

smart idea. sorry for interrupting. bald guy was a bit aggressive.

here come some more with a case of steamwhistle in-tow.

sigh LOTR.

oh hi there, welcome.

do i have camel toe?

shut up assholes i do not IT’S THE LEGGINGS CREASE.

ok just give me my camera.

tons more later.

i am not a hip hop guy

but i can pretend.

turns out i knew the act from one of their songs on a vice compilation years back. fil did merch while i did the door, i spent a lot of time reading my ronnie book. upstairs a daft punk tribute event was goin’ on so i got to talk to a lot of e-tards and direct them to the atm ’round the bar. more than once a crew of geniuses paid to get into DO/sweatshop stayed for awhile until realising that music was not what they came to dance like fuckin’ monkeys to. one posse’s drugs kicked in while they were talking to me, that wasn’t at all irritating and the classiest chick of the bunch gave me some ‘tude so i made them go upstairs and come back down with a stamp proving they were meaning to go up there before i would give their money back. i only needed one of them to do it, but they all (five) did, save for one that they left behind then the door guy from upstairs comes down and is like who are these retards i asked are they giving you attitude too? yes big time. ugh. so they come back down with stamps and slurrily jaw-grindingly demand their money back cos look WE HAVE STAMPS. yeah i know losers that was my idea and only one of you needed to do that. the concept of paying upstairs for a separate event so i can cover my ass before refunding you was beyond them which is why the one meth face tried to cop a ‘tude with me so i just stonewalled her. once they all had stamps i took pleasure in marking up their hands with green sharpie, x-ing out my initials (at first i was working with a cheetah stamp but the ink got too watery) later on in the bathroom one of the girls was breaking up with some guy on her phone totally high out of her tits it was pretty sad. obvs the guy on the other end wasn’t exactly an einsten himself.

everyone in DO/sweatshop were really nice to us and v appreciative of us sticking around longer than were initially estimated to (hip hop shows notoriously go late). one guy was like you’re hating on us now eh (at about 1.30 or so) i said no actually i’m a fan i didn’t realise i was until you played the US song. smooth. i could tell this one groupie fan chick was jealous of that line.

anyway it was fun, i think i discovered a new way to tolerate shows – getting paid. thanks gill <3.

time for a shower

oooooh what could it be i think i know!

bumble boner. when we went to shawna to get fil’s hair cut a month or so ago the bumble products there reminded me oh yeah i have an “in” my hair is fuckin’ parched i should write andrew he nicely sent me shampoo/condish years ago one time after i blogged about being forced to make ghetto conditioner in the shower (adding water to the remnants in the bottle, sobbing and praying it’ll be enough) out of lazy slacker desperation. anyway, bro came through again thanks!

nice card.

i requested two conditioners this time. this one i’ve never tried before (smells awesome) and the creme de coco which he sent me before and i haven’t ever forgotten its scent. i know someone who’s drooling right now.

and to think i was this close to not washing my hair today. f that see ya!

bufala boner

this little guy cost ten fucking dollars. worth it, it totally blows bocconcini away.

we found two containers last week for 50% off and now we are ruined for it. this was not on sale. sigh.

make your salad however you want. last nite i used arugula, cucumbers, mushrooms, nice olive oil and prosciutto. normally you pair bufala with simply basil and tomato and balsamic.

use your best balsamic if you got it.

i like to delay the cheese part to the very end, i feel like it’s going to be hoovered before i can get my i am going to be eating something insanely delicious face on.

here we go.

i’m going to poke around for a how it’s made video, it’s like magic. so so soft inside it just tears apart so nicely.

if you’ve never had it before then i completely understand how boring it looks to you. no different than feta in pictures when it’s all tore up, or bocc. trust me though once you have it…

epitome of fresh tasting, it just dissolves in your mouth.

ha that bowl of wheat tostitos has been on the counter all week (so classy) i’m gonna throw some to the squirrel.

balsamic time. i don’t like to go crazy with it i don’t like it to overpower the bufala, not fil though he goes to town with balsamic.

yeah salads are pretty boring blog material sorry i’ll come up with some shit talk in a few.

comment mod f up

ok fil pointed out i may have done something to make commenting impossible. i was blocking some spam and i think i went too far with it. anyway, it’s fixed now. so over the last two days if you left a comment, it’s gone, sorry, accident. i didn’t even get to see it (sad face). i wasn’t even getting wordpress emails telling me about celeb sex tape spam comments normally i get blasted with at least 60 a day. so tell me your thoughts again if you want.

oh look someone did just that.

i like what you do.

hi raymi!

just wanted to let you know that i have been reading your blog for almost a year now and that i truly appreciate what you do. you’re original and funny and although i rarely ever comment on your posts i do want to keep reading. i think i found you through shedoesthecity and clicked on your picture because we had the same haircut… kept reading because you are an excellent writer.
anyways i figure the internet is a pretty nasty place and that amazing bloggers such as yourself deserve support. so please keep doing what you’re doing! if i weren’t boobs-deep in credit card debt i would totally buy your book.

i can’t even count how many ways in which i can relate to you, or how many times i’ve had one of those “oh my god, she feels like that TOO?!?!” moments while reading your blog. oh, that was super cheesy (thanks again alcohol…). especially your whole “sense of urgency” thing. totally ridiculous to feel like you have to accomplish EVERYTHING before the age of 30… or whatever.. but i get the same feeling. it’s frustrating.

please keep writing raymi. you’re wicked.

heather.

we watched religulous last nite. i plan to watch bill’s end monologue later on and transcribe it, cos it’s good.