If you go out in the woods today
You’re sure of a big surprise.
If you go out in the woods today
You’d better go in disguise.
How creepy would it be if I did a dance to that nursery rhyme for Devil’s Night? Hot scary eerie. I should dance for Rob Zombie. We made eye contact all concert long when I sat in the third row for OZZY (with him too!)
aw the rest of that song is ridiculous.
Grabbed a sunshiney nook at Milagro. Tweet flirted with them the entire time. The owner sent us shots of Tromba over with special homebrew chasers made by the owner of Tromba. They really took care of us. Love that resto, always have.
See? How could you not be pumped by this little sprite in your establishment. Know that we are entering into an exciting eating pact adventure together when I sit down and the twitpic games begin. Ariba! I adore great service.
Dropped in on my friends Magic Pony to buy a shirt cos it was so hot out in my fitness jackety thing. Learned there’d be an art partay later and said I’d be back, Kristin didn’t buy it but I sure fooled her. Noel send me those pictures please (our phones died by this time and by phones I mean cameras haha) Hi Anez!
Wuhoo thanks Lomo and thanks for also rhyming with one of my favourite words too!
Poutine from the caddy. I didn’t notice how graphic this photo was when I tweeted it and everyone lost their minds, one reader working for the company that supplies this organic grass fed stuff from PEI. TMI all around Jesus. Had the crispy calamari before that I got them to crisp the hell out of my order, they did and now I have a new favourite in town. Go try it too. I ate every single one.
Then my ears were burning and look who should show up. Mitzi’s was closed (building permit?) and parts n labour, dead. Yeah right I bet he was stalking my twitter feed ha ha.
Back to Milagro. We feasted.
Cupping the last of my taco.
Messy princess.
The cheapest shirt on Queen W you could find in the knick of time. $7.50. XS.
Then we had these steak ones cos we weren’t finished. I can’t remember what they’re called. Hoovered instantly. Also had the guac and chips plus the baja slaw.
Teeny weeny margaritas up-sold to milagro from cuervo, the other ones were too rich for my blood. I was paying. Trying to save right now.
The chaser is: cilantro, lime, jalapeno, pineapple and other stuff I forget. So refreshing. Genius. I could sit there all day taking shots and chasing them. I’ll save that for my Johnny Depp in Mexico phase in life. Andalé!
Classy bottle.
On to the party. I chose the rosco cos it’s a midlake song and I am a dork like that.
Obviously.
The Lomo store is amazeballs.
After all those margaritas I had to wee. Meh.
My favourite Singaporean blogger Xiaxue did this to her camera years ago. She calls crystals/diamonds: diamantes. I love her dialect.
This one was pretty good.
This one launched me into many nostalgic tender northern summertime moments.
I grazed on these greens.
One of the artists, Jason Nip. Sharp dude. Loved his camera pretty much the most, I said it reminded me of Lord of the Rings/the Shire.
His Lomo. Darling, right?
Taking advantage of the lighting. Haha that reminded me of trips to camera stores with exes, standing still pretending I’m unaware of fifty camera geeks photographing me. The hair on your neck pricks up.
They had a band too, drank tickets. Well done party, kids.
My Diana F+ Lomo Camera looks like that cake, which I didn’t realize was a cake and thus handled all over for a few seconds. It’s all marzipan. Which took me a minute to figure out by reeling cake wars episodes through my head.
I really liked her classic desperation ocad student facial expression. Plus her camera rules.
Doot dee doo.
I’m pumped. I already have mastered mystery camera. Heidi has one of these and we’re seeing her tonight. Free lesson!
Saw a chick I see around town all the time but never remember the name of (total artist, in a billion bands) walking out with one of these and stopped her. Bands and film cameras are kind of like a rule right? Thanks Cory Kennedy! No, seriously. Also there were two young boys walking around proudly with their lomo cameras, I was obsessed with wonder about their parents, enforcing film on their youths in a digital world. I bet they are hipsters.
Taking this with me to the beach today.
I take a picture in this spot every year at this time of year. The sun is seasoned, the tail end of summer. That dog ruled.
Really liked this one too.
A holga camera.
Another Holga camera.
My hair is in a state. I was planning to go for a run then go home and then decided to just go as is. I am not a poseur.
Oh hi. Nice boots.
Kay bye!
Espresso long shots at Second Cup and I discovered a match made in heaven.
