I took a lot of pictures of myself on our way to Teacher’s folks.

It is a long drive and I was nervous but mostly knew I wouldn’t be taking many pictures there, plus my mom wouldn’t be there to take over for me in that regard so car glam shots it is.

Neighbouring motorists I am sure were perplexed but too focused on driving like maniacs to notice. You could feel the energy of other cars I know that sounds fruit-loopy but, everyone was so aggressive and careless in their Christmas driving manner, it was unnerving to be on the roads yesterday which we were all over as we went to Oshawa and back again to Burlington. Thankfully the roads weren’t slick.

My hands are frigid right now as I type this I should be wearing my new texting gloves aunt Alison got me. Ok I am wearing them now for real. Ok I took them off. I’d need to cut off the rest of the tips to have computer texting gloves which I am now referring to as sexting gloves.

I love any shade of pastel. That’s the word I mean right?

Mom got these candles for everyone. Everyone but me.

Supes blurry. My phone takes a warning shot first then it clears up. Annoying. And the first one (which is blurry) is typically the best posed photo and that is why I use both. Here is a hot blurry one of me and here is a clear scary one.

I invited us to Florida for march break lol. They’re only in town for a few days not long enough to justify turning this bad boy on unfortch which was my secret request (demand).

I was chilly and the only one dressed like a figure skater in my previously mentioned shirt-turned-skirt black sparkly dress (pics to come, no big deal) so I changed back into snowflake princess. I am going to be needing more of these in solid simple print. I feel like I will be wearing teeny harajuku outfits from Pacific mall from here on in. I can’t believe it fits. Shirts for skirts in 2012. I wear that black le chateau shirt as a dress too. Must get mini black booty shorts like Bunny Angora said.

Smoker. Blarf.

We had a heel tutorial/demonstration in the foyer on stilettos with Teacher’s aunt. She tried these on, a size too big for her but all ladies love their heels that’s for sure. I am a pro at walking in them now (almost).

Here I am probably saying holy smokes get it right.

Scary fierce.

Bumpy ride (unable to get a steady macro crisp close-up) but I bought all my gals glitter top coat from sephora like this. Possibly the scene of the crime where I lost mom’s $100 Zara gift card :(. Or Le Chateau. I am an idiot. It was taken out of my bags (who does that?) or I left it on the counter at Sephora, or Foot Locker. I was very upset while wrapping everyone’s gifts, the ones that made it out of the mall haha and so everyone was gifted to the crappiest manner of gift wrapping ever and to make matters worse there was a massive shortage on wrapping paper too. Everything more or less looked like my grand gingerbread house failure. Whatever. I left everything to the last minute as usual, well no, last year I was better, more organized but, as much as I have been a Christmas groupie this year I have never cared less for adequate Christmas preparation before like a husband shopping on Christmas eve getting unwanted bullshit for his wife. It’s just like any other time I come home to see the family, down to the wire, messy, frantic, late, but plus presents this time. I don’t want to be making a habit of it and one of my resolutions for the new year is to be more organized and punctual.

I love this dining room hutch of my grandparents. The table too, very much sentimental worth and real, my grandparents filled their house with nice things. So many Sunday dinners were spent in each other’s company sitting at this table and we still use it and reminisce. I like seeing their stuff on the hutch and using their fine china. Ps. don’t put it in the microwave cos it’s lined in silver lol.

Also posing beside it brings out my minor Scandinavian roots, the blond hair and the wood. My imp starts to show and I serve beer in the steins seen behind me. Das good ya?

Last crazy face one. The purpose of these is, this is my face in broad daylight and it is 28 years old. Uploading these was a majorly annoying process, so out of order and my mum keeps texting me. Anyway I guess that I am face obsessed because of my blog. When I started doing selfies, no one else did. People were polarized by my nerve of doing that. Obviously years have passed and I am not 21 anymore. Teacher said when you say what they say about you (back at them) it’s called a Harlem Renaissance. So when people say I am a trainwreck and then I say it too, I am taking their label and making it my own, which we both know I do not agree with. It’s a matter of fucking with people. If they say I am old looking and then I post pictures of my face (which doesn’t look so old) it’s a Harlem Renaissance. How poetic. It’s celebrating who or what you are despite their bashing of it.

