murder weather

oh hi there it’s me your friend in the tube flops that pisses everybody off because they don’t have flip flops attached to their feet they can trudge through lake slimy rocks by or be prepared for an aerobics class just like that.

there i am again. this was when we first arrived. second morning. i am an idiot look at that morning sun or afternoon whatever light.

betty and veronica wanted at large, crimes: being single. for some reason.

this is going to be a pathetically dismal update as my laptop is burning hot from picture d/ling so it might conk out on me. which i love. i think i just figured out how to make photos smaller so this won’t happen anymore. i love the requisite hummingbird cottage feeder. reminds me of the homestead cottages the first time i ever saw one. i was all, Por Qué? and they were all, you know spanish? and i was all, i know spanish!? anyway, it fascinated me that you could feed these weird little birds with sugar water like, why? don’t you have better shit to do? that’s my four year old mentality. what a prick eh?

epic stand still traffic jam it was like the stand or any post-apocalyptic movie kinda eerie like that’s what it would really be like if the system stopped working what’s that movie with shia labeouf and bruce willis? was that another die hard movie? anyway, it starts with traffic then all goes to shit from there.

hi trish! these aren’t even remotely close to being in order.

this is when we escaped the traffic i don’t think we even made it to barrie before that happened.

taking pointers from the party bible of givin’er.

these kids were referring to trish as the crazy lady cos of her pants. they also thought we were all teenagers. i love kids. they’re so fucking stupid.

i’m gonna go on a weed break again. i was an eatasaurous rex this weekend. i largely feel like the off button is missing thanks to this garbage.

became intimately familiar with this stretch of land thanks to whatever bunged up the flow of traffic up ahead.

one of the first dudes out of their car. wicked. obvs.

not a bad way to spend a saturday afternoon when everyone else you know is back in the city. probably the best weather ever too.

on like zero hours sleep from closing up bar nite prior.

kinda somewhat see ab definition here amongst the flub. as well as my rod stewart cowlick.

those shorts are wicked tight too. i made another pair of shorts last nite. i have way too many shorts now. i figure it doesn’t matter cos they’ll see me through winter and all the dumb tights i plan to wear with them.

how irritated does this one make you feel?

when’s the last time you were caught in something like that? ever? ps. ABS!

so casual.

back at it. love these shades. same frame style as this other pair i have that bit the dust.

holy shit i look tanned. which means i must be hyper-tanned right now cos this is before the suntanning went down.

ugh. it’s like that zombieland movie (how come i can only relate real life things to movies?) kind of.


be right back with more. maybe. also, please vote for casie, help get her back in the lead to be virgin’s provocateur so that i can mooch off whatever perks come along with all that. thank you. it will only take a second or two. if i had my shit together enough to battle it out in a contest i’d have made an attempt at this myself, but i don’t have my shit together, so i didn’t. the end.

emails what made my day

from my good old friend jeremy

How are you doing? I hope things are well for you and that life is good. I’m very happy that you (unlike the rest of us) get to do the work you dreamed to do as a teenager. I wish I could say the same. I hope that you have the continuing creativity, good luck and skill to do this for a long time and that you understand that you are very lucky and not very many people can say that they had a goal as a teenager and accomplished it. Becky reads your blog and says that you are funny and entertaining. I hope you are well and life is good and that you could get me up to speed on what you have been up to. Tell you brother and mom I said Hi and that i hope they are well. When we were young I knew you had the skill and IQ to become a great writer and that I thought you would write some great book. That fact that you did it online shows that you are even smarter than I thought. Good Luck and keep up the good work.

and then this one from alecia of which we go way back as well in internet years.


I have to admit something…I absolutely LOVE hate-mail. All kinds. It is hysterical. I’ve been loving your hate-mail tear-aparts as well. Seems to be a lot more lately, or maybe you’re just more vocal about it? Anyways, I can’t believe these pathetic captain douche-bags waste their internet time tearing up people that they don’t know…

(Sidenote: I do this occassionally, but only to elected politicians, whose job it is to hear my grievances.)

Do these people actually think that you give a flying fuck what they think about you? HEY I HAVE READ THIS BLOG FOR __ YEARS THEREFORE MY OPINION SHOULD AFFECT YOU IN SOME MANNER. YOU OWE THIS TO ME FOR PUTTING UP AN INTERESTING BLOG YOU ARE MY SLAVE yada yada yada…it’s insanity.

Fuckin’ cunts, mostly. I never got along with chics well to begin with and may not even get along with you in real life (being that I am awkward and hate strangers and many other issues) but you are a force to be reckoned with and I respect that. Half of the shit you write about I don’t relate to at all (fashionable clothing and more than 2 hair cuts a year? WHAAA?!) but I even enjoy reading it regardless of my lack of general interest because of the WAY you write it and the amusing banter and the trillions of photos and uniqueness. You’re putting out a product that people want…and I would imagine that at least 3/4 of your hate mail is born out of jealousy, because people can’t create anything on their own that isn’t a complete waste. I for one will opt for straight out admitting jealousy at aspects of your life. People want you at their parties so bad they give you free food and booze?! God damn, that is fucking sweet! Why can’t people just admit shit like that?

