i missed my work out today but it’s alright i assaulted myself all day long yesterday. 3.7 miles on the elliptical, 200 calories, wicked fast clip. then i did a lot of weights, more cardio stretching and worked out with my mom too. saturday, tomorrow, bootcamp. i will bringing this thing called THE NOISE.
i bought this for my mom, guess when, guess where. guess what guys i saw things and did stuff! some of us have sick fascinations, morbid curiosities, sentimental reasoning being the base culprit.
stew and i this night wandered around yonge dundas square through barricades of police news trucks firetrucks ambulances more cops on foot cruisers parked, we shared a joint throughout and were only annoyed we had to make a detour west of yonge parallel a street down. we had time for jack astor’s and drank through black swan sat in the loser front row like crackheads gunned on large diet vodka cokes. then we went to the beac to continue the shit show.
i can’t tell time in 24:00 format. that pissed off my engineer mensa-iq ex a lot. i have a collection of these papers because i have to make one every time i check the go train schedules which i can’t remember because i am one of those adorable bumbling creative types who step off a sidewalk curb into a pink fluffy cloud down to dumb luck capital city population how did i make it this far in life hahha. anyway, i should start saving these, frame them and have a show. i tried to save one at my dad’s but he threw it out. these numbers are important numbers. how to be famous on the internet right there kids. (yes it’s a wine stain).
i am dealing with my present anxiety sadness by doing a lot of cardio and weights. i got up off the couch and did a hundred curls lateral raises squats flies push ups lunges, went zen and realised i am back to being flexible again. i did a session on my mom too, she’s pretty fit. i pushed her to go as hard as she could. i’m going to bring her to TMR soon, brother too. family day! also don’t forget about the shasha bread factory OPEN HOUSE tour this family day, sign up and join me please while i stuff bread and cookies in my mouth. i like weird pursuits. i pursue the weird. while i am trying to steer my slutty brand over into asexual territory i need new activities for it that align. there’s also a secret hidden reason for it in the back-end i’ll tell you when it happens.
i’m thinking of coming back out for saturday night, the firehall is having a karaoke contest kicking off their saturday nights and if they pick your name and you sing the song you pre-requested you can win $250. yeah, i’m doing it. taylor the managress chatted to my mom and i over our nightcap wednesday night after emmas. taylor carded me i was like, are you serious? momentarily nervous she stood her ground. i dragged my heels all the way back to the car to get my expired passport with my mom’s SHE’S ALMOST 30! ringing in my ears. i said MOM I’M ALMOST 28! i knew she threw me under the bus cos she was jealous i got carded like that. it was only because we ordered one glass of wine like we were going to share it then i threw in the extra glass like a total minor would using their parent as a shield. it’s alright though, i accidentally said my mom’s real age to one of the dude friends in her crew. baha.
remind me to steal this lipstick off my mom before i leave. she’s trying to get me to go shopping. i always whine to go to f21 when i’m out here and she always says no (i don’t put up much of a fight i have enough shit and blowing money is just a past time, things don’t make me any happier) but last night and today she keeps suggesting it so i know that she knows i am in hell. which is what i said last night on the couch then erupted in a river of tears with only my head exposed out of the couch throw blanket floating crying head, fantastic visual.
making friends everywhere i go. there are an abundance of late boomer white dudes all over this neighbourhood. or maybe it’s just that i only ever go to bars. dad , this guy was in a beatle cover band.
not the greatest (mom where are the others?) i want to train my mom and uncle together. my uncle mike is obsessed with his body and positively OCD about working out. hmm how familiar-seeming is that? i am a good trainer/coach i have zero qualifications or certificates but whatever, i’m smart. i wouldn’t make you lift a boulder or anything. not yet anyway. speaking of uncle mike it’s his birthday on tuesday so he wants to use his cafe du lac prize sunday night. must call and make arrangements for him.
i throw myself into these sessions full throttle. i cannot imagine my life now without fitness. maybe being a lazy pathetic sloth worked for me for a time before, but not now. now, i need that ish.
every saturday it’s modified so you don’t get bored. ever. yet using some of the drills you learned before you kind of know what to expect and it’s super easy to pick up and follow along as you go.
oh i know, i have this anxiety breath exhalation i do a lot, you may notice it someday. we’ll be talking, or i’ll awkwardly be steering the ship and then i’ll go hoooooooooooo really quietly and probably put my hands on my hips maybe it’s just that i probably motor-mouthed for ten minutes straight and forgot to breathe. it happens.
the man behind me pushing that thing is doing my favourite station. reminded me of the strong man (iron man?) competitions. so is. i want to ace it. i’m already there but i want to push it way faster and i want gloves to pull it faster too without scraping up my palms.
destroyed it. my mom is walking around feeling her mom arms saying, “i need to go to the motion” while eyeing my slender new arms jealously. she is part retarded like me so she can’t get the full name out right. close though.
