blame it on the Raymes yeah yeah

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512880390/

i felt hugely that i was a brainiac at a young age and started feeling ugly cos of so much brainpower, i had coolness obsession and my best frenemy called me a brainer all the time to psyche me out, i even dumbed it down cos of this bitch like lohan in mean girls for se’ers. grimace. so i wanted my looks to be able to compete with my brains and be on par and maybe get me noticed for those first i can stand up in the class and be dominating but that’s not a good look for an ugly woman. i made myself a target constantly necessitating beauty armour. i felt inferior to prettier girls in my class. so i wanted to transform myself into a thing of want once i was done my grunge phase. have you ever seen what i looked like in grade eight? even more beautiful in grade nine and my best at grade ten.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512685237/

me at fourteen on the left, mega whore. jailbait indeed. anyway i wanted to be very pretty and i dunno what happened i started reading cosmopolitan i was coming out of being a ginormous hermit slob and had my own mini threesome of boys fan club, like a pre-pbc (parkdale boys club) unit i was the girl friday and i took cues from sluts in our neighbourhood on how to be, girls they had crushes on, devoured all knowledge possible concerning hotness. guys in the naybe were feared to near me way more than they were at highschool thanks to my brother. how-e-ver (how many are shaking reading this right now ahahahah) little did he know, said fellows, while keeping their distance, definitely did the googoo eyes dance with me. i was kind of a terrified neurotic, of our hood, it did have its rough patches as well as coming of age when your parents are kind of like telling you NO all the time and you’re battling pre-pubescent/adolescent depression and other awkward weirdnesses you have to figure out who the hell you want to be and what you are too. i wanted to be an enigma, seen, mysterious, sought after.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5513281294/in/photostream/

holy crap look at my mug.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512685429/in/photostream/

if you will please ignore all the embarrassing shit surrounding the pièce de résistance here, your hero in thigh highs in grade SIX no less. i was dancing here too so i was learning how to be a gazelle and i was legitimately the most awkward fucking thing when i started, i had no idea how to relax i was nervous ALL THE TIME and i was always singled out and picked on until i fucking snapped. it took me TWO YEARS to snap in dance class. yes some elements of that black swan shit are true. lots of perfectionist pressure. i was being picked on by miss amanda (they were ALL called miss amanda) and i said WHY are you ALWAYS singling ME out specifically STOP IT i said in front of everybody we were all lazing around on the floor post stretches. i mean, i went on, invisible vibes to be egged on emanated toward me, i am NOT the worst one in the class and i know you do it because i’m the class clown and i talk a lot and the most but just, stop. i finished because the look on my face said everything. i was about to EXPLODE in the face with tears if she even TRIED to fuck with that statement. i think i also added i don’t come here once a week to be yelled at k thanks. it was true. i was miserable a lot in jazz. A LOT. but i kept at it cos i don’t really quit things. i quit cheerleading though. that’s another story. at least i made the team bitchas! i know drill still.

ps. me in that purple dress and stupid blue jean dress, my ears are pierced only time ever than now. i look like a monkey you saw in dominican republic at an all-inclusive. ooh ohh AHH AHH! (monkey talk). thank god i grew into my ears.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512685387/in/photostream/

i don’t know why i am sitting like this but this is me and aaron one of my best friends (my boys club trifecta member, there were three of them, plus me, pay attention). our phone numbers were practically identical by one number difference isn’t that amazing. he had a cardboard box star trek hang out pad in this basement with amazing truck car seats? i have ten billion stories about all our adventures. here’s highlights:

1. playing manhunt with my brother at riverrun park (so dangerous) up in the forested hill part beside the practically vertical hill that the burn outs dumped gasoline all over and burned, anyway, my brother checked me when aaron was IT and gunning for us at the top of the ridiculous path slope hill and i rolled all the way down the hill gaining momentum hitting trees and created a landslide of dirt earth branches leaves ahahahaha and my brother was RIGHT on my ass as i was barreling down i stopped just before being flung right into the fucking river, i landed in the mud instead on all fours including my face ahahhaa. THANKS SHAWN. it was a severely steep and dangerous hill, part of the point and thrill of the chase.

2. got sap all over my ass and body climbing a tree at the park with arron waiting for my brother who was grounded from loitering at falconer plaza and therefore we were his only friends, anyway, i fell out of this tree and hit my head or ass or something. i think my mom canceled shawn’s grounding a few days prematurely because i almost died tagging along with them all over.

3. i got wasted with aaron one of my first times getting wasted. barnes barfed out of his nose when he went in his house ahahhaa and i slept walked and pissed on my dresser. we had a bush party down by the river. my first boyfriend was there too and he was so gassed he drank cried cos i was whining about bullshit. i was grounded for two weeks and they hit the vacuum outside my door first thing in the morning to welcome me into my newfound hell.

this was the beginning of my demise as an innocent girl.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512281941/

holy crap all i wanted to do here was talk myself out of nudity guilt by saying i am a victim of my own narcissism and insecurities. my date last night told me to relax a lot, and that i was paranoid. i could not stop vouching for myself, selling myself. it was disgusting. he wasn’t the one so i felt like i had to over-compensate for the both of us. he looks like gavin mcinnes and is a foot freak. we had a good time. i irritated the hell out of him. he liked me though and he said he had never met anyone like me before and i earlier told myself as i was getting ready to leave, oh, i’ve never met anyone like you before as if i were him. i talk to myself in my head i am constantly going because i am a writer, and manic. anyway, sometimes i have moments where i recognize i just might be different than everybody else and therefore maybe i should cut it out. i think i got used to freaks or i surround myself with many degenerates and then when i meet normal people and they look at me in that way i go, oh yeah, i am a fucking rocket. i showed him my hands though and said look how good these look now picture them as my feet so yuo can picture how nice they might look like except i walk on them so they’re kind of mangled, but they’re beautiful. it came out more funny in real life. i have beautiful appendages. i didn’t say that though, i am just saying it now because i wanted you to know.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5512878342/

ok bath time.