is Brooklyn in the house

so here’s a story. this guy lives around the corner from my work. we follow each other on twitter, fb friends, whatever. one day he’s all i’ll come by the central i practically live there. cool casual no expectations, social city, no big deal. months go by doesn’t happen. then the day i was cruising around miami beach styles in my blue dress and my bloody shoe i see this tall beast of a tanned man sauntering around like a pretentious twat and think holy shit do i want a piece of that but i do nothing as it followed a string of picking up way too many guys not off the internet and that tasting the rainbow (rhonda’s line) makes you feel mental after a short while. then we pass each other again and both stare each other down. do nothing. come ON toronto guys if a girl so much as glances at you it means APPROACH HER. this is why it’s hard for girls in the city, you guys do nothing. always. forever. seriously. how is the planet even populated jesus christ.

ok so i remembered i wanted to get baked before walking down to queen/spadina to get flip flops and financial district to get my bike cos walking stoned is the life for me. everything stoned is sounds like right? shut up. i’m actually weaning myself off as an aside if anybody cares or is listening to me ever.

so i walk back to the hot box to get ripped and guess who i pass ONE MORE TIME. the beast. turns out he was hung and i already made up my mind not to approach so missed connection it was. i figured he probably haunts the market cos he was clearly doing errands and if it was to be then we’d bump into each other yet again. i had no idea he’s the same guy i had previously spoken to via twitter all that crap cos in a thumbnail picture you can’t tell how tall a person is. i’m 5’8 by the way, people ask all the time.

why didn’t i buuuuuy this aside from not wanting to be a fat fuck anymore. why do i torture myself with these photos? creamy coconut dyyying.

treacle is such a disgusting word.

ok fine back to my story.

so this past sunday after dance rehearsal i’m off to wander pedestrian sunday market weirdness, got myself a smoothie and a new pair of shades and then who should i spy? the beast. maybe i should simply call him beast. anyway, i give him this look like oh COME ON pre-emptively frustrated by the i so know you’re not going to approach but simply stare me out. so we pass and i kinda have this stance about me like, bring it on you pussy and it worked. he says to his friend ok i see this girl all the time i have to say hi so he approaches. we chit chat and he says he knows me what??? oh right i’m a famous blogger i forgot for a second there but then i feel stupid cos we’ve actually spoken before. it happens. i can tell immediately that he isn’t entirely a piece of shit so we decide to hang. the end, new friend. the city just gets smaller and smaller then of course turns out we have all these people in common too which is great cos then you instantly get dirt on all of them.

this is a note to self photo.

gridlock traffic ate up so much time if it wasn’t for cheese boutique supplies pretty sure i’d have exploded.

i have taken so many pictures of this pear dessert before. maybe one day i’ll actually try it.

same cut as the nautical print one i bought. too see-thru. until i replace my bedazzled from burlesque bras i have no bras to wear. i feel like i own too many red things.

foot destruction from dance shoes. heal please i want to wear those shoes again asap.

i’m getting good at self control i did not power chow a cookie. or a banana either. i’m breaking up with bananas cos they bind you i thought they didn’t. now i’m all about grapes. they make things move if you know what i mean.

i love wacky details to a room.

everyone around me is wasting away what is going on??

and i’m just turning into a gladiator.

twiggy elyse.

i had a guava guy then i saw the beast.

why can’t i be this organized?

my grandpa made this.

we agreed that investigating secret chambers was a couple’s activity type thing. the date loser from the other nite (haha which one?) at paupers was desperately trying to make talk happen and mentioned the crystal ballroom. i said look, i can barely make time to visit building’s rooms that are generally open to the public year round, why the fuck do i want to see their basements? it came out funnier and nicer but still, i just don’t like crowds on my weekend off.

white wine, mango juice, soda water, ice, and chunks of watermelon. oh summer.

bizarre and bittersweet to sit here as my old condo is right around the corner and i can see into it and the park i always blogged about too.

what a dickhead.

had to buy my own as alicia drunk gifted her pack of rollies to some drunks on annex wreckroom nite.

raymi gaga shoulder pads. cleaned up act for suitor number one date. i am not even going to bother looking thru my dating site messages i’m already over it. do you all want to make fun of the profile i wrote for myself?

nostalgic ashtray.

public. so. good. my one carbs indulgence i still anorexia’d my way thru it, scrape it all off, eat slowly.

i love spying on the world.

jesus what a horrible photo.

hot dimples.

freestyle fuckin around stoned from raymi lauren on Vimeo.

dance as if no one is watching or in this case as if the entire internet is. i’m grooving to groove armada. so into their new album.