there’s a real world somewhere a good girl lives and breathes

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i am so beetlejuice here.

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shit show weekend. well not really. i can’t remember half of what i did. thank nerds for technology. cameras. smartphones and flickr. it’s only shit show feeling cos i didn’t work out enough and i’m too old to remember what i did. i was good last night though, in bed by 11.30 and didn’t give in to goin’ out for strung out sundays. i still feel hungover though. OLD.

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band names.

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probably the least flattering vision of the future photo of me ever. i was just about to start talking (as usual). i have major saturday morning dad hair here. wait, was this actually saturday morning? friday? who’s to know anymore i exist in a realm unto my stupid self.

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i used up all the soy at poor john’s, oh right this was the day we woke up without water, anyway, i killed the carton of soy (i try not to have too much dairy these days because i am obnoxious like that)(i was all i need soy or, just give me whatever hippie stuff you have) and said it’s done the girl is like do you need more? i go no but YOU do. her face was just like, what are you?

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fuckin’ dynasty that’s what i am.

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ahh this dress is so pretty i thought about it all weekend long. i bought two new dresses. i have a dress addiction now. dresses and dates.

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i have to stop getting tanked on dates. it’s kind of disrespectful. i go in with no expectations also nervous and adrenaline-ridden so i guzzle them back. at certain points i have moments of clarity like uh maybe this guy IS actually interested and i just blew it. sorry. well i didn’t blow anything i don’t think but you know it’s not exactly proper to be a piss tank. we went to le petit castor after some place on baldwin. after hearing so much about it what are my thoughts? hmmmm. gong show rich people, cougs galore, and man cougs. holy fucking man cougs. i’m going to start making fun of them way more than chick cougs now whom i feel deserve to own their party rights meanwhile you jackass men have been getting away with this nonsense for quite a time now with minimal consequence. a start might be removing your wedding band.

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ginger and i had dinner in the distillery then went to the drive-in friday night. WHOLESOME SOCKS LETS DO THIS.

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my mom bought these insanity slasher pants for my niece and i. um my niece will be 13 in september. i was last 13 i can’t even do the math right now. anyway they’re meant to be worn the other way but look like leg braces. a little more unassuming backward and if my ass is going to be (will SO be) checked out anyway it’s an extra you’re welcome back there. so, you’re welcome.

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i love this skinny mirror. oh man i have some work to do this week. no drinking.

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this is the pointiest sharpest building i have ever seen. why didn’t i get a shot from a proper angle? oh that’s right i’m not the tourism board of toronto even though it feels like it a lot of the time.

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that’s the darkest rose i’ve had in a long time.

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ginger’s a big fan of my retard chair. it’s very flattering. though i can’t help but feel like the slow kid being clapped on the back or getting special attention over it. i dunno. i let him pay me back in dinner. melodie was sad to see the chair go. never fear i’m going to start painting more again and have a show soon. maybe halloween themed at the central and have a costume party. what do you think about that? my liver is already shuddering at the thought.

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ginger indulges my take my picture game. it’s nice not to have someone speed roll their eyeballs for once. like guess what asshole i’m working, always, constantly. these good times don’t pay for their fucking selves you know. the people want to know what’s up. insert more defensive complaints here. also fyi ginger and i aren’t banging. why i feel the need to clarify this i dunno. the city assumes i’m sleeping with it so every time a new dude shows up i have to let you know that i don’t know what his wang looks like?

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shrimp phenomenal. the “frites” were bullshit mini pieces of fries and they forgot one of the dips. they also brought me the wrong salad after my shrimp. now at the two fuck ups point as a restaurateur i’d send the host or someone over to apologize then comp something, anything. this food snob was not impressed i don’t care if you think that’s bitchy or ludicrous i’ve comped more for less of a screw-up and if you’re a higher-end resto people have higher expectations so try meeting them.

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modern art. ooooooooook.

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piranhas 3d. go see it. so much gore and nudity. perfect summer slasher flick. some parts are just so extreme and you look at each other like uh, that was a bit much. like the girl getting her hair caught in the prop from the guy mowing his way through all the bodies trying to fight their way out of the water by. gruesome. amazing.

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me paying for my coffee at balzac’s who also screwed up. a double americano is not to be poured to the very top. i was given no sleeve or extra cup, it was SCALDING hot and filled to the brim. maybe the guy thought he was doing me a solid by extra-ing up my order but no, a double is two shots then a bit of extra hot water. also trying to maneuver it over to the coffee station through piles of bitchy caffeine-starved elite tourist shitheads was very trying. ginger doesn’t drink coffee so by the time we are finally out of his place and out i’m caffeine free too for the most part (coffee time drip coffee does NOT count) and out of my mind overtired, weak. i joked to this one woman in line waiting for her coffee that people aren’t very talkative while waiting for their coffee which was met by SILENCE and then i’m pretty sure she budded and took my coffee, i didn’t recall her ordering ahead of me. i try to make the best of any situation, i cannot STAND tension so i try to break it with a little quip when i can. sorry assholes lets keep the misery cranked to 11 then happy saturday. in summation, be careful at balzac’s it’s like mcdonald’s scalding coffee lawsuit up in there. still a totally beautiful space though.

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what am i doing here? oh this is on our way out for coffee.

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so dreamy. i want to live in the distillery then die of boredom 24 hours later. also, friends called, they want their cups back. you can keep them though cos they look so precious.

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this is NOT a double americano. this is soup and my shaky wimpy hands almost sloshed it all over the place, my bare legs, a baby! you need to have the sleeves at the counter not across the room through the obstacle gauntlet of chairs and tables and assholes.

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oh that’s right we had a walking soundtrack too.

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so castle.

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he bbm’d WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG. um, READ ABOVE too much to type back right now!

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that’s ginger up there. multiple angles blog post extreeeeeeeme.

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this pit stop has been adequately covered.

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i just want an english cottage with a beautiful kitchen and tons of baked goods like this on my counter. beatrix potter 4evs.

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feelin’ my californian dreamy presence large they were (not). guess how much i am feeling YOU?

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i want money.

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this little part here is in the tommy boy movie when his dad dies and he walks around to a bagpipe-rendition of a song i can’t place right now as someone is blasting garbage music outside.

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round two motherfucker.

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just kidding.

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harlem underground for dinner last nite with curly haired fuck.

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oh hi. i ripped the back end out and ate it. is this a crawfish? it was on top of my jambalaya, which could have been way hotter.

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meh salad.

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summer and my haircut are not friends at fucking ALL.

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steamy vision.

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i need to start bringing the warhol around my bb photos are kinda garbage hey?

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candied yams.

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just about blackout drunk here on a date with a dude who picked me up at my bar. i killed this song, will you still love me tomorrow. everyone screamed yes. it was early in the rotation so everyone was geared for a show and that i gave them.

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loud cuban music at the ossington and a slew of drunk scottish women in the back room basically interviewed my date and i about one another like a buncha moms it was funny and cut the awkward a little while adding some on top of it. i biked by curly haired fuck on my way and he’s all oh you’re dressed up, i said where i was going (his shitty date bar) so he knew right away what was up. just call me jealousy traps or don’t call me at all. dating is exfuckinghausting i think i need a man break this week.

see you at the gym.