we have a new trainer at TMR now too called the RUSSIAN NIGHTMARE. hahaha. going to brand him up like CAN YOU HANDLE THE RUSSIAN NIGHTMARE. while i’m training with james we watch him training a client and wow, i saw him like, jump in the air and do a mortal kombat spiral tornado twirl in the air then a kick one hand to the floor 360 rotation jump flip tuck i don’t know the fuck what but it was just for fun. he’s also really little. we’ve never been introduced but i know he watches me out of curiosity. who is this tall blond euro looking giraffe girl running for her life on the treadmill? he reminds me of the infamous psychotic olympic coach that held the girl with the sprained ankle who won USA the gold. there is just no way not to draw that comparison when i look at that guy.
someone on twitter was like are you pushing a lawnmower? haha yeah. people never think before typing in arbitrary dumb lazy questions into twitter knowing some idiot will answer. i am guilty of this a lot, usually just with songs. WHAT’S THAT SONG WITH THE GIRL IN THE HAT AND THE SMILE? THANKS TWITTER!
step class. you get an element of everything on saturdays. speaking of which i am going so CONTACT the motion room if you want to go to boot camp too this saturday, or call:
i don’t really like the ball of sand thing anymore. i mean i like it but i don’t like raising it. i gather that mentality is what got my arms fat in the first place. anything you hate doing is the thing that will fix the trouble area you have on your body. seriously. who likes sit ups? how many of those people who didn’t raise their hand have washboard stomachs? exactly.
so just shut up and do it basically. when i say no to james he just looks at me and so i keep doing lateral raises and leg lifts (worst!) because i know there is a goal here.
these photos are two weeks old now so i am even trimmer. it’s a day-by-day results system with me. nothing tops your trainer telling you mondays wednesdays and fridays you look little, and then two days later littler than the day before. this is why i am an egomaniac right now. warranted cos i am earning it yes? i think this is also why no one gets along with fitness people. they are tunnel-visioned obsessed and only eat alfalfa sprouts and on their days off do yoga. (i am in the middle of trying to land someone like this right now hahaha).
arm looks fat (obsessed) that shirt is a shrunken small so that isn’t helping. laughing here because i growled at jeff after he gave me my smoothie and i pounded half of it. yes, animal growled. it felt right and it felt good. see what noises you make this saturday.
woah roots. my appointment was on monday, brennen was renovating so couldn’t take me this week. another area of obsession in my life is my hair. tragic.
i was thinking i might dress like a fitness rainbow bright (raymbo) and casie as superman (she has a costume from wakestock) to show the globe how we insert fun into our social media worlds and campaigns i dunno, just a thought. the pics would look really cute. too juvenile, colleague?
artistic. TMR are perfectionists. very new clean facilities, stylish, great atmosphere. everyone i bring in there immediately becomes hooked. tmr is on my brain every single day, if i’m not blogging it or there it’s a constant discussion with people, interested parties, when are we going again!? parties. it has changed my life for the good. at first i was like, what, three times a week for 3-6 months? no way. now? total way. totally. i’m dependent.
check this hot girl, a cross between the pussy cat dolls and the kardashians. how much do you think i was dying in my head over her but completely playing it cool. tha’s right. her name is armig. raymi and armig. she’s from the country so got no city game therefore all up over me plus i was dancing like a total guy who loves concerts and only dances at concerts lives for concerts type. very appealing. we’re gonna be bros. sort of related, james says i should do a seminar for girls with low self esteem and teach people social skills. i should. i bring people up through email why not in real life like tom cruise in magnolia. i’m gregarious as shit. time to monetize.
so i did. that feather clip i use to hold my bangs back while i do my makeup mask of orange. sometimes i stain my hair. can you imagine having something so delicate ready and willing to absorb anything it touches. this is why i toil with men always petting it and reaching out to touch. i’m wearing a white permanent angora sweater on my head everyday. think about it fucking idiots. you gloots. gloots? brutes. yeah that. that is what you are.
swapped the ceiling energy saver bulb with my side lamp cos melodie blew the last bulb so i have a fluorescent star wars bright beam emanating in the corner there when it’s turned on and the sun penetrates this room it’s like vitamin d is doing you all over like the easy slore you are. it’s wonderful. this is the time of the year when it lines up perfectly with my windows.
brought shawn to good catch up the street or beside mitzis. he was like whaaaat? cn tower cat stand. he bought micheal jackson cards from when mj was black. he ate the gum from the packs (brave!) and it disintegrated into powder in his mouth in front of britt and brad. wicked gross for him.
nocturnal emissions star wars (two SW references in a post)(intentional) designer duds for duds. if a guy came up to me on a date in one of these i would just roll my eyes and shake my head simultaneously, laugh and say, well, we know you’ve gotten laid maybe 2 times in your life before and one of those times was definitely to yourself while you were sleeping in those star wars sheets. lets do this loser.
i am turning into a bitter mean toronto person because my life sucks and my heart is destroyed. i am ok i am just a mess. it’s fine. someone said they wanted to hate slice my melon on valentines day, it’s cool, it’s perfectly totally normal to say that to somebody. shit’s fine.