Louboutins! Thanks Alison!
Air show party. Lotsa people came over it was a bad hangover day for me TBH following our burlesque performance the night before but awesome to roll right back into the party vortex, I had the giggles all day and found myself to be most hilarious. I got to tell Sarah (my bestie from playshcool bro!) the knock-knock joke I had been waiting my entire LIFE to tell her, specifically. No one expected it, their mouths were like this: ‘O’ when I delivered the punch line. It goes Knock knock, who’s there? Sarah! Sarah Who? Sarah chair around here I’m getting tired of standing. She was standing at the time too and I was pulling a chair out. I told you it was a great party!
Those were my grandmother’s binoculars. I spied on the apartment buildings across the way and now I want a telescope. I have a lot more photos from this I’ll blog later. TOO MANY THINGS!
Bahaha wasted still. I was lying in bed going, seriously, this is happening? It’s happening. It’s happening right? They’re coming? My dad was talking about the weather foreceast cancelling the show and I thought that might actually happen lying there with my hangover.
Probably. Travis lyric. You know I partied with them backstage once? Ghomeshi was there too. That was the beginning of him hating me. Radmad and I were in proper form.
Anyway here I am at the age of seventeen on Easter weekend on the BK bridge, visiting my secret older boyfriend and sussing out my future playground. That was an interesting hair period. Also, you may notice the WTC. True I lived there when shit went down, you’ll know that if you’ve been following along. I was blogging then too. (a post from the day before).
Now, it occurs to me that the anniversary of this event is approaching and, embarrassingly, or more appropriately, terrifyingly, the date does affect me. I have been pulverized in thread forums and ridiculed for my ptsd, been bullied into not speaking up about it. I am happy personally that last year was all good, the one before it no, the one before that god no. I received a death threat on one anniversary that gutted me, it was awful, I barfed three times and had to bail on my own event. People were coming, it was a nightmare.
A good friend Sean Ward said to never ever read comments leading up to an event. I pretty much fail in that department. Another blogger has a google alert on her name. I don’t do that, so glad I don’t oh man.
Alright so, I did go cuckoo bananas at one point in time. It is embarrassing to talk about but I am grateful to my family oh so much for being supportive during that time and knowing how to poke fun of it with me despite how painful it really was. My brother is really good at that I love him so much.
My therapist and I talk about it. I am a functioning, capable woman(child ahha) with none too many headcase problems. I am a workhorse hyper-career achieving focused freak though. Screwing up is not an option for me essentially so I can be let loose.
Because of my high-functioning stress levels and I guess, mania, and legitimate stressful events that I keep my head down and just motor through, that stress has the ability to come out in other ways. If I don’t sleep, that’s how it can begin, combined and due to possibly something or a number of things that stress me out, which can bring on an anxiety attack, which I can manage and talk myself out of.
But then, I think about my big mouth, my blog, and get paranoid. Combo of the coincidence of 9/11 and having a personal fear/sensitivity and on the regular paranoia in general sometimes, I dunno, something in my brain is permanently damaged, a screw is loose, unhinged thanks to this little amazing event and my territory online.
Ok I will just spit it out.
After the first plane hit, which I heard, and by the time we got up to the roof black fighter jets were zooming overhead like something out of transformers gi joe and face off, remember, the pentagon was hit too and another plane went missing, we didn’t dream this up. It was magnificent and later suffering ptsd from this moment, gruesome. You think regular people with healthy obsessions regarding war, conspiracy theories… I was not keen on paying attention to anything period. We were sickened by it. For days, which turned into weeks. I lived there for well after. I have stories.
The Air Show, hearing airplanes like that, it makes me feel like I am on the drop zone going down down down doown terribly down your stomach keeps dropping below you taken away from you. I felt this just recently on a less high version of it at the CNE and was morbidly fascinated by going on it over and over and over again with my brother, despite the terror practically puking up out of my throat.
The thing with the air show is it happens every year before 9/11 So I get to be terrified for three weeks. Three fucking weeks I suppress it. It has ruined my life on so many occasions outside of the anniversary though too.
Recently I saw a photo of the falling man. I shouldn’t have looked at it cos it’s that shit that sets me off, but I did and partially glad cos it made me realize there are others like me out there, somehow affected like this. The photographer of that shot for instance. They interviewed him about it. I don’t like to share these details because it’s super exploitation-feeling. He said he saw hundreds that day and captured them. When I hear about people jumping from buildings I have to know every detail about it even though it repulses me.
