nobody should be like me. I shouldn’t be like me.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441606607/

this month has been pretty trying so without further ado, here is how i handled my february hand of cards last night. i went out to meet a dude at cadillac lounge. i had a hamburger. i haven’t eaten a hamburger since i worked at the central so this might be an indication of how i was feeling at the time. i arrived late by cab even though it’s just down the street. i was a disaster but i looked very pretty, glowing. i do full glam makeup when i feel hung to dazzle camouflage the trash i am feeling. yesterday i felt super white trash and i didn’t want to hear or discuss one single above G-level rating thing. period. no man stress, no drug stress or booze or anything, no fighting no yelling everyone please go away. i bawled my eyes out when i got home in time to decide there was no chance in hell i was making it to the dodgeball tournament.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441606305/in/photostream/

i am even skinnier than this right now. stress sad skinny. i’d post the photo i took of myself last night before i went out but i think people are still too conservative and hush hush about how i post nudes like we dance around it and i dunno, i guess it makes me look insane. i showed one of these pictures to army guy who i met last night (i met him at wolf parade too once prior to this, he doesn’t live in the city so, nothing’s really gone anywhere and i have pissed him off a lot by my paltry jagged methods of flirt correspondence) and in one of my nude photos i’m grinning, teeth showing. i said i looked insane in this one and he said yeah there is something insane about a smiling naked person. he’s really funny and smart, great personality. is totally into messes. he’s been on cnn. house away from the city (appealing) blah blah blah.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5442208720/in/photostream/

the balance of personal life stress to work stress should always be tipped in the favour of work stress. one should always always be stressed out more so by work and consumed by that rather than personal life. when work is your escape from the personal, shit is not good in the hood. i’m feeling this way lately and noticing too many people around me are too. toxic. not good times. i’m pretty much going on a late february escape hiatus once family day is over. i am expediting my passport this week. running away is one of my favourite self-indulgences.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441605709/in/photostream/

when i showed up to the cadillac i cutely jokingly said i don’t want to pay! when i came in looking at the cash tray on the table and the admittance fee sign whatever dumb thing it bore. two rockabilly guys standing there, one on the left says OF COURSE YOU DON’T HAVE TO PAY, LOOK AT YOU! meanwhile rockabilly asshole on the left goes PAY EVERYBODY PAYS.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441605401/in/photostream/

i was kidding because i had already used my debit card in the cab (guys, here is one of my secret shames. i use my debit card like it’s a bottomless cab fare well. i am lazy and gross and disgusting with money. i see this as bad as a shoe shopping addiction) and i didn’t want to take out any money AND i was on a semi-date-hang well, i was expecting army guy to pay for my hangover beer and hamburger. he ended up not doing that, he is not someone to use, i can tell. i was being tested to see if i was a gold digger bitch. my bill was 18, i paid/tipped 23, the 2 of which came from army guy (why am i adding these details???) and i had a grasshopper. the burg was delicious. army guy had just had kraft burger. i was jealous.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5442468744/

so i told him absolutely everything of why i was a mess. i had nothing to lose and i had already gotten what i wanted out of him anyway, his company. maybe that is why i go on so many dates. actually, that is precisely why i go on so many dates. i cannot be alone. you try being alone with myself for 48 hours. 48 hours of non-stop raymi. gaaaaaaaah nightmare. i go through humans like crazy as soundboards because i am a giver, once i’m all empty i have to consume a new person to fill the void again. i am a pleasure seeker and people pleaser. it was convenient that army guy is attracted to hot messes. before i put the word out to head out i had made tentative arrangements to meet one of the pbc up by bloor/keele (why? so far!) at a pub. if things went well with army guy then i would have followed him around a bit more but he was staying at his friend’s condo and i don’t think they’d appreciate us spooning in the middle of the livingroom on the floor. hey what’s going on here? shut up and get out otherwise you are going to be the little spoon.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5442207132/in/photostream/

so army drove me to pbc. he said i was very demanding. we got almost there and then pbc says he’s meeting another pbc member at the dakota. so we turn the fuck around as i texted back omg fuck you i was right around the corner. as we are going to the dakota another text, oh you are? come! we’re upstairs. so now i know i am totally pushing my luck with army guy but its kinda obvs we wanna car hang so he doesn’t mind turning back AGAIN to the pub and unbeknownst to him the pbc member had also said come here first so i can impress my soccer team with how hot you are. challenge accepted. i said super pissed, on way back, ride just turned around 3 times stay there tell team.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441604073/in/photostream/

