Don’t play me Raymi

Hi guys. Okay I blog now. It’s funny feeling like you need to announce it before disappearing into a vortex of ignorance for a bit. A luxurious self indulgent personal treat of not looking at your bloody phone for a little while. Those things are the death of you.

This weekend I just kinda laid low, don’t I always though. It was equal parts relax and active. Relaxtive. Laxative. Okay I will stop. Never.

Blessed with amazing weather which was half pissed away but what can you do. It was a crazy week Raymbo needed some down time. Why do we feel guilt for not maximizing our spare time (weekends) and take it easy. Are we competing? It’s a Canadian pointless guilt thing.

I have been making this easy appetizer for years and years. Food travels through time with us. Right. Like I didn’t have to augment or change this. Why am I mindblown?

There’s a boat fire *spoiler alert* in Bloodline, a show I blasted through last couple of weeks on netflix, that they replay over and over. I have always been fascinated with ships. I watched The Godfather for the first time this weekend plus the second one. He comes to America on a ship. Maybe ships scare me. They make me think of change and I fear change a little. Traveling from one place to another by ship makes me feel claustrophobic and vulnerable. Ships are impressive to me. Clearly I have a lot of feelings about a lot of things… so lets move on to the next.

Moron. If I am eating a cupcake it’s BECAUSE I am sad. If I run to sugar = the sad is here. That’s why you will never find me with a cupcake in my hand because I will not admit defeat. If I am sad I am eating pizza (or have munchies). I realize I am making no sense and I don’t care it’s Monday fml.

Went for a long walk Saturday and popped into this store I love.

I felt kind of melancholy this weekend. I’m turning into a nihilist and I don’t like it.

What do I want and what is the point. I think all the greatest artists had meltdowns and periods of bullshit right before their best ideas happened. Or I am making that up. There is an orchestra and potential of greatness in my head at all times but I am starting to doubt myself and wonder if I have been suffering from a mental illness my entire life that has blocked me from my true achievement? I see things that I am doing. Things I am doing to myself. Things I have thrown away. Walked away from. Maybe I am more Kerouac than I think? I know that I try to fix too many problems out of my control whilst trying to Raymi The Minx keep on trucking through but I wonder at what point does it change, do I give up. No one will ever come to save you. People will be interested when you give them something. When you give them a story and you tell the truth. From the heart. When I speak to my circle of savant idiots sometimes about my truth, they know it, we both know it — that, that’s it. I just wonder when the fuck I am going to make good on it is all. I worry myself. I worry about everything. My mind is like a lost highway.

I had to use a string for a belt. I felt a bit of shame I will admit but also, dgaf. Hanging out with your ex is interesting also nice. We get along better when we are not dating. I have never been in a relationship-scenario such as this before. I simply “do not get it” but also “whatever”. I think we actually are compatible and care about one another but we can also turn it off and drop each other cold. It’s ridiculous but so am I. I still get jealous that he’s on tinder and he’s like want me to delete it, I will right now. Meanwhile I have a million matches… but I just don’t care. Last week I felt like a bit of a date machine and this week I am grossed out. I am tired of all these dudes wanting to just fuck me. I am not going to act like a dainty virgin to find the proper husband either or play that tired game which is why I am turning into a nihilist and feeling like what’s the point.

I know I am depressed when I am at my skinniest and it’s in part from emo but also I “made it” to my goal and dgaf. What a pointless waste. Then I eat crap all weekend and blow it. When our outward image is what we rely on for our happiness life fulfillment quotient we can’t be shocked when we still feel a little empty inside. I’ve spoken about this before. You spend your life trying to get skinny for some stupid reason and then you get skinny but you still feel like shit. That’s why you must work on your insides too. I would go to therapy again but I just end up running them ’round in logical talk circles about my “plight” then I just stop going. I wonder if that last guy thinks I’m dead. The material could just be put here instead for you guys to enjoy with the same outcome.

Nothing fits me right now. All the cute outfits I picture myself kicking ass in just can’t happen in actuality when I put them on. I am going to take all my shorts to that consignment shop my mom won’t stop harassing me about. I offered them to you guys but a million tumbleweeds blew by when I opened my mouth so you missed your chance.

Fortunately for me the tortured artist carries with it some form of appeal for the amount of time one has appeal. As long as they keep it real.

I know I rhyme a lot, I just can’t help it. Some people can’t write or think for shit so I guess just enjoy it when you come across it. Literates who love to read and what not it’s like a melody for their brain to go over prose with flow. Like when obsessive compulsive people have completed organizing something, a ziploc bag closes properly, you fold a blanket I dunno it just feels good to read something well-written and unexpected. With proper grammar. It’s like a fucking orgasm to have a blog post without typos and everything typed to perfection.

Oh my god I need a life.

Friday was a skinny, exhausted day. I recovered from the night/day before then made a chicken. The tastiest goddamn chicken ever I don’t care how burnt it looked on instagram haha.

I felt pretty on Thursday. Instead of someone who acts like they are pretty on the internet. I was feeling my looks. I didn’t go down the rabbit hole of what that means about it don’t worry and I am not even sorry or going to apologize for it here.

The Carlu is a great scene. Historic. The comedians at Comic Vision were hilarious and it was inspiring to see a 21 year old blind girl in high heels and a tutu give us all a mega-learning. Such a spectacular event thanks Ben! I have full and better coverage on my camera but I’m a lazy prick sorry.