My number one pet peeve supreme is people wasted at parties at 3 in the morning trying to scream conspiracy theories at me, I tell them to 1. shut the f- up and 2. I do not give a f- which makes them CONTINUE. It never ends well, I end up from dusk til dawning them into regretting their poor etiquette and insensitivities like that. Quite the spectacle!
Blah sorry to bum you out. I now make a point to say nothing on the day of or near to it cos it freaks me out and it never won’t, I also can’t partake or be expected to be reliable for any sort of function either.
Ok I feel better now. I pretty much cried my way through writing this. Oh women!
You can see the Towers behind me in this picture in the distance. They look further than what actually were/felt at time.
Uh why am I blogging this when it’s the very source of my stresspression right now? I have an exact replica installation up in the tickle trunk. Organizing costumes post-show is a bring down. Where is blog slave?
But still, it is a chance to reminisce one more time paha I picture steph unpacking from a weekend camping trip which she always gets the post party emo from too (we are sappy sentimentalists) and unpacking dirty clothes and sleeping bags I don’t think she is as posi about it or gets to be.
You can see my bear costume. I love that thing. Can I wear it like a normal person like, as a hoodie? Then when everyone’s gunned flip the ears up and it’s ewok town.
Stella looks like a fawn. I want to get a new rug for winter. Maybe teacher’s bday gift will be an Ikea date. It’s way less selfish than it sounds, he really likes going and maybe the bonus will be that I actually pay for something? Yeah, a candle. That I get to choose the colour of. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Actually I’ve given the guy two gifts already why am I getting so defensive help agh I dunno.
Uncle Tyler appeared and hung all night long. We successfully made “a happening” saw so many familiar faces I was dizzy. Here’s an email I received yesterday from Tera:
Hello Minx!
I have been reading your blog for about a year now and I absolutely adore your writing style. The photos are fun and definitely keep me entertained but your writing is inspiring and motivating.
I came to introduce myself to you at Bovine Sex Club on Sunday but I didn’t get the chance. I came with 7 Russian boys who were strung out from earlier in the weekend and who wanted to go to the strip club instead because there’s “more action” haha. We left after two acts (one from the redhead and your Gulag dance). I feel sorta weird knowing so much about you without ever acquainting myself to you so next time we’re in the same place please don’t be alarmed if I make a beeline for you with my arm outstretched.
Your summer of Raymi has been fascinating to follow along with. I feel like you have a list of the things that are the most difficult to do (perform in front of people, public speak, network with a ton of strangers) and you make a point to do them. Personally, it’s made me take notice and stop coddling myself like “Oh good job Tera you did the bare minimum today”. I’m going to start doing the things I’m most scared of from now on. I’m going to set my bar high and I’m not going to feel bad about it. It’s good to see that you don’t let other people try to make you feel ashamed or whatever about the things you achieve. I don’t even really think it’s their fault – it’s a result of feeling like shit due to their own inactivity and non-accomplishments – so they have to disparage you to make themselves believe they don’t want your success and happiness anyway. Honestly, it’s quite sad how many people go through life on auto-pilot and won’t even put in the effort to know and understand themselves. Well, I’m going to go weep for the human race now.
Hopefully our next show (devil’s night) we’ll have a few more dancers to have non-stop smut for your ruskie boys. This was a really nice email to receive it makes the mania worth it haha and for sure fight the shy and say hi next time, I live for these dorky awkward moments and cherish each one. Thanks for bein’ a lil raymi. xo
Omg nice face. See how I spilled water on myself, straight off the bat too, a girl smushed into me. The Tornado Labyrinth cavernesque cyclone (redundant) of the Bovine makes personal space, not a thing. LOVE THAT!
This wasn’t a dance (but turned slightly into one) it was us hyping the crowd up for Jasmine, to Slow Ride. We culled from Dazed and Confused, I did a punch of push ups haHAha people were totally impressed by that. Like my palm tree? There’s a flamingo too. Allison texted said I AM FREAKING OUT I CAN’T DECORATE AND WATCH MY BAR. She got her ass handed to her by how slammed it was. Slam dunked more like!
Once I started I was like woah, I actually want to do these right now, how many more can I do then BAM BAM Paddy’s ass comes down on me then I kept doing them. I could hear people cheering over the tune.