army and i make out in the car. it was great. he’s a good kisser, i of course, am immaculate. he also tried to mindfuck me into thinking he didn’t kiss on the first date and that all chicks from pof are just sluts or fat so now of course i have to pretend to be a prude. i went in for an awkward attack with my mouth open and then i just hung there embarrassed because i didn’t want to kiss someone with their mouth closed like it was kindergarden. i wanted to die. then we made out. two guys on the sidewalk double-taked me as i passed. my pants were very low and i was very sad skinny and my back dimples were showing. leather jacket and casie’s too small for me black sweater she left here one night. when i show my belly it’s a subtle fuck you to everyone. people have varying degrees of reaction to it that i pretend to not notice. when i wore my pink turtle neck to the beaver and afterward at sandy’s i let it hike so incredibly high it’s practically a tummy shirt what are they called again? belly shirts. these nights when i go out as a wastecase adorable loser sloppy mess with a belly shirt on it’s like i am a magic snowflake of shamelessness and it attracts a lot of tail. a lot. but inside i am dying, i really am. it’s like i can’t control this monster, but i can, and choose not to. not only that, i “turn”. i’m not a bad drunk or anything, i do get lippy. last nite rick said in toronto, no one would shove you like that (pbc got shoved at the dakota by the door guy. this is getting too long already so i’ll have to tell that story later) in scotland or something they’d not do it cos they know they’d get a fucking punch and it’s true. i really do believe that in some certain situations, violence is the answer. i declared at the front of the line that i wasn’t violent. but i could change.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441569901/in/photostream/

this is an unflattering angle but i assure you last night was a skinny night and today i feel positively skeletal. it will not last though. right so, i climb the stairs neurotically, i’m still totally mangled and that one grasshopper didn’t do the trick, i ran out of weed so it’s all complete edge, none taken off and every guy i pass returns my gaze. rick who i met last nite said i look everyone in the eye. i do. so i don’t want this much attention right now at all. i am pub drinking boy’s kryptonite. i was extremely hesitant to go out at all because i know pbc’s fondness of me and it always ends the same and even though i’m needy and selfish and craving man attention i morally believe it’s wrong to take advantage of someone who you know wants you but he’s your friend and you like hanging. there is no solution to this.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5441755871/

i enter the back room. i like this pub it’s cozy as hell. it is perfect. i wonder if all pubs are cozy cos all british/irish/scottish etc people are always hungvoer and therefore always crave a fire and a pie and a pint hahaha firepie. ok so naturaly this table of hot soccer players look up at me as i enter and see me before pbc does, his back is to the threshold. immediately everyone is like, uh oh. the room gets a little more tense. i take the head of the table seat so i can stare at all of them. pbc is spellbound by me, he’s already tipsy which is bad because i get way cuter that way and then i do this thing where i turn the dimples on because i am enjoying being buttered up so fucking much it’s intoxicating it really is i don’t even need to order drinks all that flattery is enough for me. it’s mean and i shouldn’t do it but i do it anyway. for some reason, pbc is in perma-friend placement meaning, we do not get drunk and make out and it is infuriating him which pisses me off and then we fight and bicker. he is also seeing someone he finally informs me so what the fucking shit is that? i am sick of man shit stress liars players all of you fucking assholes look at what you are doing to me. look at what you do to women. not all of you but just the ones i’m attracted to.

exhale. ok i have to go plan a funeral outfit now. things just keep looking up. i think i’ll wear my black jumper i wore the night of the date auction. irony?

tomorrow is valentines day. when someone dates the city and every night is already valentines day for you pretty much you’d think the pressure would be on ten times more so. not to mention i got engaged on valentines day. the real reason it’s so cut throat is because women have to one-up each other all the fucking time. sad really. i think i one-upped everyone enough already and i don’t think getting the cutest richest man will make people like me anymore like how one chick clearly invented a date for herself at the auction to rub our noses in it when clearly the kid with wavy fluffy hair wanted to be miles away from this event. she trotted this boy in front of us, like we cared and the stank of desperation was palpable. we do not like each other at all, she went on a secret movie date with a guy i was semi-seeing on and off, she is a cunt who freaks out on other girls a lot then blogs about how no girls like her. she can’t get along with them because she does something to piss them off then like blacks out on why there’s beef. retarded. anyway i actually wanted to talk to her at the love a heart thing and maybe extend an olive branch, at the very least suss her out but no, she made zero seconds of chit chat with me before eagerly forcing an introduction of her date on me. hi, i am at a date auction event where i am to be auctioned off. because i am singlish. where you weren’t asked to but you came to be smug or something? i bet you would have been sold for a lot of money too. i cannot wait to hear how your valentine’s day turns out.

what am i doing? probably something i really really shouldn’t be.