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any ideas what this post will be about???? such a mystery! these are lost photos from feb 19. i’m more fit since.

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weirdest worst work outfits i put together to date. nice socks. what am i a garden up one leg? yes, i am.

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this re-energizer bootcamp class was so packed.

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i look like a slob. those hurdles are harder to jump cos they’re higher than the orange ones.

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why do i look hungover i’m so not, i was a good girl the night prior.

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holy shit look at me go leader of the pack much. i’m running a revolution. i’m that girl eating bloody flesh on that t-shirt stew has, in the woods, my bikini-clad mob in-tow, guns. fuck yeah.

like so.

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oh fun such a ball and a ham.

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i’m an animal.

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wow ain’t that something.

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i talk to a lot of gym rats on plenty of fish. some of my profile pics are wicked jock bait. i have gone on dates with guys that i am hands down more fit than and stronger than i am constantly sizing myself up to them. luc was like i don’t think i could take the military guy. oh, no shit eh, you don’t say hahahah! james and shannon keep asking about him too i was like oh dude that was so two weeks ago.

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landin’ like a nana.

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way graceful.

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ugh why do i even.

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lately when i start to go spazz when i’m talking and can’t effectively communicate my psychotic ideas i tell people that i was born with a learning disability. NOT ONE PERSON HAS REFUTED THIS! then i get piss shocked face incredulous. whatever.

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now what the fuck am i doing? who do i think i am sometimes right guys? hahaha.

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i’m getting better at that move. sundials? you rotate 4 times clockwise then counter. fun. i love anything that works my triceps.

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ooh my fave. this is my training for the apocalypse station. pull drag drag and then push it like an ox.

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that’s the russian nightmare near me hahah. one day i might train with him. i think he’s afraid of me even though he is basically something right out of mortal kombat hahahha. he thinks i’m a russian mail order bride probably. i think i spy him watching me murder myself on the treadmill like a total f–ing lunatic some mornings for warm-up.

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hahahaheehehehea nice. so tryng to impress jeff here. that chick in the foreground to the right came from the magical world of facebook. social media works for business yo! but you need a virtual salesman like me to push it.

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rah scary raymi. scary raymi army. anyway, here is an example of how funny my life is and how fun. i get to take my diva persona into emails, business emails. here’s an example of a back and forth one from yesterday.

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HEY RAYMI WE HAVE THIS TOTALLY STUPID CONCEPT/PRODUCT INVENTION AND ZERO SOCIAL RECOGNITION OR INTERNET INFLUENCE WE ARE GOING TO GIVE YOU OUR CRAP TO HOCK ON YOUR BLOG THAT YOU SO DON’T WANT AND NO ONE WILL EVEN GO FOR BUT PLEASE DEMO IT FOR FREE THANKS THIS IS(N’T) A HUGE OPPORTUNITY FOR YOU HOCUS POCUS ALAMALOCUS!

me: i don’t promote for free what is your budget?

UM, WHAT ARE YOUR STATS?

me: ten k daily

ZERO RESPONSE.

it’s not that i get as many hits as xiaxue (so don’t) or the like, it’s me, i am the influencer here and look at my alexa ranking. i have put company’s business on the internet map just by linking to them repetitiously. i’ve raised the level of my frenemy’s blogs too so i don’t really link to them anymore. the closer i get to the 10,000 ranked website in canada, the pool of competition thickens exponentially. i have been too kind to too many for too long.

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in short, i busted my ass to get where i am now here, how much is it worth to you to have an advertorial with raymi? it’s worth a lot, it’s more effective to be seen here, my finger is on the pulse. people battle daily for my opinions, responses, whatever why am i even saying all this? i think i am still defensive about this entire blogging racket and i am tired of explaining it to people the same crap over and over again. HEY YOU CAN MAKE MONEY FROM THAT WHOLE NEW-FANGLED INTERNET BLOG BOX THING HOW DO I START ME ONE OF THOSE? ugh.

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i take all my rage out at the motion room. they’re turning me into linda hamilton and i am making the personal trainer rounds right now for variety, it’s fun. but i can’t try my tricks with the new ones so it’s more effective. even when james is screaming at me i am like oh baloney shut your face then laugh like hell into my towel as i am lying in a disgusting pile of my sweat.

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not enough weight on this i need lots because i am a rhinocerous.

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too light and i do a face plant.

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always wear tighter clothing. i am shrinking and learning this and i know i’m in the zone when i start to shrink out of my clothes or for five minutes i look like a lanky praying mantis or jimminy cricket then it’s all downhill from there. yes. downhill from looking like a grasshopper that’s right.