i definitely was a tall skinny motherf***er last night. i went ronald. ‘cept without the pedophilia. christ he’s a creepy looking mascot brand. they should give him a makeover a la archie comics. i am not into clowns at all. they aren’t funny, there was that clown horror movie that is terrifying, and another one at a carnival. you have no idea what facial imperfections they’re covering up with all that makeup and their outfits are way too loud, so loud, screaming in your face loud. they’re always at parties too like, ruining the atmosphere. no thanks. i lost my red lipstick on the night of the date auction i think so if i wore it last night i would definitely look like ronald. i even matched melodie’s t-shirt to the laces. i need to know for fact that zero people will be matching me when i go out. 10000000% of the time i am right. a girl complimented this shirt and a fitness hottie asked for it. i am already talking to another dude. you know it. you will love this story if it pans out. which it won’t because we all know i am fucking cursed and destined for unhappiness FOREVER for the enjoyment of all my friends from here to eternity.
anywhooooooo guess who went out and threw caution to the wind to the soundtrack of interpol last night? oh you did now did ya? fuck that your life sucks in a different way than mine so obviously it wasn’t you. when shit goes sour to cope i like to distract, delude, deny, rinse and repeat. thanks erik for the band-aid. i love sound academy. at first i was lying to just you know, in business, one hand washes the other but now i love that place. i know the show is going to be perfect, the act, huge, and the places i get to watch it all go down, photo pit, side/backstage, biz mezzanine, vip, whatever. drink tickets from my hand to armpit? oh please run along now chile. lucas was like thanks for the invite re: last night. um, britt and brad asked me a month ago. i told you the onus is on you to tell the golden goose what you want to see and when and i make it happen this wasn’t a grand i am excluding you scheme. i have just decided to look on the site and pick out shit i want to see and do that from now on. yep. queens of the stone(r)age whats up son.
i’ve seen these guys before. well i think i have. i can’t really remember anymore we used to go to so many and this is 20000 drinks ago. i’ll google my archives afterward to scare up some information on that. this blog is like my personal life library. shawn asked me if i went to the cne this summer. mind blanked. um, let me get back to you on that one i’m not sure if i did or not.
they are tight and perfectionist new yorkers and dark and moody gloomy creepy rock hard heavy. exactly like their recordings that i have memorized because i listen to the same discography of music from the last decade of my life repetitiously. i knew exactly when and where the bass would go this way or a tune would get heavier, so my dance moves were perfectly timed no matter how sloppy frenetic i moved, i have rhythm, in spades. don’t i now?
i like going out here. britt and brad were in awe. the water was frozen and all broken up it felt like being in alaska or on the titanic so cool where are the glaciers at. oh just floating out over there.
didn’t leave vip once this time. the side back stage wasn’t open nor the biz exec mezzanine i guess interpol is too famous for groupies well all the people in the scene who get vip access/treatment if that was open to all it would get rammed and if one gets to go then all want to go. just too many people i think. these are the things i consider and figure out all on my own. i also know from experience that fighting the crowd to get down to the bar is annoying i didn’t want to be touched. you immediately once down there want to go right back up to vip where you can spin around like a pinwheel if you want and not be arm-to-arm with fanatics.
favourite part of the night. people looked up at me, being herded like cattle, so many, so much claustrophobia and crowd volume. there is no way to look down on people and make it look like you aren’t actually looking, down on them. suffice it to say some not too happy looks were returned my way.
time for salads. i am going to spend way more time in that diner. passport reminder. how interpol looking is this photo? i am in sync wither my every surrounding.
pbj is hilarious to see on a menu because people make that shit when they’s po’ not go out to a high fallutin’ restaurant to eat an overpriced version. has anyone had it? how do they make it?
shawn’s photo. shawn bought me at the date auction btw. this isn’t the date. just a bonus as proof of my pedigree, a good stallion thoroughbred. neigh. nee? who cares i probably should stop comparing myself to horses. maybe a unicorn.
match-tastic. that nailpolish (thanks shawny!) is ecofriendly at good catch the guy showed us how regular polish disintegrates styrofoam plates and this hippie stuff doesn’t at all. i should have asked why good catch has styrofoam plates though. haha. i made a “these people” comment and he asked me what i meant about that when i said something about parkdale, the community to shawn. he thought we were american. nope not american just hugely offensive to every person, place, and thing. no kidding. what the hell were we talking about though? and yes i look tired here it’s one in the morning.
pie-eyed much. shawn got tailed by cops after he dropped me off because we were idled for a bit and my street is hooker drug central. i keep it really real, you know? anyway the po po totally thought i was a prosti. definitely. yo guys hookers go on dates too. i’m sure shawn’s little red black top convertible sports car didn’t at all help matters either hahahhaa. that musta been some nerve-wrackin’ass ride for a lil bit there eh shawn?
look at this girl with her cousin and his friend. she’s like where are the hot guys raymi bring me to them and i’m like go down there. we were both too lazy. k i’ma soop her facebook now BYE.
checking out pictures from friday has just tipped my stoner fog back into the boozy whirlwind tornado what was this night. i am actually overjoyed, well, happy to be granted a ticket back in time to it it’s way better than my current reality ha jokes i should just start emo tweeting again. i remember this night but the pictures make it seem all more surreal, especially cos lucas took them (thanks buddy). i was free for a night (from being house photog) but i still came out with badges of glorious memorable honour. here’s why i never made it to dodgeball. i know i would have been a killer on the court considering how i am a champion mental case at the motion room and all and turning into an olympiad. i am pissed at myself for missing it but oh well, there’s always next year.
