Hi again it’s me your friend!

Lets just get right to it kay?

Stand-up joke I wrote yesterday, maybe possibly the most useful thing I did (aside from exercising then getting drunk on one glass of wine at dinner #lightweight):

A squirrel just watched me doing squats. Seriously watched me seriously into it. I need to adequately describe the moment with detail so that you get the humour of a squirrel watching a human do exercises.

Fuck it can’t be bothered.

He was a chubby squirrel, and cute, round, like they all are. Grey. He was eating something and staring at me, mesmerized, no, hypnotized!

I was squatting with my blue weights, which probably caught his eye or maybe my workoutfit did and the sun beating down into my window on me. I did a good twenty squats or so before realizing I was being watched.

Then all these thoughts flooded into my head about my life and maybe if I had one I wouldn’t be in a situation where squirrels were watching me all the livelong day. I could transcend squirrels and be watched by people, people wearing clothes going to jobs and living their lives. That fucking squirrel took me into the eye of myself and back again, shook me to my core that squirrel did.

The funniness of the situation struck me because we made eye contact and he knew that I knew that he acknowledged me as a living, breathing, being that day. He noticed me. What was he thinking man I dunno he’s a fucking squirrel he doesn’t care, he doesn’t “get” “it” nothing even matters to him and here I am having an existential crisis because my brain is eating and starving itself from this psychotic diet I am on and when you work out your mind is open and free like a desert.

If snow wasn’t everywhere right now I’d just go out running instead of trying to write humourous anecdotes about dumpster diving wildlife.

But so what! People love this crap. At least I think they do.

When I chose to write about my “laundry nemesis” years ago, the blog readers DIED for it. To this day I have Little Raymis referencing my laundry wars. It’s like the Seinfeld syndrome. People really relate and appreciate NOTHING. Your friend tells you a long drawn out story about an encounter in line at Starbucks and because your friend is funny and a drama magnet, this story has to be going somewhere right? Nope! Doesn’t have to and that’s the beauty you can take it anywhere when your brain is a non-stop running life dialogue and any person with the misfortune of getting into your hemisphere is granted their fifteen seconds. Lovely.

But anyway that is how you squeeze material out of a squirrel I guess I mean that’s how I just did it. Were any of you stroking your chins thinking “maaaaaaahvalous I just love these little pointless stories of whimsy..”

OR should I run down everything I thought about seeing Saul (Better call Saul fame!) on Jon Stewart as well as my opinions regarding Kathy Griffin and her Fashion Police show, more importantly, Kelly Osbourne’s mohawk (which she only seems to have done once?) God it’s so easy to just think, talk, and consume shit. Why is trash tv so easy to suck you in? Don’t answer, it’s rhetorical.

I also checked out some Louis CK last night and any time I watch stand-up comedians I study absolutely everything about them. Must be nice to be in your stride and never fuck up. I noticed in the audience that all his fans, the hefty white dudes particularly in the audience all sit with their arms insecurely crossed over their stomachs. It was distracting me from his material (of which I have no memory because I was hosed on only one glass of red wine which is the second time I have told you now and I am most definitely drunk still probably as well as sleep-deprived which means brain scrambled my favourite time to blog) but anyway, clearly my future stand-up fanbase will be comprised of look-a-like me’s I cannot wait.

Like how Gwen Stefani said at No Doubt shows the audience is full of Gwens. Her ego must be through the roof, sorry but you didn’t invent platinum hair Gwen or wearing tons of makeup with red lipstick but you certainly look the best at it so fine, you win.

I’m totally listening to Fashion Police in the BG right now. So jealous I want a job where I can just talk shit about everyone all day and say, “excuse me” “thank you” when I point out fashion flaws. Actually, I’d rather target the hosts instead because I don’t think you can make fun of women on the red carpet when your own old lady chicken under arm skin and multi-lined armpits are hanging out of your over-sequined dress and your hair is fourteen different tones of orange and blond, Kathy.

Or how Kelly absolutely fellates anyone who is “hot right now” who appears on the carpet no matter how stupid their look actually is. Ooh my blood is boiling she just made a dig about Jennifer Aniston’s boobs seeing red gotta go, I have given enough of my brain to this already. Thank you bye.