That was the first burpee-ish thing I’ve done in wedges. A burpee is a stupid word for push ups from prone to standing, like you’d do in boot camp. See my hawaiian girl mobiles? Good placement Allison. I drew a hilariously crappy diagram of how I wanted the decorations designed. I hope you kept it. You try drawing a flamingo under duress. It looked like a coat hanger.
When I was running through Bellwoods last week blasting daft punk’s da funk I pictured us in day-glo string bikinis and eerie mardi gras masks, dancing in robotic formation. That was going to be an extra thing we did but I think we got the point across with the masks the once. That song begins all urban traffic noises, has a summer vibe and they’re french (daft punk are) and always obscure/hide their faces when being interviewed. I’ve been a fan for years. I rollerskated to this song in Quebec City at 14 in this amazing discotheque with enormous white speakers in the centre upon which the dj spun and rotated with strobe lights, that was an awesome and defining moment for me and as we’ve just had a vacation in Quebec City, I like to insert personal meaning into every thing that I do.
And I give you the amazing Brosz7kowski.
Drinking water. Responsible and professional dancer (for hire too, we do all kinds of gigs) RAYMI@RAYMITHEMINX.COM I plan to dance with this maid marion head wreathe, and my davy crocket hat, and maybe something sinister to the teddy bear’s picnic. I danced behind the bar in this. While not performing I came out in several costume changes and partied with everyone. Devil’s night is going to be OFF THE CHAIN.
SO many photogs!
The Green room. It got so filled we had our own security back there. What a lucky guy he was right? Perfect outfit Tyler!
And him too of course.
She’s such a cute girl.
Our combined tickle trunks are out of control now. Doesn’t take long.
Perfect headband.
I’ve always loved inserting crazy xmas light blur shots to my blog posts never imagined it would be one from a night of my own production and scandalousness.
Yes you’ve seen it, goes with le post. It reminds me to do sit ups and not jump out the window to the burger king drive thru.
This was the summer of bathing suits. In part I thank Tat for giving me grief over my one black ratty string bikini I rocked all of last summer, she was going to send me some suits from a client which ended up not happening but that doesn’t matter cos it inspired me to get ripped and to get new suits. How many do I have, 6?
click to spy. And there’s my toucan! AND PINEAPPLE!
We popped our own bottle of Brut.
The magnum I passed around I had to practise tilting it up, so heavy. Thanks Bob! (thank you gift for taking them to Beady Eye, how do you spell it?)
Air rade Freshman. Though, I’m a Senior. I guess this is an example of what we will be doing to you. Good for a Bachelor party no? Abusing the groom? No problemo.
This was the first and only mask I tried on at the party store there were so so many but I instantly knew this was the one because it was ugly and thus, easier to make beautiful. My cat mask from New Orleans is cute as hell, but not domineering enough.
BRB with more these are just randoms I uploaded cos everyone was showing up for the air show.
Leis. All sumemr stock was put away so our summer party had a specific-specific tie-in. Tiki. It brought back memories of almost setting myself on fire at the 3M party in San Diego in a grass skirt by a fire pit (scroll, that post is hilarious fyi). Everybody loved me PLUS I gatecrashed this party and got Lisa to get wasted with me, and she’s asian. Everyone knows it is hilarious to get asians drunk cos they turn bright red and are a billion times more insane than you, full-on team players and partners in crime. Miss you Lisa, every time I look at a lei I think of you. Honest.
Inventing the term SUMMER OF RAYMI. Outputting positivity so that it comes back to me, think like Paul, the love you take is equal to the love you make. It’s not that I am mourning summer’s end (am so) it’s that some people suffer seasonal affective disorder (or heard about that term and realized that they did) and winter is harder for them. The term alone, no doubt ripped from Seinfeld (Summer of George, which got him in the hospital thus ruining his summer ahahhahahahahaahhaa) justified all ridiculous shenanigans and extra looney things I got up to this summer, by saying YES and being fearless. Declare this upcoming season to be the Fall of you (Autumn sounds much less like your empire is collapsing, do you know that lyric? the falling of the whole empire…) and I guarantee you it will be a wicked time.