And since we are on the topic, I know I am prettier than whoever the person is calling me ugly anyway because anyone prettier than me wouldn’t even bother. I never said I was pretty, you said I was ugly and I vehemently disagree. You aren’t owning up to your end of this by showing us what you look like so I automatically win the pretty war you waged.

My mom cannot help herself. Hailey got one too.

Mom I will post your heart necklace later.

I uploaded way too many photos and I want a break. Happy times excellent!

At this point I hope it never snows. Bring on summer!

RECYCLE! Ha.

Go long!

Melodie!

Fun night on the toooown.

Hanging with Melodie and the fruits of our conversation hangout drinking pints labour I equate to an afternoon at OCAD or something. There are funny people in this city and we are two of them.

Super meaningful gift from my sister.

Gwen Stefani bathroom if No Doubt never took flight.

She insults every facial pose I have. Melodie has a princess hate-on. It is always war.

Taro! Light delish and what hipster nachos come from.

Taro nachos at gladstone we flirted with all three servers (girls) cos they could tell we were their kind of retarded, one even brought out a taro for us to see where these chips come from. I caught Mel up in all things Raymi. She said I was calm. Bahaha. A calm mania.

Melodie has come to the light side and when we were chirping all night long and she started in on calling me a princess I just stared at her blonde hair and kept ripping right back in to her. We had lots of bones to pick and are kind of addicted to fighting. We went to her local punk bar cos it was Oi night. I put on my docs. My Fred Perry shirt would have been trying too hard. I def ditched this coat too.

Oh pouter. Teacher wants to move/rotate that couture painting so I think we should give it to Hailey. Giving stuff away from the house is so dirtbag but she loves all my hipster stuff. I am going to give Hailey a garbage bag full of stuff I never wear I bet my mom will go through it with her like wolves. Cannot wait. Teach got her a bag aww.

Ska minx nails in this bathroom would be a nice picture.

Christmas cards make me feel like I have accomplished something in life, track and field ribbons?

Cute. Love you dudes. Your Christmas card is this photo of your, christmas card.

This shirt is still kickin it. Casie has one too. I’ll dig up that post of us at the metropolitan partying in our hotel rooms in our matching gear.

B+.

Much better.

Adventurehouse!

My old foyer/vestibule.

We liked her hair. Melodie and I chat-bomb strangers or shy cuter younger girls who stare dopily at us (or me)(mostly me I am the prettiest)(god you know I am joking right) and then we are like hi and they are like hey and then that’s about it, I take a picture and give them my calling card and then the Raymi Army grows one Hello Kitty ruby point larger.

Cornering them on the stairs is a good tactic. I am also a fan of the fly-by compliment. I like your hair works as well as, I used to have your hair.

Mel looks like ageyness deyne now. Is that how you spell it?

Bechnique is presently battling the jungles of Texas. Are there jungles there? Anyway I look forward to my new rattlesnake head snow globe very soon. Do not smash it on the way here. She also said rattle snack gallbladders get ground up for their special properties. America is a weird place.

Red light, another vortex. It was a goodbye best friend toilet paper night.

My head is the shape of an alien acorn. I jumped on Melodie’s bed and declared that I was an acorn. I waited in silence and no laugh. Fuck you guys! I mean Merry Christmas and good luck.

(Dad this blog title is for you).

HI BEST FRIEND TOILET PAPER.

117. Do I have to make a video to prove that now too?

Ah gad. You can pay by debit now. I am going to order so much shit now. I have never had a credit card in my entire life. I am a baby infant why do you even read this thing?

I am on a strict fast food diet and I highly un-recommend it. I wonder what garbage we will feast on today.