fuuuuuuuuuuck you belly shirt see. i gave no cares. i was goin’ lez. i look terrible here but it is a vast improvement from what i looked like when stew arrived.
i wrote love is the meaning of life on the naked body of a dragstar. i changed my mind. love is not the meaning of life. it is the pursuit of life. the meaning of life is to be miserable in the pursuit of love. i am going to start focusing on myself more, and be my own champion and idol. every time i trip up on love it fucks up everything and gets in the way of my game. from now on i am pursuing NOBODY. they have to come and get me and they had better be 10’s. that’s my plan that’s that.
gay music is amazing it’s so primal, it’s got to be. it’s brave to be gay it takes courage so you need mate anthems, jungle adrenaline. there are so many songs i heard i wish i could hear again. no idea how to track them down or to even describe what it is i think i heard.
we consumed three of the peniseclairs. we were animals. all in the exact same kinda bender state. i love my friends for this. i mean. we were a village on the run. together.
robin black was there (you can see his name). he sang. i went alone to karaoke here one night and then received a mean comment about it on my blog the next day, i don’t think anyone is going to leave robin black a mean internet comment for going out on a karaoke date that treatment is purely reserved for yours truly. the feeling of being watched by creepy mean people is a sick feeling up your spine. i also wasn’t totally alone i was talking to mary. i sang and left to meet the kids at mezzrow’s, it was after a date that sucked and i was drunk. you may have seen me, but are the sight unseen. burn on you.
jesus how flinstones is this? my prehistoric bun hair and melodie’s cavewoman print. i’ve never typed this word before EVER nor here but i’m gonna say it now because it’s entirely applicable: AMAZEBALLS.
very hip night. full of love and light and rejoicing, well wishing in the winter, in a foggy gay dance catacomb it really lifted me up. putting lots of things into perspective.
me and the dude. see how i kind of have a type? it’s like, stupid wasted jock up to no good. send ‘em on over! actually it was his singing how he pulled it together and danced.
babushka sweet onion head. who wouldn’t follow that shit around. stew said a cougar at the gladstoner was eyeing me up all over and over. i saw it too so i played into it a bit dancing like a shit show with melodie. give the people what they want. people pleaser, pleasure seeker.
love it. he had a german accent at the end of the night i overheard them all bickering about where they were going, but it wasn’t bickering it was just his tone. i love this about germans they could scare paint off walls with their accents.
stew was a cute kiebler elf. he made fun of me a lot so i ripped on him too. he was wearing my super tight jacket out i wonder if he’s worn it since he looked really slim and cute in it. the one he arrived in was way too aspen extreme for the beaver.
then we traveled to a neat neighbourhood i obnoxiously referred to as an industrial wasteland (the best lofts and spaces are there, dig?) to these great digs.
she harvests her own ice. these drinks man i couldn’t even begin to tell you. crazy syrups pure scientific concoctions, sandy, genius. her partner that guy mike, him too. amazing things coming out of these two very soon will be hitting toronto. go see her at the gladstone though, girl’s famous. was on the cover of NOW.
i won twister last night. awkward twister. christine took these. i was asked not to blog any of it cos people were embarrassed to be going to a singles mixer.
winning. i told everyone in the room how much my day sucked more than theirs and everyone bought me a drink for it. amazing. see by my arms how i am wasting away.
lee dropped this off for me last night at the party. she intrigues me. people who are nice to me and don’t want anything in return, what’s going on there. when older babes want to take you under their wing. she continues to drive this raymi as courtney love point home and i really hate it. she’s not the only one. i am not courtney love i am lauren white. she may be the original trainwreck and we may have the same hair and uh, oh forget it. i’d rather be kurt instead. i am battling my way out of the 27 club jinx.
red flag and i went together, not as dates just as bait. he was purposely socially awkward and retarded to everyone he spoke to it was highly amusing. kristin and i hit it off immediately and high-jacked the jukebox with all our songs. i forced myself to eat (there was nothing but horrible delicious feelings eating grease). felt nauseous the entire time and then that peppermint gas pill started to expel its way out of me via esophagus and it made me feel even pukier. bad idea.
i drank through it. this was the worst valentines day of my life. this party helped. the day itself, bullshit. party, not bad. hidden in the backroom of the fox n fiddle where NO ONE we know in the city will find us was also great as it was the scene of my many past karaoke crimes and hole my ex and i used to drink in once in awhile out of sheer laziness as we lived on st. george.
i threw my bread on his nametag. felt right. we spent last v day together and it was kind of hilarious too, not allowed to post pictures. don’t worry it is not at all what you think though if you look in my archives i’m sure there’s mentions.
kristin and i beat our pool opponents. i have no idea how because i was totally in a cosmic state at this juncture. i came down with a weird flu bug of stress pain, nausea i do not know but i was not feeling right or well. see how vodka can be a dangerous medicine. i would have stayed in but it was valentines day and i don’t think i could bump into anybody to have sex with in my room that way.