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yummy and weird but my arms, blah gross. they’re much better now.

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shannon you are a twig. go eat some bon bons.

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jumping jacks.

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i like aerobicsy stuff cos i can practice my dance rhythm and i pretend i am a cyborg fitness video background demonstrator dancer. i also like the floppy flop of my ponytail because i now associate with thumper and that’s the direction i am steering my brand. bambi bunny playmate. look, you think I think i’m insane? can you imagine the machinations going on in the head of an ACTUAL chick who takes this stuff legitimately seriously? my word.

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i mean the whole blond bombshell vacant mess hollywood thing.

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it’s what being insane ALL the time is like.

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lying in a hammock staring up at a palm tree will make it worth it.

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flop.

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TMR has been a great anchor for me the past few months. can’t wait to see how the globe and mail edits it altogether. i have to start getting more comfortable on camera and be more natural. yess’m.

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i am good at the wall thing.

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that’s my friend mara! hi! cute french braid too. so cute. the ball thing that girl is doing is fun and easy and great for your abs.

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speed tubing punches.

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that’s the smart face.

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seeing these helps motivate me as i look better than this right now it’s kind of a phewf don’t go backwards thing. helpful in this case. document your progress.

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sometimes i give myself a gold star for cuteness. nailed it.

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some are so great, cute and then weird things in the background all over taking place.

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i am going to get my ass insured one day. how does that work? so weird eh haha.

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i need to get gloves.

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oh god this one’s a challenge. goood luck budd-ay!

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bewbs dewds.

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haha i just thought of something mean and snarky to say to defend myself the next time someone says people only read my blog cos i’m hot or naked i’ll go totally that’s right cos if i looked like you no one would read this thing at all ever. me-ow.

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shaved head guy by the wall worked me out on tuesday, andrew. i did very well.

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no mo effin’ around fo me bikini season is nearing. everything season. i think you need to be ready to be sir nakes-a-lot always. you never ever know.

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crazy plank. so easy to fall over. i tapped casie over for fun haha.

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down she goes.

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oh there’s a face.

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i see tongue.

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saved it.

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me and casie finally meet face to face.

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hey buddy.

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ahhahahahha wicked.

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i was so sweaty i changed. hi shannon! one important thing shannon and i both agree on for fitness is having manicures. hahaha. look at my nails. perfect.

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hottie! from the internet! the internet breeds hot women. fact.

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i heard a certain someone really likes this station during bootcamp.

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people were supposed to do slow lunges on the treadmill but i was a hyper insaniac so i cranked it to 9 and ran like blow darts were after me.

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i’m meeeeeelting.

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this is what we do to the motion room and who wrote that? that’s the sleaziest word you could come up with? C-. may as well have written NERD WAS HERE. by the way all the hotties in the background, various trainers and the like all party on TMR’s facebook page so if you were fat and had a crush, well, that’s where you go.

also, drum roll please, ready for the heavyweight challenge?? you’re gonna f–ing LOVE this one…

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these bros (dan and walter) are going head-to-head, toe-to-toe, belly-to-belly, for a six month weight loss challenge.

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meet dan. he first fell in love with me here. baahahah first comment in that post is anonymous: i have a crush on james. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH!

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walter.

oh boy this is going to be super fucking good. i’m going to work out with them one day maybe i will get to yell at them like i yelled at my mom when i made her do supermans. i love challenges.

OK BYE! SEE YOU AT THE BEACH!

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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.

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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.

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holy crap look at my mug.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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ok bath time.

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i don’t even know where to begin i feel overwhelmed right now agggh internet here i am positively hysterical it’s been so long. be careful though this post may contain some newdity. i’m trying to hype myself up into composing a letter to playboy and to stop rejecting the person that i am. senor nakedface.

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forgot to add truffles from a leopard print forest. started with princess soap cos i have a particular kind. dove. from the baby department because it smells like baby powder and then i use baby powder on top of that and douse myself in 4 different kinds of perfume. my body rejecs all of this anyway because i am 1. extremly toxic and 2. my natural born with scent is a good one. you know some people smell repulsive? i do not. i think i was born to be a minx sometimes, so many things just so totally align and then it’s like ahha, no brainer obviously my back arches like so and my well, you know…

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we’ll take it from the top. here i am on the train, semi-drunk and my blackberry battery was running low so i had better settle on a plan soon before i stopped existing, still no internet at home no point to rush directly there. this is the last train in to my fair city. i went to not my dog to meet a PBC member with all my luggage and traveling gypsy bullshit, my big steve madden bag knocked over musician when i came in. i later left with him. we had unfinished business to attend to.