I suppose even in writing this I’m offering more unsolicited garbage for you to filter through, but the purpose when I began typing was just to be like “KEEP ROCKING I LOVE IT.” & while many may claim that you’re giving more ammunition to the hate-mailers when you repost their e-mails…I just don’t agree. It’s hilarious and your entire not-giving-a-fuck attitude would be dampened in some manner if you didn’t do just precisely whatever the fuck you wanted…




back in town holy heatwave ugh. i am such a dirty skidrat right now. killed it at the gym now i’m sitting in my fave rickets position in bed playing internet catch up. i am cottage fat. such a great time we had at the moon basin marina it was like being on another planet driving in there, the terrain of the earth all reds and orange rock retarded paths in the forest ahhh sucks to be back but also nice to be back.

if you wanna PARTY ON RAYMI’S DIME this friday SEPT 3 at the mod club for does it offend you? yeah! let me know. went last year with sass and the gang and it was such a fun show. dance city. that was back when i didn’t spazz out at shows i’d just stand around trying and failing miserably at getting drunk but dioyy got me dancing. also i was loaded from all day drinking on the island. this time will be just as great cos you can have my balcony spot with food set up (buy your own damn drinks cheapskate) plus, free show raymi’s guests of honour. how nice am i? just email me your name and how many plus 1’s and there you go on the list. here is a video of me dancing like a lunatic to one of DIOYY’s jams. woah this is from 2 years ago. time flies holy crap.

i haven’t showered since saturday morning. i look beautiful right now.

guess how many chicks want my black dress? hilarious.

i have so many photos to upload from the weekend. it can wait. internet connection in my room is so slow i want to strangle it into submission ughhhhhhhh why is the signal so weak it’s probably from all that p0rn lucas downloads.

i don’t wanna work i just wanna blog on my blog all day

my eyes are so bloodshot i feel like i was just swimming in a pool filled with chlorine and nettles. i don’t even know why i’m here now as i haven’t even showered or packed for gbay it’s the avoidance procrastination dance. didn’t get to bed til 5am closed down the bar not even a shit show wind down close pretty mellow not a paper or pipe could be found so we tried to figure out how to make a bong which was impossible so a peace pipe type of contraption was crafted. solid class. ugh i just realised my bike is at the central. did i tell you the right hand break snapped? and all my gears are shot so now it’s a one gear bike i’m back to where i was with my other tank bike. i was gunning across college and felt like my brakes became really in-tune (magically?) all the sudden then snaaaap gone. kinda scary. the left one works fine, i think the left one does the back wheel? you’re welcome for sharing. look at this email i got last nite,

How are ya tonight Oxford girl ?

Hi Lauren, i took your advise and came over to your fine abode this eve.
Alas, you were so busy you did’nt notice me sitting at a table behind the three
guys sitting at the bar. I have a way of not being noticed it seems, i don’t know
if thats such a good way of getting noticed! Anyway you looked so lovely in that
dress, i was really stoned and tired from mixing all day in the studio but adamant
to at least see if you were as pretty in person as your post pics, you are. Maybe we can
shoot the shit sometime? Maybe i can come by when the bars less busy?

all the best rich ‘aka’ malcolm xyz , ‘aka’ , well you know.

i can’t tell if i should feel creeped out (don’t) or hyper-flattered or both or annoyed he didn’t say hi. i understand the shyness factor and it being slammed. craig came by also and i barely got to hang but anyway, i’m intrigued. i’m trying to remember everyone who was sitting in that area and i just can’t place a face to that spot. i just see darkness.

i will tell you where this dress is from if you email me. i’m not promoting shit for free anymore also i don’t want everyone to have the same dress as me. not that i expect this dinky store to come at me with free dresses or money i just i dunno, fuck them? i do like to help out my girls though so just write and i’ll tell you but don’t tell the universe. i went to urban behaviour to get my other dress the green one, i wanted it in black but they sent those dresses to orfus road location. um thanks? basically i pick stuff off the rack that no one wears cos it doesn’t hang well or look particularly beautiful while hung so no one can envision it on themself. if you see something with a boxy-ish shape on a hanger, kinda potato sack-like, shifty, it will look good on you if you actually have a figure, hips, curves, etc. raymi tip. i also belted this dress with the teeny belt that came with the other thing i got. this dress comes with a little brooch too. in the store a lady saw me come out, she was with her daughter who was mid-convo and went that is beeeeeeautiful! sold.

strongest beer ever holy shit you guys are in love with this redhead it’s insane. calm it down a little please i’m getting irritated. especially with the omg he’s hot marry him! really? OK! that’s how this works now!? DONE! thank you for deciding my life for me.

hare feast.

was good. not sufficient enough base for all the beer we were “tasting” though i mean i know you’re supposed to go light but no one ever does. ever.

beer passport map thing of all the bars/pubs in the city doing beer week.

my hair looks like a feather. in new orleans it’s going to be so fluffy so fucking fluffy ahaha can’t wait.

my ass looks like a heaven. nice stretch marks poppin’ from my tan.

can’t talk, working.

what’s that inxs song, something something wasted? elegantly wasted.

blah ok shower bye saturday here i come. first time FIRST TIME ALL SUMMER going to a fucking cottage. may 2-4 weekend doesn’t count. i told clem it will be my first time going up north all summer isn’t that sad and he goes yes, your life is sad.