we didn’t want to show up to the party sober so we met at the hole what is the james joyce. red flag was like, old people crowd. i said, perfect. of all the places in my old neighbourhood i’d say the james joyce is my most despised and one we least haunted. it always smelled like windex and made me feel sick. so going there feeling sick, great idea. i didn’t want to bump into a soul i knew last night so sorry for that awkward meet and dash greeting when we initially arrived at the fox, nothing personal.
these were the worst best fries ever and exactly what i needed. we all know i don’t eat this shit. only when i feel like shit. i’m in the manic part of a depression right now so i don’t think it will affect me.
never noticed this light before. do whatever you can to fix this shit hole right. it’s for university kids and sad bastard drunks. a man talked to me immediately when i went over to the bar to order a drink and i said DON’T TALK TO ME hahahahha. red flag was like this place is great, i didn’t order a drink cos she was eating but i ordered your fries. so i went over with attitude and looked at her like she was a fucking idiot (she totally was) meanwhile she’s holding court to loser skid row of pathetic scroungy drunk derelicts. i hate bad servers. when someone walks into a bar it is your duty (LAW!) to put a drink in their hand so they don’t leave.
mr. cute suspenders. i wanted to go as an understated dickhead so i could blend into the background just in case things got too hot and i couldn’t stand the heat. they did and i could. here here.
affan le pimp. his dance moves made me laugh so hard i have no idea how you can dance in a back arch formation all the way down to the floor while holding a full pint in the middle of a black out and go up and down like king shit but he did it and it temporarily ruined my own dance moves because it was one. awesome and two. hilarious. affan i am gonna put you in the category of liked.
um i have no eyelashes i am the girl on america’s next top model who gets her eyebrows done and then it’s like where is your face? i wonder if this picture is before or after he cozied up to me like a pepe le pew and tried to jam his tongue up in to my mouth. how funny was that shawn?
this was super late. we were on a tear. there needs to be a toronto sosho-media bachelor/ette brats reality show. we all give’r together, some people may or may not motorboat behind the scenes just for fun.
happy valentine’s day go fuck yourrself brah. no seriously. pick up a massager tax free before february’s over with my RAYMI15 DICKSCOUNT at Good For Her. purrr bzz bzz buzz. vive le brock.
components. when we go to the family day gathering tour of Shasha‘s factory like somethin’ out of willy wonka and the chocolate factory, except, adventurehouse on the loose at a bread factory eating fresh bread right out of the oven YOU CAN JOIN US PLEASE DO! melodie is stoked, she’s a naturopath so this bio buds healthy sciencey stuff, (oh right she’s becoming a scientist or something too) my colleague tells me there is nothing like fresh baked goods and our take will be loads of loaves of bread and ginger snaps but most importantly, spelt bread. melodie is gaga for it. i am now too since having easy’s rotisserie chicken on spelt twice over. the point of all that crap is this meal in these wonderful photos will get better once i get my hands on nicer bread.
Family Day 2011 OPEN HOUSE something great to do with your kids cos they’re gonna be home from school anyway HOW GREAT FOR YOU FANTASTIC HAHAHA BURN.
Monday, February 21st, 2011
10 am – 1 pm
Location Meeting Point: 20 Plastics Avenue, Etobicoke (Across from Costco) off the Queensway, East of Islington)
See the inner workings of our factory and sample our products fresh off the line during our second annual Open House tour, led by ShaSha himself.
NEW this year is a chance to be the the first customers to experience our new product line, Bio-Bud, through the spread of select recipes prepared for you. Learn about its qualities, how we use Bio-Bud in our products and taste for yourself what a healthful and versatile food it is!
Details and requirements for joining our Tour:
* There is one walking tour with ShaSha to commence at 10:20 am… if you arrive late an escort will fast-forward you to the tour.
* Be prepared to eat fresh off the line. We are excited to show you the science and future of baking.
* Jewelry should be left at home or in your car to maintain sanitation and safety at the plant. They will be requested to be removed prior to entering the plant… we cannot ensure responsibility for its safe keeping.
* Hair is to be tied back and/or guests will be offered a hair net cap while inside the plant.
* Children are quite welcome to participate in the tour, under full monitoring by parents/guardians. Please note that our facilities/environment cannot host the needs of children under 2.
* We are a nut-free manufacturer, however if you have a condition to wheat, spelt, or other ingredients please let us know in advance.
* There will be photography permitted at the end of the tour, please NO photography during the tour!