Convertible rides with your dad. Any time spent with family and friends. I read recently that it doesn’t matter what you do together, in the end that’s what you’re going to be wishing for most of all, is more time with your parents. They may drive you insane and you may piss them off but by golly just do it cos time with loved ones is precious. Holy f- I better not be pregnant I’m super emotional these days haaha. Anyway, a ride with the folks when I was a tween/teen usually meant I was grounded but now I am like DAD DAAAD DRIVE US AROUND PLEASE!! We can only listen to cassettes which limits our tunes to Beach boys and oldies. Perfect. Plus EVERYBODY smiles at a platinum blonde in a classy car with the top down.
This find alone was worth Burlesqington. It might be real, it might not, but it’s damn classy and I got it for $3 and an old biddy tried to steal it from me off the floor while I was trying on shoes with Paddy whilst another one snapped under her breath THAT’S WHY YOU DON’T LEAVE THINGS ON THE FLOOR when I was frantically combing the store for it and Paddy took it off the other woman’s hands. Good grief right? I whispered to Paddy, did you hear what that woman said to me? I’m in the middle of thinking up something psychotic to say to her (rage was coursing through me, don’t put things on the floor of a %#&$%# salvation army, things that I am intending to purchase????) but Paddy talked me out of it, so I didn’t. What would you have done? Thing was, she effectively burned me, there is absolutely nothing I could say that would make sense in a situation such as this, “YES YOU DO!” while shaking my fist over the sea of mothball smelling merchandise hanging aisle-to-aisle separating us. I’d look insane.
Nipple pasties. Fine, can’t work with my nudity? Solution. Now what argument is next? Luckily we had a spare pair of these on deck so Seska could dance in our showcase. She was already dressed the part, I asked if she would dance, she said no way, then a few songs later after one of us got up there she changed her mind. New rule, have pasties will travel. I would love to be sponsored to go on the road to perform in different cities. GOAL.
Permanently borrowing this belt from an ex-bf who borrowed it from a friend’s ex-best friend. We’ve had a wonderful life together, shared many experiences, for a decade almost. I used to convince myself that it intimidated street urchins when I wore it who might think of trying something with me. (Never be too complacent in a city, folks).
Going platinum. I would never have known blondes have more fun unless I did. It’s the skeleton key of life, opens many doors that I effectively bullshit my way through. It’s not for everyone but it doesn’t hurt to try it. Thanks to Brennen I can try to realize my goal of getting into Playboy by the time I’m thirty. I feel like once it’s mermaid length they will be manipulated by their own genre via me and some hocus pocus about social media and blogging I dunno. I do love being brunette and will likely go back to the dark side at some point in life but not yet.
Ribfest. Was a mega-fun-summer’s end party, the weather was hot and sunny with rain sprinklings intermittently which cooled you off and dried instantly. It’s free to get in. I dressed like a groupie and brought much merriment to all around me. I said to my brother that I would get something for free with my celebrity, watch. Imposing dares on yourself is a surefire way to get your way. I got a full rack. Listen and learn next time munchkins :). Thanks again Ollie of Uncle Sam’s BBQ #1 people’s choice winner!
Buying this lifeguard cutie patootie ensemble and forcing myself to embody sunshine all summer long and have the nards to rock it out. The shorts/shirt two-set will one day be framed in The Hard Rock.
Taking up Shawna on her offer of a blogvertorial hair collab when she worked at another salon, super enterprising of her and pioneerific. Back then no one was ripping off my ADs under the guise of feature posts so it was pretty special, though I was long haired and brunette at the time and cutting my own hair so I offered up my fiance in lieu of, who then couldn’t be cut without her, then I moved over to Brennen when she did and became obsessed with lightening my hair and here we are now.
Brennen is also house to many a platinums in my industry. It’s always a trip going in there for my routine roots work. Hi Keri! Ok that was ten things, I’m limiting myself.
+++
PS. My Speaker’s BIO is up over at She’s Connected scroll for mine.
Raymi the Minx aka Lauren White or, Raymi Lauren, built her brand at the age of 17, spawning raymitheminx.com in 2000. She is a pioneer of blogging and was amongst the small pool of bloggers during its first wave of popularity in 2002, drawing the attention of The National Post and SEX TV. A provocateur savant, unabashed black sheep of the digital age, influencer, trend setter, wordsmith; Raymitheminx.com has been a MUST READ in the Toronto’s hip and in-the-know arena for over a decade. Raymi is on par with media, a notable invitee to all the to-dos, touted as the Penny Lane of Toronto (long time music industry ties), muse to the stars, spearheads a bounty of fellow Little Raymis with copious pop-up copycat raymi blogs…. click for the rest
Can’t wait to see my bobblehead lol. Loving this girl cliquey stuff.