Bonus joke from yesterday: Neverland Ranch sauce frachise. Boom.

One more thing, I sent a body update (nude) photo to “my future/new boss” and was asked if I had a trainer which I interpreted as NEED a trainer because I am a blob and was suffering internally from an identity crisis (as usual) this whole time until the clarification thumbs up/good work email came in. Time for some sit-ups!

Have a great Friday, come help me pack.

Yo!

How’s it goooooooooing?

Me? Good, bad, ugly. Same old.

When you are the curator of a blog, it’s like running a colouring book. I mean, I spread myself around the webs a lot all day all night and comment all over the place, leaving zingers and slinging mud left right center, time well spent. Sometimes after a bender I’ll go back to jezebel and have all these notifications for all this crazy shit I said and feel super proud of wasting the entire fucking day prior being obnoxious to feminists – it’s called community building and outreach. I have been reading that site for years and years, I don’t really see much difference between the two of us. I mean, doesn’t everybody think they are right all the time on the internet, isn’t that why we are all here?

Anyway, if I had a jezebel site that I could easily just have based on all the online sleuthing I do, mine wouldn’t be wild click grabbing insanity with news slants intended to make a flame war in each comment thread.

I think my big mouth alone causes that organically and naturally to occur. Like when I expressed my feelings on bachelor parties when the hangover came out, boy that was a good one. Check it out all the original comments are there too still.

And I looked like that. I do not feel the same way I felt back then. So much insecurity wrote that blog post and other things I am too nice to mention.

Everyone seems to be killing time on Facebook these days all with their wrong opinions about stuff I know more about it feels close to time to be Perez fucking Hilton.

As smart as I am, I am well-obsessed with really stupid things like celebrities, celebrities with addictions, viral internet things, any of the previous with sex involved, musicians, musician’s beefs with other musicians and of course trying to get the attention of all of the above.

I think I just described everyone else on the planent just now.

When I worked in an office we would hunt through buzzfeed and be like, did you do that mermaid quiz yet? Okay well after that you have to do the which is your favourite pickle quiz and then read the latest update on the missing Malaysian flight plus there’s leaked nudes of blabbity blahh and so on.

Sometimes I get so entrenched in this garbage I lose all energy and won’t produce shit that day. My mind expands though, and I “know” “everything” and like with blogging many years ago, which justified all the partying and reckless behaviour I engaged in I always, always wrote as well as blogged because I felt that it made good with the bad. I preached to my friends that if I was wasting my youth I was going to at least account for and profit by it. SO now, if I insist upon online benders then I have to balance it out and give back.

Who knows, people might actually like it.

I don’t think you can write about yourself forever. Well you can but how many mirror selfies and pondering about the future blog posts, I’m sorry I know that is not interesting period. It’s plateau. It’s the very boring middle part of the movie and you are getting fungry.

Okay well I can give you some juice I suppose and make my next post an internet round-up, hope it isn’t a slow news day.

As you know I was dating a Dutch guy, back and forth for a bit I lived in Holland and he lived here. A lot have expressed interest in knowing how that one tanked.

We just let it die really and never officially broke up but it was clear it was over. A long distance relationship is crazy to inflict upon yourself but that we did. The alone parts are spent drinking. then when you date someone who lives in the same country near your street it’s like being in a porno afterward, so much contact.

The final ending phase chapter though is, as he was going to visit me for my champagne birthday (31 on the 31st, I am special) he and a bro did a pleasure trip to Brazil and drive the Florida Keys (during spring break no less, oh of course you’re gonna chase chicks) and suffice to say the guy was a big traveler I will give him that but when you’re in a long distance relationship your only traveling is suppose to be for the other person. Or that is MY selfish expectation about it!

He alleged that it was a cheap holiday (lied, was more like 4 grand) and was also not going to be in much communication with me. I found out at work on whatsapp and started shaking and crying and trying to keep it together then we had a routine phone conversation in the bathroom where I cried and hissed some more.

I was working 9-5 mon-fri and pining for this fucking guy, being a loner in my room and holding a torch when really I should have just moved on then.