To register, email info@shashabread.com
Subject title: Family Day registration
i also assure you that shasha, the guy himself, is a trip. he may as well be as eccentric as willy wonka. i wonder if he owns those movies.
adorable. these are delicious too. can you imagine eating only shasha stuff for 2 weeks? we were considering raymi doing that but i think i would die of boredom. plus, hello carbs.
i am sneaking in scotch bonnet when we go and that ali’s roti sauce that could kill a canary instantly. i think the scotch bonnet will suffice on second thought.
so i’ll do a high end version of this and guess what? i am seriously going to start cooking again. do you know how much i have gleaned from my cuisinery barfly touring of toronto? remind me to make a list of every resto i’ve been to. i made a list of every burnoutington restaurant i dined and feasted at all the while being a twig stoner hoovering my way through restaurant chain after greasy fast food joint, you name it. i even broke my stringent three year mcdonald’s ban.
ooh in this one i’m having pasta after a year of no pasta, at bar mercurio. love that place. i discovered it. me. taking it back.
the butter i was just trying to melt for our toast. next time will be spelt toast. my dad loved these stoner mountains. they taste pretty much exactly like how they look. gloriously awful and bland but amazing and retarded. ketchup for dipping sauce too. epic trash. i halted on the squeeze tube pesto (haha) didn’t want to fuck with the fantastically mellow method of this shit pile.
have you guessed the ingredients yet? 4 eggs. half a rotisserie chicken from mary lou’s that i tore apart like a beast it was a great moment. i ate some of the skin but included every fatty gross part of the chicken i could and skin cos i wanted the fat to flavour this concoction.
my stoner mountain. dad’s was way bigger, and i let him have the leftovers. normally i am a greedier but i had no appetite yesterday at all. post funeral insanity kept myself lubed on oyster bay and steady ganj intake. i battled an anxiety attack all morning long. oh right i forgot the rest of the ingredients, mary lou’s taters. they’re seasoned but you really can’t taste a thing. i added pepper and salt and a bit of garlic salt. still pretty bland. the cheese helped but i wasn’t feeling flavour. i think i’m sick. well i have the sad sick, no appetite, i feel hollow and gaunt. it took me over an hour to spoon force feed myself apple sauce and my coffee craving has been minimized. still drinking it though cos it’s the only thing i can manage. bit of grapefruit perrier.
my workout lifted my spirits but i was a pathetic catastrophy waiting to happen so james moved me to cardio. i collapsed during push-ups, so weak. i ran on the treadmill at 7 clicks listening to this
once it gets to the heavy part i turn into the bad cop in terminator 2 chasing the car. sometimes i run so fucking fast i think i am a genuine athlete. the faster you run you can almost outrun your problems and the adrenaline hike is just like raaaaaaaaaawr you can bury your insanity in it pounding out a never ending flee. music is very helpful in working out and putting out the world. i also ran just as hard to she walks on me, hole. of course i did. assholes.
i liked this and kismet happenings when you’re in a certain headspace or way. i would absolutely LOVE to exist on a floating orchard. read half of this. basically a woman is in love with her house that her grandpa made. then i actually looked at her, she’s got crazy black hair and some grey in it and a rumply cute apple boomer generation face. actually, not too different from my own in this photo:
i love little babushkas. i am getting married as soon and as fast as i fucking can so i can fulfill my lifelong wearing an apron forever fantasy. rick asked me a million times if i was sure i wasn’t italian, his nickname now is the croat. haahaha. anyway where was i? oh who cares i think a spinster from the annex made that book and i find that hilarious and i don’t know why.
and also on that same day we were margot tennenbaum, both went to a funeral. man, when she got up on that piano in those amazing heels at the grammys i was so scared nervous for her. i loved the grammys by the way. it was the perfect thing to experience and watch. so many perfectionist performances i was spellbound.
this month has been pretty trying so without further ado, here is how i handled my february hand of cards last night. i went out to meet a dude at cadillac lounge. i had a hamburger. i haven’t eaten a hamburger since i worked at the central so this might be an indication of how i was feeling at the time. i arrived late by cab even though it’s just down the street. i was a disaster but i looked very pretty, glowing. i do full glam makeup when i feel hung to dazzle camouflage the trash i am feeling. yesterday i felt super white trash and i didn’t want to hear or discuss one single above G-level rating thing. period. no man stress, no drug stress or booze or anything, no fighting no yelling everyone please go away. i bawled my eyes out when i got home in time to decide there was no chance in hell i was making it to the dodgeball tournament.
i am even skinnier than this right now. stress sad skinny. i’d post the photo i took of myself last night before i went out but i think people are still too conservative and hush hush about how i post nudes like we dance around it and i dunno, i guess it makes me look insane. i showed one of these pictures to army guy who i met last night (i met him at wolf parade too once prior to this, he doesn’t live in the city so, nothing’s really gone anywhere and i have pissed him off a lot by my paltry jagged methods of flirt correspondence) and in one of my nude photos i’m grinning, teeth showing. i said i looked insane in this one and he said yeah there is something insane about a smiling naked person. he’s really funny and smart, great personality. is totally into messes. he’s been on cnn. house away from the city (appealing) blah blah blah.
the balance of personal life stress to work stress should always be tipped in the favour of work stress. one should always always be stressed out more so by work and consumed by that rather than personal life. when work is your escape from the personal, shit is not good in the hood. i’m feeling this way lately and noticing too many people around me are too. toxic. not good times. i’m pretty much going on a late february escape hiatus once family day is over. i am expediting my passport this week. running away is one of my favourite self-indulgences.