I told myself I was only going to create something original today. I don’t write as much as I used to or ought to, I’ve been a big avoider of “trying” for my entire life. When you wake up everyday to your personal blog radio show with copius tuners-inners reading your news that you get to make be whatever you want, it takes over you. You get in a habit, a lazy routine. Anyway, I’ve been writing a talk in my head all week. When I lie in bed each night I write stand-up comedy that moves between motivational speaking and insulting sarcastic humour, which I forget in the morning. If I can get up and dance and strip, then I best be damned I can get up and make fun of every thing in life. I am terrified of public speaking in a subtle way to be honest. It’s because I am Type-A and I want to control everyone’s attention, focus, manipulate it so that I am at ease. I know you just can’t do that and so, I get nervous.
Speaking of being a control freak, I actually learned something from Jersey Shore last week, I know, I couldn’t believe it either (except I did because how could I have learned from it if I didn’t believe it?) but it happened and I said please remind me that I learned something from Jersey Shore (to later write about).
The thing was, Ronnie the juicehead lost his f-ing mind on The Situation, who slammed his own head in a cement wall cos they were all blasted and The Sitch (Snituation) said something about Ronnie calling up girls since they got to Florence, prior to Ronnie’s ex/current/it’s complicated gf sammi (who I hate, is gross and a mega-drama attention needy wet blanket) arrival and to be fair he said it when they weren’t officially back together yet but still, that is some mega-ass pot stirring when you know this couple’s business is contentious at best and all discussions end in yelling, crying, and swearing. COOL STORY SITUATION!
Ok so after that fight, Ronnie says on camera that he’s a control freak more less and that he has to learn to let it go and know that the things that happen in life that he CAN’T control to just let go, not overreact, or even react or be affected. Period. SO ZEN.
That was the most common, simple and best piece of advice I’ve gotten all year thanks Ronnie! Not that I am aggro bed-throwing level freak out but, it feels that way in my head sometimes from the amount of pressure I put on myself to achieve, get things done, be perfect, fight bad guys, and be loving to my friends and family and look like a Holly Madison Hello Kitty Care bear SO EXHAUSTING. From now on if I am incapable of doing that just little bit extra I am going to stop spinning my wheels about it, cos it gets me nowhere.
Choreographing a bunch of dances, being an effective leader/teacher and not swearing/screaming at your pupils takes patience, of which I have none. Day one of burlesque rehearsal compared to Day two for me, in-between watching Jersey Shore was like SALT and PEPPER. Day one burlesque: Psycho – watch Jersey Shore – Day two burlesque: Not a Psycho. For example: if that girl isn’t going to listen to me for the 50th time then she can just go ahead and be sloppy, it doesn’t affect me, I’m not her, so just let it go and focus on making my act perfect. No one is going to listen to me if I am shrill, even though I am right, all they hear is OMFGG&^$%^#&^$*!!!!! Therefore, chill dude. Its taken me 28 years to learn this so anyone else out there who presently barks at people and loses their cool way too soon, take it from me, it’s not working!
Kay, so I will be a speaker on an upcoming panel at the ShesConnected Conference late September (SO STOKED!) which is why I’ve been walking around like the profound blogfather in my head. Initially I thought I was doing a talk, but am glad to know I’ll be on a panel with others having a discussion. I really enjoyed the panels in San Diego that FORD sponsored me for at Blogher. To be amongst strong, intelligent, creative women with start-ups, their own www-domains from all over Canada and America, I was impressed and inspired and I actually learned something, or, allowed myself to be taught (we get stubborn as we age).
Now, being the creature of self-defense that I am, naturally I have been preparing my comebacks in case some woman decides to call me out in front of (omg I just got butterflies in my stomach and lightheadedness in my head from this, excitement fumes) 200 professional women regarding my Raymi the Minxing. You know, mean girl shit. I’ve blown a panel before, well, it went fine and all but afterward on Torontoist, Sass and I got railroaded to smithereens by jerk pundits for a few days. I never linked the article here as half of population Raymitown Hatesmetown and I am too sensitive somedays to be abused, I don’t care WHAT the issue is, no one deserves that.