Remember what they say There`s no shortcut to a dream It`s all blood and sweat and life is what you manage in between

ready for a rant now? here’s an email i received during wakestock about 4 in the morning while i was crashed out in the hotel room of the production manager hahah. i’m actually getting anxious, pre-rant anxious about it cos i haven’t bothered to address hate mail lately. i don’t have the time for it. oh remember the boring days when i had time for negativity? me either. onward, certainly not upward, as this one’s pretty stupid, ignorant and downer…

subject: Oh Lauren (meanwhile she opens with “hey raymi” ugh you don’t know me, don’t call me anything you fucking bitch)

Hey Raymi, (snicker)

I’ve been reading your blog for a really long time and have always been a big fan of Raymi’s. As someone who really relates to your newfound single-hot-child-in-the-city life, I just, well, don’t anymore.

why do people feel compelled to delcare that they are “over” me? dude i don’t even know who you are, like, at all, period. you were beyond invisible to me for years so your disappearing blip to be (yeah right) will go largely (LARGELY) unnoticed. YOU know me. i don’t know you. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD.

I know you have “haters”…and I’m not one of those.

ok then what the fuck ARE you then?

But I do think that some of them have a few, if not many, good points.

that you, again, feel compelled to for some reason inform me of like i asked you? do i wake up everyday and proclaim to the world i’m awake now please tell me what to do? does it not look like i carry on fine enough self-sufficiently as is without your/their/anybody’s say? do i need handlers? i am the one providing entertainment (generously) here and i don’t need your fucking feedback about it before the next show goes on. shut the fuck up unless you’re kissing my ass i don’t need your “points” thank you.

I think you’ve really lost touch of what made you cool to begin with.

which is what? sorry girl, i am cool, born cool, will die cool. i am not a poseur like many many others in this city. i am legit and i like what i like if you don’t like it you can stick to your fads that died yesterday, half the shit everyone else signs up for isn’t even fun. punk? is that fun? no! is it “cool”? yes! is it punk of me to punk, punk? do i care about ANY of this shit no i am just typing into my stupid blog that the entire fucking city reads because they know it’s the real deal, they might think i’m a joke but a successful joke, so really who’s the joke on?

You’ve become the opposite of that, the opposite of everything that 20-year old me (or 26-year old me, for that matter) would read about on a somewhat-daily basis and think “fuck yah! fuuuck yah, Raymi’s awesome.” It has nothing to do with who you ‘were’ (Phil, old friends, etc), but about who you are trying to be now, or seem to be now, or whatever.

well since you are the expert here please tell me who or what i am trying to be or was cos i haven’t a fucking clue to be honest. i do not “try” things. i am a DO-ER. not a TRY-ER. and what the fuck are you or who the fuck are you? you’re fucked out of your mind for one to write me such an intense email at 4 o’clock in the morning on a saturday after eyeballing my blog and seething at the bits, fuming from my wakestock (WORKING) weekend. you bought the hype so much you had to write a letter to the fucking editor what a nerd! you are not a doer. you are a commenter. you are a watcher, not an engager. you follow, you don’t lead. you think you have any experience on the matter of passing judgment on another’s life here? go make some waves in the water first before shooting your boring influenceless mouth off.

Every post I read now reminds me of my last year in high school, or first year in University, or worse.

you’re doing an awful lot of comparisons here, are you in love with me or do you want to be me or think you were living parallel to my life single white female style in whatever the fuck bland existence you have/had for yourself? so your party peak was high school/uni, cool story?

The point is, you’re old. It’s not that you look old, or act old, you’re just, well, old news. It’s all been done…and you’re way too late.

then why are my blog hits through the roof then? consistently, through the roof. i bet i get as many as torontoist. tell me ONE blogger in canada who gets more hits, a personal blogger, not a lainey gossip rag or tech bullshit artist blogger, someone who made themself the product/subject, not OTHER subjects. you can’t cos there isn’t one. high traffic = relevancy. numbers do not lie sister. why am i still relevant, hugely. sorry babe but i’m still of the moment and as i grow (age) so does my loyal audience. it’s a show down between me and them of who goes down first. it will obviously be me but as if they’re not going to watch. i will never ever ever disappear, people will never not be interested in what i do next. i am just that good. this is my skill set. have you made yourself famous? did you know you had such a magnetic dynamic personality that you’ll just fucking explode if you don’t come into contact with as many people as possible every goddamn day of your life? casie knows this, she is a force, a fucking force that i am proud of and proud to know. what am i late to, the game that i merely fucking invented? christ you’re lost.

I know you love to snark on “boring” couples, people, whoevers, but honestly, you just seem so pathetic…and angry. Yes, maybe you’re acting out your early 20’s now or ‘living the good life! the fun life! the better-than-your life!’ like I assume you might say, but I think what you’re really living is sad and boring.

good for you person who should have just stopped reading and not written a personal love sonnet on their way out

I mean, Raymi, Wakestock? With Casie Stewart and hair extensions, no less? Come onnn. The worst part is, you’re not even influential anymore.