when i showed up to the cadillac i cutely jokingly said i don’t want to pay! when i came in looking at the cash tray on the table and the admittance fee sign whatever dumb thing it bore. two rockabilly guys standing there, one on the left says OF COURSE YOU DON’T HAVE TO PAY, LOOK AT YOU! meanwhile rockabilly asshole on the left goes PAY EVERYBODY PAYS.
i was kidding because i had already used my debit card in the cab (guys, here is one of my secret shames. i use my debit card like it’s a bottomless cab fare well. i am lazy and gross and disgusting with money. i see this as bad as a shoe shopping addiction) and i didn’t want to take out any money AND i was on a semi-date-hang well, i was expecting army guy to pay for my hangover beer and hamburger. he ended up not doing that, he is not someone to use, i can tell. i was being tested to see if i was a gold digger bitch. my bill was 18, i paid/tipped 23, the 2 of which came from army guy (why am i adding these details???) and i had a grasshopper. the burg was delicious. army guy had just had kraft burger. i was jealous.
so i told him absolutely everything of why i was a mess. i had nothing to lose and i had already gotten what i wanted out of him anyway, his company. maybe that is why i go on so many dates. actually, that is precisely why i go on so many dates. i cannot be alone. you try being alone with myself for 48 hours. 48 hours of non-stop raymi. gaaaaaaaah nightmare. i go through humans like crazy as soundboards because i am a giver, once i’m all empty i have to consume a new person to fill the void again. i am a pleasure seeker and people pleaser. it was convenient that army guy is attracted to hot messes. before i put the word out to head out i had made tentative arrangements to meet one of the pbc up by bloor/keele (why? so far!) at a pub. if things went well with army guy then i would have followed him around a bit more but he was staying at his friend’s condo and i don’t think they’d appreciate us spooning in the middle of the livingroom on the floor. hey what’s going on here? shut up and get out otherwise you are going to be the little spoon.
so army drove me to pbc. he said i was very demanding. we got almost there and then pbc says he’s meeting another pbc member at the dakota. so we turn the fuck around as i texted back omg fuck you i was right around the corner. as we are going to the dakota another text, oh you are? come! we’re upstairs. so now i know i am totally pushing my luck with army guy but its kinda obvs we wanna car hang so he doesn’t mind turning back AGAIN to the pub and unbeknownst to him the pbc member had also said come here first so i can impress my soccer team with how hot you are. challenge accepted. i said super pissed, on way back, ride just turned around 3 times stay there tell team.
army and i make out in the car. it was great. he’s a good kisser, i of course, am immaculate. he also tried to mindfuck me into thinking he didn’t kiss on the first date and that all chicks from pof are just sluts or fat so now of course i have to pretend to be a prude. i went in for an awkward attack with my mouth open and then i just hung there embarrassed because i didn’t want to kiss someone with their mouth closed like it was kindergarden. i wanted to die. then we made out. two guys on the sidewalk double-taked me as i passed. my pants were very low and i was very sad skinny and my back dimples were showing. leather jacket and casie’s too small for me black sweater she left here one night. when i show my belly it’s a subtle fuck you to everyone. people have varying degrees of reaction to it that i pretend to not notice. when i wore my pink turtle neck to the beaver and afterward at sandy’s i let it hike so incredibly high it’s practically a tummy shirt what are they called again? belly shirts. these nights when i go out as a wastecase adorable loser sloppy mess with a belly shirt on it’s like i am a magic snowflake of shamelessness and it attracts a lot of tail. a lot. but inside i am dying, i really am. it’s like i can’t control this monster, but i can, and choose not to. not only that, i “turn”. i’m not a bad drunk or anything, i do get lippy. last nite rick said in toronto, no one would shove you like that (pbc got shoved at the dakota by the door guy. this is getting too long already so i’ll have to tell that story later) in scotland or something they’d not do it cos they know they’d get a fucking punch and it’s true. i really do believe that in some certain situations, violence is the answer. i declared at the front of the line that i wasn’t violent. but i could change.
this is an unflattering angle but i assure you last night was a skinny night and today i feel positively skeletal. it will not last though. right so, i climb the stairs neurotically, i’m still totally mangled and that one grasshopper didn’t do the trick, i ran out of weed so it’s all complete edge, none taken off and every guy i pass returns my gaze. rick who i met last nite said i look everyone in the eye. i do. so i don’t want this much attention right now at all. i am pub drinking boy’s kryptonite. i was extremely hesitant to go out at all because i know pbc’s fondness of me and it always ends the same and even though i’m needy and selfish and craving man attention i morally believe it’s wrong to take advantage of someone who you know wants you but he’s your friend and you like hanging. there is no solution to this.