I will not be backing down from my stance on internet nudity however, specifically that of my own. I refuse to allow my fellow gender to paint me as a sloot because I have the bravery to, this. I know my own frenemies paint themselves like angels and big bad Raymi The Minx as DANGER, don’t go there. That’s fine. I choose realness. In life you must take risks, I will speak into my microphone, everyday is an opportunity to take a risk and I have taken many, how many have you taken? How would you like me to judge one of those risks, that perhaps may have failed like an etsy shop no one purchased from? Or stupid meme posts you keep trying to make happen that make you look ridiculous? I’d rather show my tits thank you. I’m a closet-feminist pushing a boulder up a hill for eleven years this November, I have broken every single rule or tip regarding advertising in this little niche market, being “safe” and pandering to the corporate sponsor blabbity blah and STILL I succeed so you tell me this, how can I be wrong when I’m so right? It’s just funny to me that you must mind your p’s and q’s for an advertiser so then you do and then your blog takes a dirt nap in the area of BEING INTERESTING, less readers, but the advertiser is pleased. Dumb dumbs! Getting lost in the corporate arena for too long waters down the blogger, over-saturating their blogvertorials, which makes the blog even snoozier. Ghost town.
I have single-handedly made a business out of my personal life, the lines are blurred some days for me on work and play, I like that. I have stuck this out for 11 years and earned this make believe fairytale and now I have to stop swearing they tell me? F- That. Cover my bewbies? Don’t share my washboard stomach I exercised like a maniac for so that I can gain the respect of some lady who will hate me for something else anyway?
Totally getting off track here, in my head when I have a verbal takedown real life things like being interrupted by a mistress of the house or something don’t exist or won’t happen so I get to ramble on forever until I make the one point I was trying to make the entire time (someone gave me some nice advice once, less craze more phrase. Tighten and wrap it up!)
I choose to make waves in life. I am not going out unnoticed no siree. If you want to have an ethical debate on rights and wrongs re: the sex industry, strippers, drugs even, then lets go (actually lets not I hope this moment in time never happens and that I am not conjuring it right now with this very post) cos I have many friends and know many notables who have dalliances and secrets, double lives, of which you would never ever know yet would castrate them for (figuratively) at a dinner table after too much wine like an insultory desperate bully might because you make their personal choices about you.
People have made my nudity about them for years. And years. It’s so dull. It takes a lot of courage to do what I do you know? I have black sheeped myself, I didn’t really think or plan ahead with this blog thing back in 2000 (when you had nowhere near anything remotely close to an online presence, nor would for many many years to come so ‘spect son) and then come 2002 I started showing nudity. Tasteful in my opinion, Never a spread-eagle, or graphic muff, never the money shot, just tits and for conservative Toronto that was too much. 100 bloggers in the city, the huge majority being men, all conservative (sports, tech, politics) and then one Raymi the Minx. I deduced early on how to get an audience. I came on to The National Post’s radar as well as Sex TV.
The only reason I showed my boobs was because I was proud, proud of them and fearless. Why can’t I? I had moved back to Toronto from Brooklyn (and in between Maine) and was the granddaughter of the Nerve/Vice-era. Nerve.com was all sexy artistic photos and everyone started caring about fetishes like, S&M and Suicide Girls was also happening too. So it was safe for me to do what I did, but still chastised for. Guys would tell me I was the topic of party conversations and girls would just ask, “BUT WHY? WHY DOES SHE SHOW HER TITS?”
Seriously why not? I’m a nudist, I wasn’t meant to wear clothes, also, I am lazy, it makes sense. Another reason is I was an online model at the time which is fancy speak for webcam girl. I stumbled upon a lucrative part time job, it came after my blog, then I transferred my new-found sex appeal over to my blog. Why do I need to keep this a secret? I was rebellious and defiant, I told people IRL what I did for a living and the last week of shifts after I quit I said I am going public on my blog about this, then you’ll see the gem you had on your hands (the work atmosphere had escalated into a bit of a hostile scene) YOU WILL SEE.
So I logged onto the ol internet and said to my little Raymis that This is my job, linked the website, gave the dates and times of my last two shifts and invited people to come watch me.