I got hit on on the train ride in. My limo driver picked me up for the way home so I didn’t mind half the experience being ghetto but anyway I am so bad in getting hit on situations I give my number regardless of liking them or having any inclination on how to follow through with it even if I wanted to full bluff myself long story short he texted and I haven’t replied and he called yesterday and I called the number back by mistake because I didn’t program him but I hung up before it engaged the call (THANK GOD) it’s not that I am being a bitch it’s that I am a chicken shit with awkward problems. I gave him my fucking glamourshot card with all my info so he will probably read this and call me out. All I did was speak to him when he motioned me over, exactly how I motioned over that guy I saw in a pizza parlor in New Orleans. I knew I wasn’t feeling it but maybe I was? I was curious above all else and my ego was satiated which probably is what rules me but anyway, the train was coming so I was going to get up anyway so I get up and walk out to him knowing I am going to give him exactly the same courtesy I give all men – abuse flirting.

I said, “WHAT!?” when I walked out. Playing it chill. I was dressed to kill. His mouth dried right up he was not expecting something so rude and self-assured to occur. Well bro look how I was dressed. Is it racist to say he was a brother? I don’t care, it’s true, it’s honest. It does not matter your race to me what matters is attraction and I am attracted to lots of things, genders. Right now I am not really attracted to anything because I am too busy being disgusted by myself. That’s what I should put on my tinder profile actually because it would probably help and explain a lot hahaha. I’M BROKEN BUT I’M TRYING.

We had a table in the front row. Sometimes it’s nice to be me. Hooked up by SiriusXM yes guy. #ownthyshit.

Oh blurry Bluren. Just picture a bunch of rich stuffy people to be jealous of and you’re good to go.

There needs to be a term for a girl who is dressed up to go out that is equivalent to the hallmark “walk of shame” because she is definitely a pre-walk of shame photo fur sure.

For the fist time ever I will attempt shrinking these little shorts I never put in the dryer. Prob too late tho I think my juicy ass had its way with ‘em.

My limo buddy also has this toy to play with what a fuckface right ahha.

We went for a quick ride/errand thing together and he shows up in this loud monstrosity, the nerve! That’s one of his sayings he’s a total italian blabbity blah.

As emo as I get I should just shut up because I am truly blessed with the collection of friends I’ve amassed and the spoils they bring with. It’s good to have reminders.

Can you believe this is grandfathered out. The car is so powerful and look at me loud (and red) and you’re only wearing a necklace around your waist for safety good luck with that. I look fwd to doing the strip at Wasaga in this bad boy. Btw notice my nails are long now and getting there.

I look like a soft blob but assure you I am not. If one is moved to take a risky bikini picture then in that moment they feel skinny, it just might not translate in photo. Can you tell I’ve been online bullied for years about my body? Lol.

Had to tuck in my wrestling ring strings to not get a weird tanline. I just found these tiny booty shorts that I’ve been looking for to match this top.

Honestly I am proud of my body for my age. It doesn’t make me a God though so maybe chillax on your haterade.

I went on a date this night I wanted to see how tired and allergy-ridden my eyes were looking, hence this picture. He asked if I would blog about him. I paused and said, well, no. Maybe? It didn’t occur to me at all. Only if there is something of note to report, or perhaps over time when no one is looking I’ll eek out a detail here or there but mostly I keep it private or anonymous. Is asking if I’ll blog about what makes me blog about it? He’s a guy who lives nearby and we have been each other’s match for the few times I have been on tinder but never met before or made effort so we finally met. Also we were in the pub that I was interviewed by The Toronto Star about the dissolution of my engagement in. I chose this pub because it is near where I lived then with my rebound and I hadn’t been back since. I told him about this because sometimes people can be disrespectful about blogging or like, so what? And then very invasive about what you get paid so I felt like oh yeah buddy, the news interviewed me here about my stupid fucking life. Not all bloggers receive that achievement in their life. Ever. This date was not like that at all in actuality but it was such a “real” setting to me and held nostalgic vibe. The waitress was ultra friendly to me and kept sitting down beside me, right? Sometimes people are so attracted or drawn to me and it cannot be helped. I’m an isolated person in general but I do give off an energy when I enter a room, people notice me and I notice it and I engage them… I let it happen. Maybe this entire blog is just me trying to come to terms with that phenomenon and explaining it to you and everyone around me when we meet and go on dates. Like I am special because ________ _______ ________, you know? I actually think that’s what it is.

Well I’m glad I got over my writer’s block. I wanted to blog since Friday so this is all saved up crap from my head. I’m cognizant when I blog I just have to narrow down which stories I want to tell and I use my photos as talking points to aid in that.

If rock and roll was a blog I’d be _______.

This is how I dressed to see my accountant. I wore two different sized earrings but both were crystal which is why I made the mistake. No one noticed. Another Rayme in the life.

Went to a Sunday fight with my mom and Frank was good times. I was over-dressed lol.

Ate a lot of grease.

Give them what they want that’s what I always say. What “that” exactly is can be up to you.

Remembering am skinny enough to pull this off face and before I became pregnant with onion rings.

Sorry it’s all about me but that’s what my blog is about.

Oh yeah I was in a movie too… we talked about that haha.

Alrighty folks. Hope you enjoyed this crap! xo rlw.