BAHAHahahaha if i wasn’t influential why did redd hair studio sponsor me those extensions (and another set) AND all my hair styling, dye (expensive), cut, anything? hmm well for a start, they’re a boutique salon and very exclusive, high end, coveted, their celebrity clientele roster is ridiculous. anyway, the point is i walked in there, took some photos playing around with hair extensions with my friend britt, blogged said photos and the next day shannon’s phone blew up with all her friends asking for the same hair extensions. friends whom for years have known about their friend’s salon yet also read my blog. who sold them those hair extensions? raymi did. you see maggie, this is what we call influence. this is just one example of many in which i have (based on my star power alone) influenced others to try out a product or service, not only because i am attracted to it myself and believe in it and give it my raymi’s book club stamp of approval and people depend and rely on my word of honour, i sold that motherfucker cos i’m raymi the fucking minx and that’s simply what i fucking do, whether intentional or not it just happens. i get “copied”, emulated, whatever. there’s hundreds of raymi copy cat blogs out there. i do something to my hair, i buy an outfit, try a new look, it gets copied. i am a trendsetter, not a follower, i am my own person and i’m just blogging it, i don’t care if it’s old or not allowed or “done” or anything i’m a doer, still doing, my thing. and i don’t care what anybody has to say or wonder or analyze (psycho) about it. if people want to latch on to the raymi train then good. if they don’t, so what. write an email to me about it i guess? you know who else sponsored me? wakestock. you’re favourite. you sound obsessed. sorry you weren’t invited.

You’re comic relief. You know how people love reading fake/ shitty celebrity magazines to make themselves feel better about their own lives? That’s why people read your blog.

all celebrities are comic relief, they know this and that’s why they have millions of dollars and you don’t you stupid fucking retard. i know what i’m doing here where is the mystery?????? it’s four in the morning GO TO BED!

The really interesting, cool people in Toronto who do actual cool shit (the SNP’s, the Vaneska’s,the.list.goes.on.), they’re never even on the same party list as you (Wakestock! ha.),

yaaaaaaawn. did you know on snp’s blog she mentioned she was thinking of getting hair extensions cos she’s trying to grow her hair out? do you know she’s in the fashion world and vaneska’s in the dj world and do you know i think they’re great and cool and all that shit i’m contractually blogligated (hahahah) to say, but anyway, you sound like a baby desperate poseur dying to get in on their scene but you’re whining to me about it why? do you even know how the pr media world works in toronto? do you know how many parties i turn down because i don’t have the time or the care for the “scene”? it’s superficial, superfluous and exactly the same shit you were complaining about up there about my “better than you” lifestyle vibe living. you’re an idiot. fuck you pay me is typically my response to people if the party itself doesn’t seem like it’s going to “give” me enough of what i want, namely free booze and food. those are the things i bother going to and not some boring whatever at whatever soon-to-not-be hot bar in the city “thing” going on that everyone goes to because that’s what they’re supposed to do and THAT’S what you think i should be doing or am being “excluded” from? laughable. it’s called choice, maggie. it’s boring, trust me. i have some people who don’t even bother typing a word, not a solid word in an email before the dollar amount. i have trained these advertisers, type it in the fucking subject line THEN explain to me what you want me to do i’m not going to pretend to care about shit on my blog just so everyone thinks i’m cool. that’s what’s “really cool and interesting” to me maggie. money.

let alone the same blogroll.

what does that even mean? what blog roll? god’s blog roll? WE HAVE OUR OWN LIVES AND SCENES THERE ISN’T ONLY ONE SCENE IN THE CITY and there is nothing wrong with jockstock which by the way we had the high-rolliest of times at it was so much fun being treated like celebrities, it was retarded and amazing and obscene and everyone should get an experience like that at least once in their lives. in case you didn’t notice in all the years of jerking off to my blog, i kinda dig sports and am kind of a tomboy myself look how california beach surfy tanned i am does it match anyone else in the fucking scene right now that is or isn’t happening? i also love casie stewart. she’s a bigger man than me cos when i told them about your shitty email and alluded to her being slagged too she cut me off and refused to even give you any fucking airspace. so impressive. i wouldn’t have the power to not demand to know every single thing about that email straight away. she’s a bigger and better person than you will ever be. she gets shit on so fucking much it makes me sick. she hustles her ass to the bone and deserves everything she’s earned. she is a star and an idol. she IS ladyblogga, to the core. she shut your ass down maggie, you are an insect. you got straight dissed. sad face.

There’s no Minx left, not at all.

don’t make me choke laughter.

I guess we’re finally just seeing Lauren

did you just learn that the tooth fairy wasn’t real too? you were seeing lauren all along are you schizophrenic?

…and Raymi was all a facade. What a waste of my 6 years.

OH BOOHOO sob and why didn’t you reply to my angry responses via email you pussy! this is what i said i can’t even remember this is old news to me now. wakestock was a lifetime ago. you’d know that if you were involved in any sort of scene and not just a passive voyeur.