So I decided to go to New Orleans and visit Leslie. By the second night I had driven her crazy because I was trying to get in contact with him he didn’t want to “sponsor” the phone company by checking in with me all the time which made me more irate. My plane ticket was last minute and expensive, my phone bill was like 800 bucks on top of this but it didn’t matter I included the phone bill as part of vacation expenses. Anyway, Leslie and I went out on Bourbon st (ate alligator) had no fun but tried (sorry Leslie!) I mean, we usually drink the first night then she’s over it and I am all wild give me more (despite complete exhaustion) and going bananas getting no Dutch love going crazy thinking about him being the star of that spring breakers movie and then screaming into the phone when we finally made a skype call happen then it cut out for a day.

So then Leslie and I went to a hipster pizza parlor and I saw this smoking hot guy who was totally my type and a bell went off in my head. I need to fuck this guy. I NEED to pick up this guy. This guy cannot leave here without having my number.

I begged Leslie to make it happen for me. I tried out all these pick up lines on her and she just laughed. I settled on waving three times at him (it was a sexy beckoning come on over wave) and he instincively just got up and walked right on over and I legit panicked because I had nothing prepared in my head to say! My mouth suddenly went dry and I said,

don’t I know you, don’t we know each other? You look really familiar…

…which brilliantly worked because he was a local celebrity and assumed everyone recognized him. EVERYONE is famous in New Orleans. Then Leslie saved my ass with some music-scene knowing shit, he gave me a card I think I asked for a card I always ask for a card because I think I’m in the wolf of wall street. Really it’s because I want to email you something ten times more hot than the crap coming out of my mouth IRL.

Sent him this pic taken the day before because he met me with my hair up and this was as hot as I looked at the time. I wanted to get him psyched about me.

So we get to sexting pretty obsessively. He said he was gonna “work out” which means “clean house” he also said “work” which turned into back and forth texting leading up to plans to meet that night why wait til tomorrow. Leslie made an I bet he’ll show you his rope joke. Ahh so hot. At the pizza place he had fallen for my anything to do around here line so we had made it like I was gonna bump into him the next day at some parade (?) but then all our horny correspondence degenerated into lets go to a show and drinks tonight and done.

I had a boyfriend and I did not fucking care because this is what happens when you piss me off long distance and I am pretty sure a don’t ask don’t tell policy was in-place, don’t ask don’t tell but highly suspect.

Also turns out pizza parlor guy was a shag of a friend of Leslie’s so drama was definitely going to go down if I went forward (and it did cos that woman saw us out together the next night) but fuck it, I am a tourist and I am here to taste the town. It was my third time in New Orleans and time to taste local meat. Ew gross sorry for dirty talk hahaa I do have some better material (for another time). I did go back again for Easter and I saw the Dutch guy in-between. Still don’t care. Then around May I joined tinder and that’s how I moved forward and my crush pining for New Orleans guy had to also die. All my friends were like well at least it’s closer than Holland this time Lauren haha fuck you.

This guy is like a Raymi the Minx out there, okay maybe more, some “famous” chef sent us over drinks that’s the kind of guy he was.

These drinks.

Leslie said that’s how you get over guys, you turn the fucking page.

If you want to see all the pictures from that trip click this.

So the next day I was super duper hungover but wanted to see him again, we went to see a band that night. Leslie was like he’s going to know all this music shit and cool stuff and it will all be wasted on you. I mean I did listen to him and he did have that magical quality and knows blues legends and music greats. He’s the reason why I like Sam Cooke so thanks for that.

I went back for a bunny crawl a month later. That was a good weekend. I missed my flight and had to stay another day which was nice but also like okay time to go bro. Waking up so early to get out of town was hell and I almost didn’t get a connecting flight but this flight agent or whatever could see how bug-eyed desperate I was to get out of Chicago she slipped me ahead of a couple which split them up and I felt awful but didn’t chime in and offer my seat why stop being evil now right?

They were a couple with their shit together while I was New Orleans hung, alone and shaking from fatigue. Arran was like you are going to have fun waiting and running through airports I bet your knees will buckle ahh cringe.

Anyway, that’s story time for today. BYE!