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i was still sick and kind of tired but it was early and i dunno, just had to do it. oh right i know why, my latest fling had fizzled and i needed a replacement fix.

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serial daters cannot be rewired.

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so i focused on the fact that i will not let my mojo die or fade. i will never look like this again. i may look better than it actually. fucking right i will with a tan? ballin’. anyway. i’m going to submit to that magazine that i said i would. you know when you’re watching the girls next door then they all of a sudden go topless (in canada at least we show nudity on tv here) and you’re all shocked to see holly’s perfect fake tits? it’s like oh yeah right they’re like creatures of perfection pinging every single playmate stereotype possible, posing 101. anyway i practiced my playboy poses and took some amateur self shots. i think i fit the mold, despite my flatness. i have seen some super flat girls in playboy before and it was shocking but then almost more perverted i was thinking, how is this possible? it gave me confidence to see it.

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actually completely covered here but still pretty raunchy. why should i be ashamed of this, my body? how many girls out there with better bodies than me? tons. they can’t show theirs though like i can cos of whatever vanilla society role they play. natalie portman in (mom what magazine was that?) style? in style? man i’m ignorant anyway she said it was very french to emphasize a feature that one might see as a flaw, her stylist said for her to only ever wear flats despite her short height, he said everyone else would tell her to war heels. being short is her strength. so for me it would be my nose, and being flat chested. how often do i highlight how flat i am, or my huge nose, all angles i always tilt so you can see that they’re adding it as a hill at blue mountain. i have a strong french streak so this makes sense, my provocateur ways and bawdy flat indifference. i was born to be backlit and naked in a parisian window, a funny cigarette betwixt my thumb and forefinger. that is my destination to be encased in that moment, a muse. i must be my greatest lover ever. listening to some weirdos poetry until one day someone impresses me.

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boom came through with a delivery. april was there with my colleague and she said she liked her eggs like she liked her men, over easy and dark. fuckin a-men sista. i think we might have a slumber party this friday me and her to be up and at ‘em for our chemical peels saturday morning and it’s tarek‘s birthday friday night and no you are not invited we’re all full thanks (haha kidding)(NO I AM NOT!) ahh man i can’t wait i need a new circle rotation i am jonesing for these people it’s been awhile. i need to be scolded by tarke to write my book again and to get over the drama and haters and all the other crap i make up in my head and obsess over.

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wore this on my dayte yesterday. i brought my plaid back-up. i bought 4 shirts at mapleview mall on monday. retail therapy. said with zero irony, sheepishness or legally blondisms. my mom put it crystal clear, she is ocd about having filled closets because they never were growing up. one outfit only. i have inherited this for sure i realized yesterday as i was doing laundry, round one and discovered brand new things i JUST bought and was high off of all over again.

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this is a smug little belly shirt. a small from f21 meant to be worn bigger and looser i just can’t deal something so big though these tings fit everyone differently, snowflakes people do not assimilate ever. i know it’ll shrink and turn into my pinky turtleneck, one of my manipulative shirts. that one is manipulative and smug. this one is droopy and sloppy all over the place.

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burn doing better since i have been slathering it with vitamin e.

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starbuck’s is turning to the dark side. i had to tell my barista today how horrible my valentines day was cos she saw me the morning of. she is vegan and PERFECT and tall and hot and ENGAGED and perky and odd and a total beauty queen and i am a skidrat wombat-eyed scary mascara uni-bomber sunglasses post work-out disaster when i see her. she’s like so how was your valentines day and i wince and go ahah yeah i was kind of afraid to tell you. well lets see, i got a death threat (guy barista behind her goes WOWCH!) on the internet and the guy who i was supposed to see emailed me half an hour before he’s supposed to land to tell me he’s not coming, i was nauseous all day getting progressively worse replete with chills, aches, pains (at least i was skinny) went to a singles mixer with my ex who was socially retarded and purposely rude to every single girl he spoke to cos there was no one he liked. i wasn’t attracted to anybody, i didn’t want to tell her or anybody else the rest of the deep shame of that night but it’s safe to say hands down it was the absolute fucking worst valentines day of my life i would have killed myself except a family kin already did that and i am not that cruel. oh yeah i was still reeling from the suicide funeral i attended the day before. lovely!

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so an adorable chapter of the co-dependent singles club got together to set me up with the manager of a restaurant lois has been trying to sandwich me together with for awhile now but i keep meeting assholes getting hung up and off them and then you know, other stupid shit. i went to my mom’s this weekend to be babysat and nursed back to health and mooch the internet. i brought nothing to wear out. i brought my rubber boots like a giant baby and i was a sick sweaty disaster so i told lois monday was off. then i changed my mind but i had to buy an outfit. mom gave me some flats, i bought 4 shirts at f21 and then met lois at the bar. show time.