“Wow really, a 4am email, this? Cool!!! It’s a business girl. Thanks. The entire toronto scene is a dead joke anyway I have never been fully immersed in it. Am I not allowed to go away to work for a fucking weekend with friends to a joke festival? Be a bitch much? And I’ve hustled my ass to the bone to be where I am now.”

in summation, this email made me feel claustrophobic. there was just so much wrong about it i felt overwhelmed with all the defensive i was gonna have to be about it because that’s my own biggest mental deficiency, being defensive. i always feel like i need to address shit and clear things up. i like a good fight when i know i’m right.

ok time to re-read the nonsensical, edit, shower, work. my mom thanks you for wasting my time so that i had less time visiting with her and my niece today. asshole.

also, i know “raymi” the facade thereof, is supposed to be “too cool” to have feelings or whatever but on the subject of mean, that email, MEAN. that’s dirty, dawg. i don’t play that way at all. you are a rotten person maggie. your core is gross. good luck with that.

the dead mouths it costs to be alive

(warning nerdberts at work who freak over the n00dz here, there’s some noodz here)

I am having an upsetting day, its giving me the push I’ve never had before to tell you how much I admire you. I realize I’m going to come across as- whatever-(crazy stalker) I’ve been reading your blog since Jan 2005 and twitter since 2008 and I want to thank you for being an interesting strong beautiful role model. (Girl crush) I have great personal stories but this email isn’t for that -(I’m not a writer if you couldn’t already tell).
I guess I’m just announcing my presence after so long and thank you for sharing so much of yourself.
(And now I’m relived I got up enough courage to write to you- I’m sure my day will be better)
So much love and happy vibes


Heyyyy! Sooo don’t ask me HOW, but one day I randomly came across your blog and I gotta say – I absolutely love it. It’s kind of my new obsession. I love the way you write and how you seem to have this ‘fuck it, I don’t really care what you think about me’ attitude. Its refreshing (in a world where all people seem to do is care about is what everyone else thinks….) and admirable…I wish I could be more like that!!

I’m not originally from Toronto (from a wee little town 2 hours east of here), but have lived here for a few years and am getting sooooooooooooo insanely retardedly sick of the douchebag wannabes. I like reading your blog because you calls ‘em as you sees ‘em. :)

Also as someone else who has recently had her heart crushed, the mere idea of getting back into the dating world is enough to bring me to tears (…isn’t that supposed to be saved for the end of a terrible date? ha ha) but reading about your experiences makes me laugh (thank God I’m not the only one who gets drunk on dates :p ) and realize that life goes on and while dating may SUCKKKK, there can be a fun side of it (….and a free meal…or not, if you’ve ever been on some of the dates I have….that’s right, he asked me to SPLIT the bill. fuck)

Anyway, I was going to be a quiet little Raymi lurker, or just randomly add you to Facebook or something… but after I read you write about some of the criticism you receive from some people I thought – No, I’m gonna send a creepy little stalker message because *I don’t care what anyone thinks about me* So there.



meet tarek!

meet nella bella. ahh gad dreamy.

new gym bag. tarek chose it for me. i performed a series of back flips in my head.

he said my outfit was very chloe. my hair was a rat’s nest from the gym. he also gave me the bag i’m holding. wales bag. every bag is named after a city. how appropriate my grandpa was welsh. tarek is so peppery i love him we are going to hit the town together soon.

evening bag so so so soft. it matched my dress last night perfectly.

do you know how fucking much i love the olympus pen? every time i bring it out i’m like why don’t i do this more often??? well now i have a proper bag to protect it in. so there.

vegan. suede. vegas baby.

love the royal purple lining. purple is the colour of royalty did you know that?

don’t think i won’t be back for more.

went to ginger’s to prepare for toronto beer week launch dinner. historical shit, finally toronto is on the beer week bandwagon. who cares look how cute ging and i are.

great lighting great camera great muscles. great.

you’re gonna lose that girl.

no sex count day 4000. now it’s a thing that i made it a thing ughhhh. my friend yesterday was like why do you feel the need to even explain yourself to the world about it? probably due to all the nudey photos and assumptions based upon them. i feel the weight of the world’s judgments all the time so i’m pre-dodging it?

aging gracelessly.

i am so hung today. beer attacked me. strong beer. i never drink beer so every time that i do i am blindsided by hangover and totally shocked by it. for some reason i feel like i can beat hangovers? like i’m so special. ugh.

sort of making an attempt at modesty. why do i even bother?

trying to cover up bruises. i walked into a barbell at the gym a couple weeks ago. winner.

oh god those pics took way too long to upload i want to explode.

going away this weekend with trish and stew to gbay so so so pumped i will be very bagged tomorrow cos i’ll be working all nite and it’s a friday biggest bar night of the week come on by. also booked flight for neworfuckingleans i cannot wait. early september.

the stills are playing tonite in the distillery don’t forget that too! 7-8pm.

it’s getting chillier eh. time to partner up soon to make it through the winter.

kept shirt on at the gym this time felt way too strippery. the desk girl was nicer to me but it feels forced now. she so knows i dated that guy who has no interest in her. oh well.

i fear my thighs are getting thundery from all the biking and treadmill. gah!

cool sideways not. holding the other dress i didn’t wear. maybe i’ll wear it to work tonite i don’t care if it gets trashed it was cheap. like you.

guys go retarded for socks i don’t care how bitchy the comments of girls are about them i’m not wearing them for you, you stupid cow. go home and put your own damn socks on and see for yourself. they’re also practical i am tried of putting band-aids on my heels everyday. anyway it’s hilarious to me how many times i hear i love your socks or just simple caveman utterances SOCKS! all jock wakestocked-out.

someone corrected me that this is a nectarine not a peach.

orgasmface hahaha so unattractive.

that’s more like it.

Dana: I really hope to be like you you have no idea

Raymi Lauren White
awwwwwwww serious why?

Dana: you dont give a shit about what anyone thinks does or says. your you which is a very kickass fuckin girl which I could only hope of being friends with

Raymi Lauren White
thats flattering and very perceptive of you to notice. all chicks should be this way.