The amount of traffic crashed the servers like bananas, the bandwidth could not support the army of Raymis it was f-ing awesome. To be right, vindicated. Not to mention seeing chat handles like MINX4EVER and ILUVRAYMI33 and so on. It was like what p0rn stars must feel when they win an award at that thing in Vegas, like, to see a chick victory bawl over her DP-scene, H-I-L-A-R-IOUS. The AVAs?
Moving forward, if I began to care what people thought about me and took it to heart, I wouldn’t be Raymi The Minx I’d be a big ol mess all the time also, might I mention that when you talk shit about me, I win. Lady Gaga went as a dude as her latest publicity stunt and it worked. I haven’t even seen it but I have heard about it 20 times since. As long as the lady is on your lips, it is working. She does it so you will talk about it so talk but remember, when you’re throwing stones don’t forget to throw one at your own house. Apparently the stunt was too awkward, but no matter it made headlines. Be a little red faced but keep your chin up, that was a risk and last I checked Lady Gaga is an icon. Rrrrright. Connect the dots people, if you don’t make waves in the water you might as well not swim.
It’s called schematic. I can’t help it if other women felt the urge to stroke their wild sides and so find solace in living vicariously through my adventures, which I partake in purely for myself, my pleasures and/or passions like a firecracker in the night. I’m simply just a bad-ish girl who tells you about it. How many bad boys do you love? Assholes? Yummy more please. So stop bashing on your fellow sister fighting the good fight. Was it just not the other day a bunch of topless women courageously protested and took down a streetcar? Why can you be proud of that with a clear conscience? But you know what, I actually oppose tits in a park cos children could see and my blog isn’t for children, I know this. It’s up to you to have parental blocks on your computer lord knows my blog is blocked all over the city I’m surprised people can still get to it what is this Egypt? (too far?)(who cares it’s true censorship kills!)
When the ball dropped the other day and I had a moment of clarity, an a-ha! moment one might call it, regarding this stinkin’ blog and all the accolades and abuse its wrought, I air high-fived the living room in victory to myself.
What’s next for ol Raymbo? I don’t know but bring it on.
My next risk will be enjoying my life, being grateful, loving my friends, enjoying them and chilling out. I can’t save the world but I can save myself. I am entering the new age. Maybe I’ll go buy some crystals. Oooh good point, my next risk is stand-up and nailing it. I just need to figure out how offensive I can go without being burned at the stake.
LOOK FOR ME DURING NUIT BLANCHE HERE I’ll be belting out Smells Like Teen Spirit over and over again until I throw in the towel. Gonna be wicked. The Juicebox kids invited me as a notable, we habitually engage in intermedia fuckery together (they also won a yacht fishing trip on my uncle’s boat at my 10 yr anniversary party) so I know it’ll be a slam dunkeroonie. I’m going to dress exactly like Kurt. Or maybe polar opposite and go Tinkerbell.
The above video is about 3 or 4 in the morning at the Central and I am balls to the wall obliterated, Teppei is on drums, clem is filming it and there are girls dancing all over the place. Meredith’s comment upon watching this was, how’s that feel? must feel great! It did and does. My tights are all slashed here and this was after a shift I believe. Good times that bar, my Kingdom for 8 months. The shirt is a gift from an internet admirer, it’s from UO before anyone else wore puffy sleeves, before they arrived at H&M or Lady Gaga’s adoption of it. FTW! ME!
SEE YOU SOON!
Hey Raymi!
We’ve met a few times through Exclaim / Torontoist / Juicebox. And we
won a trip on your uncle’s fishing boat last winter at that Wrongbar
party.
So we have this thing that started as a joke a few years ago and now
it’s real: we’re doing an art instillation for Nuit Blanche that
consists of us performing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” over and over and
over again for 12 hours.
It’s happening at the Toronto Underground Cinema (Spadina and Queen).
Nuit Blanche is Saturday, October 1, and runs from 7pm to 7am.
We’re looking for a few BIG NAMES!!! to come by and sing one or two
reps of the song. In return, we offer the opportunity to be a part of
something outrageously stupid.
Any chance you think this is bizarre / funny enough to get involved?
The plan is to have “notable folks” sing at the top of every hour. We
don’t need a firm commitment, since it’s obviously kind of a
clusterfuck of an idea, but if you’re in town, planning to walk around
that night anyway, and want to throw your name into this mess, let me
know. We’ll iron out details closer to the date, and if you can’t make
it or just end up not showing up… It’s fine, since we’re playing the
song 144 times no matter what.