i enter the back room. i like this pub it’s cozy as hell. it is perfect. i wonder if all pubs are cozy cos all british/irish/scottish etc people are always hungvoer and therefore always crave a fire and a pie and a pint hahaha firepie. ok so naturaly this table of hot soccer players look up at me as i enter and see me before pbc does, his back is to the threshold. immediately everyone is like, uh oh. the room gets a little more tense. i take the head of the table seat so i can stare at all of them. pbc is spellbound by me, he’s already tipsy which is bad because i get way cuter that way and then i do this thing where i turn the dimples on because i am enjoying being buttered up so fucking much it’s intoxicating it really is i don’t even need to order drinks all that flattery is enough for me. it’s mean and i shouldn’t do it but i do it anyway. for some reason, pbc is in perma-friend placement meaning, we do not get drunk and make out and it is infuriating him which pisses me off and then we fight and bicker. he is also seeing someone he finally informs me so what the fucking shit is that? i am sick of man shit stress liars players all of you fucking assholes look at what you are doing to me. look at what you do to women. not all of you but just the ones i’m attracted to.
exhale. ok i have to go plan a funeral outfit now. things just keep looking up. i think i’ll wear my black jumper i wore the night of the date auction. irony?
tomorrow is valentines day. when someone dates the city and every night is already valentines day for you pretty much you’d think the pressure would be on ten times more so. not to mention i got engaged on valentines day. the real reason it’s so cut throat is because women have to one-up each other all the fucking time. sad really. i think i one-upped everyone enough already and i don’t think getting the cutest richest man will make people like me anymore like how one chick clearly invented a date for herself at the auction to rub our noses in it when clearly the kid with wavy fluffy hair wanted to be miles away from this event. she trotted this boy in front of us, like we cared and the stank of desperation was palpable. we do not like each other at all, she went on a secret movie date with a guy i was semi-seeing on and off, she is a cunt who freaks out on other girls a lot then blogs about how no girls like her. she can’t get along with them because she does something to piss them off then like blacks out on why there’s beef. retarded. anyway i actually wanted to talk to her at the love a heart thing and maybe extend an olive branch, at the very least suss her out but no, she made zero seconds of chit chat with me before eagerly forcing an introduction of her date on me. hi, i am at a date auction event where i am to be auctioned off. because i am singlish. where you weren’t asked to but you came to be smug or something? i bet you would have been sold for a lot of money too. i cannot wait to hear how your valentine’s day turns out.
what am i doing? probably something i really really shouldn’t be.
severe prior to eyebrow tinting. stew came in my room last nite and said i looked really scary. i had my base on only so zero eyebrows or lips total shock of white. albino. plus my hair. i was a disaster yesterday. somethin’s in them february waters you know? we had drinks at sandy’s, bartender of the year. she got us destroyed. stew casually says oh that’s right the last time i hung here i didn’t wake up til 10pm the next day. oh thanks stew. i sang roy rorbison’s crying at the gladstone. we were on a tear. we started at the beaver. i wasn’t going to do anything because i was a legit mess but stew brought three tallys of stiegl and me him mel luc share them in my room i get an outfit together and we go to celebrate will munroe’s birthday. everybody in the back room held a candle, 36 of them. i have mine still. we were a real life birthday cake. my phone was dead. i stopped existing and i lost contact with you know who. he mind fucked me. i hate everything now. my camera batteries, dead too. it is amazing how much one’s addiction to their gadgets affects and alters their moods. also because i am a compulsive documenter not having my tools with me made me feel useless. i really wanted to photograph sandy’s place and her stuff. i guess it’s more special that way. i always like to have evidence, a memento. i am terribly sentimental. i have a photograph of every single person who has been in my room ever. sitting on my bed. clothed or not.
stew was great last night though. he said i cannot leave you here tethered to your laptop because that was my intention. severely neurotic like a caged unblinking lemur. i flirted with a fuck ton of chicks last night to remedy everything. brought back a wholesome gay bait jock guy to the beaver from gladstone to also remedy my ego. but he was extremely wasted and therefore totally, ugh. then he says he was at a strip bar all night long. he’s a scoundrel like us. i picked him because he sang suzie q. luc said he sucked. yeah he sucked as a person but he sang the fuck out of that tune. i loved it. he danced too. in my head i was thinking all these objectifying things. told him we were going to the beav to get last call. like all drunk beasts, he followed the golden blond brick road. apparently a guy goosed him he wouldn’t shut up about it i said look get over it and go with it. look at you. i brought dustin there once and oh my god the gay bros were dying. it’s kinda mean to do that i think you can look but this guy likes pussy only you know? i think any dude could easily just be pushed into a scenario where who cares you know? that guy left, i gave him my card. i honestly am a nihilist right now so i don’t care if he ever finds me again. i just know that come monday i’ll have it together. the show must go on. funeral viewing tomorrow. also fantastic right?
when i feel this low the only thing that i can control to make myself feel better is making other people feel better. so i was the key to the beaver party for that guy who would never ever go in there. i said this is a gay bar, after he got his dick squeezed. then i said, so? i love being catty. we shared a beer which he was amazingly grateful because his 24 hour stripper debauchery bender had obliterated whatever little brains he had to get himself into a situation like that to begin with. how do i keep attracting these loser fucks? i he was going to tail us to sandy’s but he gave up, i was relieved. i don’t have the energy to follow unworthwhile pursuits i don’t even want. typically i’m a go with the flow girl.
Well My names Adam ive been a reader of your blog for a while enjoy it alot. Here’s a pic from my fav New York Crack Den the Carlton Arms. Hope i qualify for the Raymi Army.