I have the most crazy insane story to share about a woman who screamed at me all dinner long at shoeless joe’s and threw food at me, she was drunk and insane, but that sneaky kind of insane when you’re not sure and in the end you figure it out. I was fuming and starving. Would you tap a sleeping lion? Well she did. I had been getting slammed all day by haters then we went to that garbage restaurant to slum some wings even though the last time we were there we were so humongously dissed I told the owner’s wife we were SO not coming back and meanwhile the guy is playing pool and watching this entire shit going down and doing nothing. I didn’t flip out because I knew she’d skip out on her tab so i gave her my card and said I might write about this incident and you might learn something about it, she was screaming at me that I was a whore, a stripper, my hair dye job made me a zanza (she meant zanzibar the strip club) we stayed in the bar vicinity longer while I screamed at her like Skeletor that I would destroy her and she fucked with the wrong woman. She is the one who should have been evicted, it was a pride war too like I am not leaving this booth that I love because of you so that’s why the yelling was prolonged and I inevitably had to cave. COOL SERVICE! I thought about how violent and lippy I could get without being charged. She THREW FOOD AT ME and then said I threw food at her, we had no food to throw and didn’t even get drinks yet. Impossible. I didn’t make a stink to get anything comped from that owner cos I knew I would rip them to pieces on the internet instead. I was seething and shaking with rage all the while this piece of human garbage (who turns out left behind jail papers, IS a thief) spat vitriol at me and made us afraid like the dude she was with might beat us up, or take Teacher and therefore I couldn’t spit on her. She had her pint in her hand and I knew she would slosh it on me, she held it wobblingly menacingly. I was like is this happening?

We went to the other side of the restaurant and she continued her tirade. She was on a date in there earlier, that dude left (rejected) and she cozied up to a stranger, desperate and gross, who was rubbing her fat stomach that was out in the open when we sat down by mistake right there and she looks over at me sneers and says JEALOUS!? In this drunk and skanky sailorette voice. I stared fire at her while she continued talking at me. I was rage level starving already and we had a nice walk over together and were happy about our decision to drink hurricanes on wing night.

And I actually wasn’t going to write about this incident because I have been shrouded in negativity lately it is making me sick. I live tweeted all of it cos I was just flabbergasted. A lush came in, her kind of person, they shake hands and then I watch and hear her loudly cuss me out to this new guy. Unbelievable. No one is doing anything. I already know and have a complex that I set people off. I already screamed at her that she was a cunt and should do some sit ups and to KEEP EATING (she had food all over her mouth) and got up in her face, a table of frat boys all got up to watch it, it felt like the restaurant was on our side but I wasn’t sure because still no one was intervening other than the bartender, and just barely.

And so, like in every situation like this, I turned in to my brother. I slipped my last business card in to my pocket, I went to the bathroom, I informed teacher I had some unfinished business to attend to. You do not fuck with the minx and get away with it. I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to do this and all signs pointed to danger and red flag but I am not a pussy, I was shaking from nerves and adrenaline while I washed my hands in the sink in that shit hole bathroom. I walked up to them, pressed my card into the bar in front of her and said now I may write about this blabbity blah and I’m better than a stripper I am a burlesque dancer. The dude had already apologized to Teacher in the bathroom, I made him follow along behind to investigate, so I walked back to our table, took a deep breath, turned around and marched over to her. She had her pack of smokes in her hand put it down, picked up my card and smushed it into her dip. She was previously making fun of me saying I was a writer.

So, I said in to the back of her head You should totally read it, I’m not sure exactly because I was in the middle of punching her! The very thing I didn’t want to do. It was a teeny charlie horse, meant to be a tap like hello because she didn’t look at me once but was going bwah bwah bwah or something. The beauty was, everyone ignored that I did it but so must have known. She went bananas of course but no one had her back, like I knew they wouldn’t. She screamed for a solid ten minutes all kinds of hysteria about me to the bartender while I watched smugly from the diningroom and every time she barked at or lunged toward me I cupped my hand to my ear and pretended I was deaf and confused. And then they dragged her ass out of there. And then they brought her papers over and I took multiple photos of it and then my server said who cares I am quitting after the holidays. At certain points I was mulling over whether we would dine and dash but I didn’t want to screw over this kid. So I gave him a big tip instead.

Don’t scream obscenities at people in restaurants and leave your jail papers behind. Teacher said to her to get some self esteem, she was queen of the bar before we arrived and then felt threatened, I didn’t even have a chance to give her stink eye, my ass was not in the seat 2 seconds (I am not even exaggerating) before she screamed JEALOUS!? at me.

Then I went home to more haterade from the internet and woke up to some more too.

Peace!