Dana : to be honest I am. I just lack the fun and the happiness and the friends and good life you have and thats what I want haha!! so bad!

Raymi Lauren White
my life in pictures makes everything seem way more glamorous than it is.

Dana McBride : doubtful you’re the fun and fantastic Raymi

Raymi Lauren White
thats true but it isnt always fun and games. it’s a charmed life for sure and i try not to take it for granted. i do crave normalcy.

Ontario Microfit

All the single Raymis

i reject your reality.

this shade of nail polish looks better on melodie.

going on a spree of how many days we can hang out before we hate each other. getting pretty good at tolerating moods though it gets a little close at points. excuse me one moment while i go into the other room AND FUCKING SCREAM INTO A PILLOW. thank you.

this photo is teribble but my arm is super tanned looking.

what sorry can’t help it there’re mirrors everyyyywhere.

after a night ride the pants come off. too lazy to put on leggings also the half tub of (half the fat) coffee Häagen-Dazs was saying pants-free zone. if you don’t drink for a night you reduce your caloric intake then eff it all up by ice cream mental.

more please.

it’s now “a thing” that we’re not blasting and all of ginger’s friends think he is a total fucking idiot retard moron. one guy is like, super pissed off about it hahahahaha and they’re all reading my blog too now HI! lets start a counter, day 009: NO CHANGE. who cares, it’s nice to hang out platonically doing couple-like shit without sex fucking it all up.

hanging with nerdy engineers gets you up super early. way too early. you feel like you can get so much done with your day like go to the gym a thousand times and speed read 4 newspapers at once. ugh. all the stuff i didn’t do yesterday i HAVE to do today. stress attack!

not even 7 in the morning.

i tell you nothing like morning air whipping you at 130km or however fast we got up to to wake you the hell up. i feel like i’ve experienced ten seasonal changes and am only going to feel more and it’s not even half past 9. i like how arrogant you can get so early in the day I DID EVERYTHING FIRST ME EMEMEM EME ME! look at this day i fucking OWN it!

and now i am starving. i think i’m going to start trying to be a morning person, eating breakfast morning person. productive person. normal boring person? should i do this? gym guy says i should eat breakfast and lunch, maybe if i do normal shit like the rest of the normals i will be as fit as they are? why do i have to be stubborn all the time with my shit, my diets and fucked up eating restraints? and why does every condo in the city’s garage have green paint accents?

safety last.

toronto is looking more and more like vancouver. condos everywhere. barrrrrrf. the city will never be complete. feels like only yesterday i was commuting in from streetsville every morning looking at the skyline and the half constructed buildings like, has any progress been made are you fucking satisfied yet? how many people do you need living in boxes in the sky? why don’t you fix the streets first to make way for all these people. i almost die every day on queen and yonge. shit gets scary.

so early you can see the moon. THE MOON!

the shade is growing on me.

retarded o’clock dropped off now what the hell do i do?

beat off to myself? yes please!

nah nah nah i am going to hit the gym early come back here get gussied up meet with the designer bags people i was supposed to meet yesterday then head off to the monk’s table for toronto beer week did you even know it was toronto beer week? still? actually it’s called the toronto week of beer. why not the toronto YEAR of beer? it’s a press dinner (mmmmmmmm) in Honor of Saint Arnold the Patron Saint of Beer. (i hope they have whiskey haha) dad i want to take you to one of these things someday. “Bill White Hosts a Five Course Extravaganza of Belgium Beer and Food Pairings” maybe i’ll go wait outside right nowwww.

i just want to be a fat wife with kids already, eating and drinking my way through the boring city. fuck i love eating so much it’s ridiculous. how can everyone be awake so long without thinking about inhaling an entire box of mini wheats like that’s all i can think of right now aaaaarrrrrrrrrrg.

should i wear my heathers dress tonight (black lacy) or the other thing that makes me look like i have big tits? oh nevermind you’ll get it wrong anyway. BYE.

for that dollar she’s a star tonight without warning she gave up the ghost inside

a very barbie day in the neighbourhood.

pink on pink.

wurst sampler. it was not the worst. that triangle is a galette. a galette is an obnoxious way of saying scalloped potato pie thing. as an aside, i love hot mustard.

the greens with risotto cakes. signif portion of food, actually a meal, for 9 bucks. bier markt. ludicrously obnoxious beer menu of course, impressive.

love sugar beach.

jerk turkey mission.

have you heard of the gap before? it’s this term guys use for the part between your legs, upper thighs, that doesn’t touch. apparently it’s “all about the gap” holy fuck right? guys. men. you are ridiculously crude behind our backs. locker room talk. anyway, meet my gap.

why are tubs of protein so fucking insanely big yet half full? as if jocks aren’t world-destroying types enough as is they buy dog food sized containers of protein powders that aren’t full. ha ha awesome. EXTREEEME! ginger and i are both gym rats. very jersey shore these days.

are these the same beans like baked beans? i am too lazy to remember what it said on the can. strained them through a siv and washed them of that ectolasma syrupy goo. ew.

some a-hole said i looked like hell in my comments so ginger said fuck that i’ll prove you don’t. nice guy.

yawning blood shot eye’d opposite of hell after ten rounds of weed, a fish called wanda, mitch hedburg, and the last stressful disturbing thirty minutes of shutter island not to mention sweating profusely from jerk turkey a la hot volcanic sauce plus tandoori maple syrup addition.