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mom that shirt does not photograph well on your big jugs. give it to me. lois and i are talking strategy.

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nobody understood my shirt and lois kept trying to get me to wear her red angora sweater. i took it to go. this guy was not that into me and my mom was judging him, vibing him out and i was being super nice flashing my vanna whites a lot and dimples but neither were really feeling it. his world is this bar. negatory. lois i hope you’re not bummed.

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that’s gary across from me. he wasn’t drinking so naturally i made fun of him like crazy. i said he looked like ellen degeneres in that white tennis sweater vest. i like gary. i said i would go make out with the manager and he’s like no you can’t do that with guys cos then they think you do that all the time i’m like, hmmm, interesting.

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i’m eating the blackened chicken. it wasn’t at all spicy. the potatoes it comes with are retarded amazing.

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this is what i ate all weekend long. that bowl is a family relic artifact.

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mmm.

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MMMYUM!

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my plaid shirt. guys are suckers for plaid it’s a little disappointing and thrilling at how easy it is.

this is going to be a two-parter i don’t want my laptop to explode before i get a chance to publish.

next up: guide to dating tips.

i don’t think you are ready for this, new discovery of mine. i am about to be super rich now because i have figured out how to get rid of hand wrinkles. pour boiling water on it and burn your skin off. voila. (for the morons out there reading this no do not actually do that, thank you, i do the dumb things so you don’t have to).

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it’s like, the tanorexic aunt’s face/entire body in something about mary.

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i don’t think i’ll have a scar or skin difference in colouration/pigment change though with my luck, it’s probably safe to say that i will definitely have exactly all that and then a tree will fall on me. it’s nice how the vanilla tone of the sheets brings out the tan burn, makes it pop. my hand is SO ready for bikini season now. i have been slathering lotion all over it obsessively like eight pints of st. ives. last summer from biking like a maniac all over town my hands became very tanned and leathery. i am going to find the strongest spf lotion there is. i am doing summer right this time. the minx nails set off my hand tan too. sigh.

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butt watch!

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on the mend now. woke up bathed in sweat. i hate sick sweat. i love getting pneumonia from my own sweat, that’s super fun.

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ok that’s all i have for you right now. raymbotumblr will have some action for you periodically (if you can make sense of it, place is ‘tarded over there) if you’re jonesin’ hard.

i just forgot what day it was.

cabin fever!

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rocky needs a haircut. i don’t know what i am looking at anymore. where is up?

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ahh dudes i’m so sick. frowny face. looking at this carpet picture made my allergies sinuses everything act up. so stuffed up. there will be an over-abundance of the word “up” in this post. callin’ foreshadow. stamped it. (actually i was wrong).

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this retarded month of commuting back and forth all over and sitting in drafty coffeeshops has taken its toll on my immune system see, this is how homeless people die. they never get proper rest or shelter, always on the move in their patched-up too big for them coal miner pants and stick with red kerchief full of worldly possessions bindle hahah but you know what i mean, too much hustle and bustle, public spaces, no good for you. i’m just used to being a cave sloth, doing my jobs, then back to my nest. haven’t been able to do that with proper rests in between. there is always something, right folks.

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stupid mishaps, foibles, and catastrophes (i can’t believe there’s no i in catastrophes) are what fuel my blog and life in general i suppose. what the hell would i write about otherwise?

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life would just be pictures then, no stories. eeeeeeeeerrrrkkk that’s me screech steering us away from that sort of fairy talk for the rest of this journey.

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being a work out person makes you 50% more body conscious. i’m like jersey shore up here, caucasian edition, always lifting my shirt up and shit.

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except for my face, that’s still kind of orange.

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hahahah HEADQUARTERS. do we know who’s in charge? hmm it’s a mystery. we might have to hire professionals to figure it out.

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i battled and fended off a chill for 2 days. then friday night, the night of adventurehouse (which i didn’t go to i was that run down) which was amazing i hear, everything fell apart. well, my glands became engorged and swollen like bull testicles or footballs in my neck. coincidentally this was the night when EVERYONE i love to party with contacts me at once to give’r but meanwhile i have a very important personal appointment to tend to. it always goes this way don’t it.

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in the choose your own adventures grand schemes of things, you can’t choose them all.

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but oh lawdy, we try.

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ladies in hades. perfect name. put a tumbl on that shit!