Hey bae, I got all these ideas man lets discuss!

Idea 1: Raymi the minx APP. Lets take my blog which I sporadically write on and throw it into your phone, put all this work and effort into it so you can see like one extra picture I would have instagrammed anyway? I am nowhere successful or famous enough to warrant an APP. Maybe if I was on speed (coffee) and churning out one-liners like crazy (could do) around the clock and my APP just blasts those out to you or I dunno, some kind of insane and fun Raymi the Minx APP with exclusive content pop culture musings that I of course would write. That was an “idea” put on the shelf like a year ago. RAYMITHEMINX APP could have like one crazy useful viral feature like a daily thing to doodle or puzzle to solve…

THEN I wanted to audition for Dragon’s Den because those auditions are happening this month in Toronto. Knowing I would be destroyed and laughed at, plus insulted (nothing new there) the object is to get the 15 minutes of exposure. All I have to do is write an epic pitch with my hallmark blend of drink my koolaid Raymisms and motivational statements regarding my staying power, blabbity blah but I will slack on this wish, miss the audition date and just not do it. I do have a lot of compelling arguments and I am a very good debater. Then I was like, I could just take my me-investment speech to other venture capitalists yet those guys (D’s Den) already have a pretty organized system in place just do it and go to them. I have a special little anecdote about bartending the 18th hole of the VIP tent at the Canadian Open and one of the sections belonged to one of the Dragon’s Den’s guy, I was planning to appeal to the emotional side of shit and being like, I watched you off and on for four days looking all rich as fuck and I was completely invisible to you, then I’d go off on a tangent like a hard done by artist and try to manipulate something out of that experience which I would only write about more in length if I actually went ahead with this. I picture the redheaded women gasping and then siding with me and then we would fly away together on a unicorn to my new expensive condo they bought for me hahaha.

Anyway, just sharing some hairbrained schemes cos you love it.

If I am about to be on tv/web again doing silly things should I feel silly about posting a webcam video of me dancing in my bedroom? If It’s okay to do that and enough vomments come in supporting this then I will gladly share some Raymaerobics and was actually thinking about showing you guys how I do my work out and how I got chiseled and more cut in just two weeks. Your diet is important in reduction of course. I’ve lost 8 pounds. Well it varies from scale to scale as long as I remember what my before weight was before. I do a run on the spot for 1-2 minutes a few times in a row. Lots of free weights moves. Does anybody even care are you listening? If ths is boring tell me I will totally be able to talk about other shit pertaining to me that you wanna know. Except for what you wanna know I don’t wanna discuss that yet actually back off nevermind ahahha.

Okay back to my mega ideas!

Art photography installation entitled WALK OF SHAME comprised of images you have taken on your walk of shame home but to everyone else it’s just a nice garden or fence weird street urban setting thing but you sleep around a lot and you have a lot of city shots and then you make a whole exhibition about it. Yeah thank god for flickr I am going to rip off my own idea and do this.

I am replaying my screen test in my mind and all the funny shit I said to get a reaction knowing it would be used on tape and it was vey Sarah Silverman roasty in nature, epicly offensive and you can get away with it because it’s spoken word it is all out there and opinionated not written down on a blog that can turn into pages of flame war. Anyway, this is just me opening to a memory of something funny I said once that you didn’t hear about yet.

They also made me sing because I said I could sing so I sang and nailed it they were like, woah, you can sing. Then after I said my hugely offensive funny anecdote about boylord I excused myself by saying I was also a comedian (because I did stand-up a few times but also I feel like I write and live comedy every day) so they put me on the spot again and said okay tell us some jokes.

I blanked.

I remembered two jokes.

My one about shaving your pussy and the other one about spiders being scary that no one laughs at.

I was naked for this entire experience by the way. THAT is why I am getting into shape and I am 100% deleting this sentence when my mom finds out. I am hiding a gigantic secret out in the open now I feel like I am sitting on a fucking volcano. I have to move in a month too. If we could do an oculus rift from what the inside of my mind looks like right now you would BARF from the ups and downs but probably masturbate furiously to a lot of sequences ahaha.

Okay I am gonna leave you with that, y’all enjoy now Raymi out.