oh yeah i was so hosed on my gym date that i couldn’t even recall what we had for dinner. we shared prix fixe, i recall the horrible salad and i remember the creme brulee the size of a dinner plate but in between, no recollection. gym date was aghast over text. JAMBALAYA WE HAD. wow. and no not the jambalaya sunday nite with CHF at harlem underground wow why is ANY of this important even?

so tired could barely open eyes. the light was too bright. i have very sensitive vision. they say bipolars do.

betty you look fucking awful.

bed tiiiiime.

gym dramz. one of the front desk girls went out for a drink with gym date, it went nowhere. i think the other girl innocently informed her about my gym pick-up. girl 2 said she saw him looking around for me last week, saw him texting me and said she was loving alllll of it hahaheheh i love that chick she’s the one who went through the photos with me. i think gym guy dyed his hair in-between seeing and dating me. how perceptive if i’m right. i was diggin’ the grey/pepper hair more though. anyway i hope the other chick gets over her testiness or i was imagining it. i will keep you posted, naturally.

music was being blared couple days ago so loudly i couldn’t think and was forced to smoke part of a bowl before gym-bound and this picture i guess is the birth of that moment in time. i have been listening to broken bells like mental, totally burning through that record.

ok well there you go those would be the beans PARTIALLY OBSCURED STILL. ginger beer plus pineapple ginger juice mixed with sweet delicious dominican rum, riding the tropical wave theme. mini vacation. evil chemical instant coffee cos ginger doesn’t drink it. never had a sip in his life i keep trying to get him to, just to be a shithead and what’s the big deal about it? he already does energy drinks AND i think tricking him into sipping HALF a slushy coffee drink from starbucks counts. i accidentally ordered one at the crack of fuck one morning and was like uhhhhh this is the complete opposite of what i want and thought i was ordering THIS IS WHY I NEED COFFEE BEFORE I LEAVE ANY BUILDING.

gym ninja. apparently i have to get actual running shoes and skate shoes don’t suffice. poll please? these gallaz (globe’s sister) are cushioned, impact-absorbing bouncy to all hell, still not good enough? do i need those dumb nike rocket things or, ugh, new balances? ps. i have had these sneakers since i was 20.

porsche man shades saved my it started to rain overcast life.

johnny from work who used to be fat always schools me about food and protein and won’t shut up about me not eating carbs. yesterday i had to tell him to shut up i wasn’t in the mood. but anyway he says it’s these days we only care what we feel not what we see in the mirror, if i feel bloated then i’ll feel fat and then i’ll see fat. a lot of it is in our heads. given but the way he said it all stoic zen asian-like, it resonated.

sauce concoction. then i smashed one of the 4897 beer bottles on the counter.

final result.

ok my mom and niece are in town i have to sneak in a work out, shower, then fashion bag clothes designer meeting and then somehow hang with them even though i haven’t heard from mom yet. i bet she is pissed i’m not hosting them here (cheapskate) i can’t do it, i have shit to do, i am not prepared. also, hello, parkdale? not happening. i can’t be around to make sure she doesn’t take pictures with every single fucking thing in my room and drive me up the wall.

i left work early yesterday cos i was beyond fatigued and felt like i was coming down with something, throat was hoarse and my head was heavy, foggy, not right. i still feel it’s possible i have something but hoping all my vitamin-intake and working out has my immune system on my side. seems to be working for redhead.

bye-o bye-o, sky-o!

there’s a real world somewhere a good girl lives and breathes

i am so beetlejuice here.

shit show weekend. well not really. i can’t remember half of what i did. thank nerds for technology. cameras. smartphones and flickr. it’s only shit show feeling cos i didn’t work out enough and i’m too old to remember what i did. i was good last night though, in bed by 11.30 and didn’t give in to goin’ out for strung out sundays. i still feel hungover though. OLD.

band names.

probably the least flattering vision of the future photo of me ever. i was just about to start talking (as usual). i have major saturday morning dad hair here. wait, was this actually saturday morning? friday? who’s to know anymore i exist in a realm unto my stupid self.

i used up all the soy at poor john’s, oh right this was the day we woke up without water, anyway, i killed the carton of soy (i try not to have too much dairy these days because i am obnoxious like that)(i was all i need soy or, just give me whatever hippie stuff you have) and said it’s done the girl is like do you need more? i go no but YOU do. her face was just like, what are you?

fuckin’ dynasty that’s what i am.

ahh this dress is so pretty i thought about it all weekend long. i bought two new dresses. i have a dress addiction now. dresses and dates.

i have to stop getting tanked on dates. it’s kind of disrespectful. i go in with no expectations also nervous and adrenaline-ridden so i guzzle them back. at certain points i have moments of clarity like uh maybe this guy IS actually interested and i just blew it. sorry. well i didn’t blow anything i don’t think but you know it’s not exactly proper to be a piss tank. we went to le petit castor after some place on baldwin. after hearing so much about it what are my thoughts? hmmmm. gong show rich people, cougs galore, and man cougs. holy fucking man cougs. i’m going to start making fun of them way more than chick cougs now whom i feel deserve to own their party rights meanwhile you jackass men have been getting away with this nonsense for quite a time now with minimal consequence. a start might be removing your wedding band.