Kay so this dude, a teacher dude, scholarly professor type (educators seem to be a big Raymi Groupie subset of people) taught a portion of his course on me some time ago (yes for real). I don’t know anything about school (was that the right terminology, course?) because I am the golden child who has floated in a cloud bubble blogging from outerspace free of having to learn anything more, we cannot possibly teach her anything more! Is what they said, set her free in to the world and we will study her instead!

And that, Little Raymis, is what they did.

__________________________

Hullo Raymi,

Sorry to take so long answering your question; got a little caught up on a project. So, here are the answers to your questions:

>>Raymi: how many students failed raymitheminx 101?

Well, all and none. The class introduced upper class and graduate journalism students to blogging as a medium; they had to create their own blogs to pass, which they all did. By a coincidence, all the students were female. All of them envied you your voice; you have an unmistakable style as a writer, a photographer, and — unusually and interestingly — as a photographic subject. In fact, the only person I can think of who was consistently successful as a model and a photographer was Tina Modotti, who modeled for Edward Weston. So they all passed the class, but I was disappointed that they all chose to do more basic “news” style blogs — they stayed where they felt safe.

>>Raymi: Oooh email the question if u can remember ill get my readers to weigh in, myself included

I do remember the question, partly because I keep asking it as I read you. And partly because there is no “correct answer;” so I change my mind about it all the time:

They all blogged answers. Suffice to say there was no consensus. I’ve always wanted to hear your answer.

Ok, here goes.

Firstly, I was flattered that they envied my voice, which, truth be told, is addictive cos you keep listening and then I say something deep profound and insane and it takes you away. Maybe if I talked about nicer things with this incredible voice people would be cooler with me?

No Raymi is definitely not performance art, I am a shitty artist. I’m not bad I just half-ass my talent and that’s probably why I didn’t bother with University. I am super lazy and I figured out that being hot would help me get places and do the work for me so I put effort in to that. Call me vain or narcissistic but look at everyone who is famous, are any of them ugly? If they are then they got there someway by perhaps nepotism or they’re just super talented. You don’t need to be all of everything 100% you can have portions of various qualities and smush it all together as one. I pay attention to detail, I am thoughtful, considerate and articulate. I have been on the internet since I was a teenager, ahead of the curve or just right alongside there with the over achievers, and adults.

I am a cunning little minx and everything I have learned I taught myself, that real life experience shit. I chose the other door so, I have spent the majority of my formative life on the internet, more than the average person has. I am conversational on it as a result.

I am fiesty in real life like I am here Raymi and Lauren there is no difference between the two, one just gets a little shier in the limelight. I never stop, this blog does not stop when I am not blogging. I am a thinker and always scheming. I see opportunities in every corner, in every hate email, dance floor moment, person in the street. I take chances and I am fearless when people think I am being crazy and yelling at someone in a bar I have actually quickly on the mark sized up my opponent and methodically calculated that if I pounce there is an overwhelming chance in my favour that I come out unscathed. That is the type of person that I am and it shows on my blog.

My bark has bite and I likely have a teensier bit more testosterone than the average bird so I can make cheeky game moves and because I am an obsessive entrepreneur here I am constantly chugging out material/life/content at a frenetic pace that if that crazy thing I did back there was too retarded, we have already carried on to the next thing.

I am not here to be anybody’s hero other than my own. A lot of people read my blog because I am good at making them stay and come back for more, whatever those polarizing reasons may be, so then I get to say all kinds of verbose ego-stroking things and get shit-faced with my friends and brag about it because I know they’re here watching waiting and loving it. I am not hurting anyone I don’t feel and the more the merrier, I enjoy all walks of life, freaks, geeks, who cares just be nice. I only ever blow up when attacked and/or provoked, which is constantly.

In summation, the only time this is performance art is when I go out and conquer a fear even though I am shy and dying inside I force myself so that I can blog it because I would hate the type of person I’d be if I was afraid all the time and you don’t get anything done that way. There is a reason people get rewarded for public speaking, or paid to do it, all kinds of bloggy things out there. Diva Raymi is real too, that’s who I am right now. I’m a showgirl, an originator and entertainer, nice to meet you.

I created this monster and now I must slay it!