ginger and i had dinner in the distillery then went to the drive-in friday night. WHOLESOME SOCKS LETS DO THIS.

my mom bought these insanity slasher pants for my niece and i. um my niece will be 13 in september. i was last 13 i can’t even do the math right now. anyway they’re meant to be worn the other way but look like leg braces. a little more unassuming backward and if my ass is going to be (will SO be) checked out anyway it’s an extra you’re welcome back there. so, you’re welcome.

i love this skinny mirror. oh man i have some work to do this week. no drinking.

this is the pointiest sharpest building i have ever seen. why didn’t i get a shot from a proper angle? oh that’s right i’m not the tourism board of toronto even though it feels like it a lot of the time.

that’s the darkest rose i’ve had in a long time.

ginger’s a big fan of my retard chair. it’s very flattering. though i can’t help but feel like the slow kid being clapped on the back or getting special attention over it. i dunno. i let him pay me back in dinner. melodie was sad to see the chair go. never fear i’m going to start painting more again and have a show soon. maybe halloween themed at the central and have a costume party. what do you think about that? my liver is already shuddering at the thought.

ginger indulges my take my picture game. it’s nice not to have someone speed roll their eyeballs for once. like guess what asshole i’m working, always, constantly. these good times don’t pay for their fucking selves you know. the people want to know what’s up. insert more defensive complaints here. also fyi ginger and i aren’t banging. why i feel the need to clarify this i dunno. the city assumes i’m sleeping with it so every time a new dude shows up i have to let you know that i don’t know what his wang looks like?

shrimp phenomenal. the “frites” were bullshit mini pieces of fries and they forgot one of the dips. they also brought me the wrong salad after my shrimp. now at the two fuck ups point as a restaurateur i’d send the host or someone over to apologize then comp something, anything. this food snob was not impressed i don’t care if you think that’s bitchy or ludicrous i’ve comped more for less of a screw-up and if you’re a higher-end resto people have higher expectations so try meeting them.

modern art. ooooooooook.

piranhas 3d. go see it. so much gore and nudity. perfect summer slasher flick. some parts are just so extreme and you look at each other like uh, that was a bit much. like the girl getting her hair caught in the prop from the guy mowing his way through all the bodies trying to fight their way out of the water by. gruesome. amazing.

me paying for my coffee at balzac’s who also screwed up. a double americano is not to be poured to the very top. i was given no sleeve or extra cup, it was SCALDING hot and filled to the brim. maybe the guy thought he was doing me a solid by extra-ing up my order but no, a double is two shots then a bit of extra hot water. also trying to maneuver it over to the coffee station through piles of bitchy caffeine-starved elite tourist shitheads was very trying. ginger doesn’t drink coffee so by the time we are finally out of his place and out i’m caffeine free too for the most part (coffee time drip coffee does NOT count) and out of my mind overtired, weak. i joked to this one woman in line waiting for her coffee that people aren’t very talkative while waiting for their coffee which was met by SILENCE and then i’m pretty sure she budded and took my coffee, i didn’t recall her ordering ahead of me. i try to make the best of any situation, i cannot STAND tension so i try to break it with a little quip when i can. sorry assholes lets keep the misery cranked to 11 then happy saturday. in summation, be careful at balzac’s it’s like mcdonald’s scalding coffee lawsuit up in there. still a totally beautiful space though.

what am i doing here? oh this is on our way out for coffee.

so dreamy. i want to live in the distillery then die of boredom 24 hours later. also, friends called, they want their cups back. you can keep them though cos they look so precious.

this is NOT a double americano. this is soup and my shaky wimpy hands almost sloshed it all over the place, my bare legs, a baby! you need to have the sleeves at the counter not across the room through the obstacle gauntlet of chairs and tables and assholes.

oh that’s right we had a walking soundtrack too.

so castle.

he bbm’d WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG. um, READ ABOVE too much to type back right now!

that’s ginger up there. multiple angles blog post extreeeeeeeme.

this pit stop has been adequately covered.

i just want an english cottage with a beautiful kitchen and tons of baked goods like this on my counter. beatrix potter 4evs.

feelin’ my californian dreamy presence large they were (not). guess how much i am feeling YOU?

i want money.

this little part here is in the tommy boy movie when his dad dies and he walks around to a bagpipe-rendition of a song i can’t place right now as someone is blasting garbage music outside.

round two motherfucker.

just kidding.

harlem underground for dinner last nite with curly haired fuck.

oh hi. i ripped the back end out and ate it. is this a crawfish? it was on top of my jambalaya, which could have been way hotter.

meh salad.

summer and my haircut are not friends at fucking ALL.

steamy vision.

i need to start bringing the warhol around my bb photos are kinda garbage hey?

candied yams.

just about blackout drunk here on a date with a dude who picked me up at my bar. i killed this song, will you still love me tomorrow. everyone screamed yes. it was early in the rotation so everyone was geared for a show and that i gave them.

loud cuban music at the ossington and a slew of drunk scottish women in the back room basically interviewed my date and i about one another like a buncha moms it was funny and cut the awkward a little while adding some on top of it. i biked by curly haired fuck on my way and he’s all oh you’re dressed up, i said where i was going (his shitty date bar) so he knew right away what was up. just call me jealousy traps or don’t call me at all. dating is exfuckinghausting i think i need a man break this week.

see you at the gym.