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ugh and still climbing. guess who is winning, quality or quantity. one guy has offered money to kiss my ass. i have got him at $200, i have not counter-offered or quoted. hahaha. more on this later. well no not that i am not going to do it, i just mean, the whole dating thing. i hate it. i am sick of new people in my life i have enough people. i just want to be tethered to one thing. instead, i waste my life, one to two weeks at a time.

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love this book. my mom bought it for my dad years ago.

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doing buns to see how my hair fares this way, this length. when there’s only a blow dryer in the house or you’re short on time this is a good look. fluke look. at chap’s they almost had to call the newspapers they’d never seen something so wild before. at the coach and four, the more they drank, the cuter i got then every time i passed the gauntlet of people to get to the bathroom from mic to our nook, i passed by ten compliments. i was in an extremely foul mood, an email set me off. it got to a point where i just sat and refused to mingle or move. i loved watching lois have a grand time though. philip and i did a duet, we killed it. at the end i sang thank you by dido and all the british men lined up to basically thank and pay me accolades for it cos that’s one of my raymaoke ringer songs from years ago, i used to do it all the time and i can simulate dido’s accent and yeah, i killed it. killed it with leia buns and brits love dido and never saw or heard it coming. there’s something to be said about standing facing a cluster of moist-eyed soft faced endearing pub lushes smiling at you while you belt one out. laura told me she loves karaoke and fantasizes about her compliments for days on end afterward.

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i miss her. we met off the vice messageboard, she’s one of the original vice kids where raymi the minx began. she took me under her wing when i went to new york. she was 23, i, 18. super cool indie, but better. indie was a slag back then and no one said hipster. can you version 2.0 hipsters envision a world without the word hipster? it happened. no one on vice said the word hipster. seriously. hands to cheeks a la macauly culkin on that one. people were just cool without a label, without marketers re-packing their originality in the form of urban outfitters.

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i just sent her this email:

i want to come visit you.

my life is so different now.

i will be 28 at the end of march. our ten year pumps anniversary is coming up.

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remind me to write about the day i met her one day. it’s an incredible story.

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wah whut hayoooo!

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the socks were irritating the inner-neurotic. i coulda just put them on the other feet, the correct feet and the ribbons would have been aligned symmetrically.

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freak strawberry.

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massacre.

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lime jello is the classic family flavour favoured by us when sick. there’s a bottle of aloe here for my burn that looks exactly like my jello i am eating. WHY DOES EVERYTHING MATCH THAT OCCURS TO ME WAAAH KISMET CHARLIE SHEEN COSMIC ENERGIES blowin’ my miiiind. kidding. no i’m not. yes i am. kidding. just kidding. (hi steph! she laughs when i do the just kidding)(just kidding no she doesn’t)Ughbdshfgdsl ugh brackets forever sorry i am sick and hallucinating enjoy the ride.

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and now the past few day’s from my blackberry’s perspective. this is my fajita salad. i didn’t eat all of it. why can’t restaurants make smaller portions? why do they want to kill all of burlington?

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dad had this. yum. well i tried the burger and it was so totally mass-produced, it made me kind of sad. such a foodie snob. but i love going out and we love chap’s cos we’re weird so i give it a green flag.

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chap’s bathroom. i was extremely overdressed. hahahaa.

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i chose this one because of the catch me if you can-like label. have you seen that movie? the opening title sequence.

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roots scraggly mess after my workout friday morning using TMR‘s office for, you guessed it, internet. sigh. apparently it’s fixed now. ha right, early april fools day joke much lucas?

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weirdest oopsie outfits lately. haha one of my single white female blog (in-denial) stalkers who tries to emulate every single thing i do for 4 years now copied one of my oopsie outfits the other day, the one i wore to shasha what a retard you copied an accident. burn. one time a kid was copying my english quiz so hard and fast he wrote my name as his, i looked over saw it and snatched it out of his hand and slapped it down beneath our teacher’s nose on her desk and everyone around me who overheard died laughing cos andrew was a slack off loser who tried this shit on everyone. i was the class brain, big mouth, teacher’s pet and clown. do you think i let anything slide or an opportunity to get a laugh or be right go? fat chance. also countdown to said SWF copying my buns. clockwork!

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we always sit in the same place, the bar perch. i love people watching here. it feels like being in a barn, completely different from what it looks like on the outside. good place for a religious cult to operate out of or a setting for a sequel to dawn of the dead, board up the windows. i could envision the end of the world going on down here. i told someone on pof that i was training for the apocalypse cos he asked about this photo of me pushing a bunch of weight at the motion room “hey what are you training for?” my approach with men is to be as endearingly snarky as is possible straight off the bat so they know exactly what they are dealing with.

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u training for anything in particular in that one pic?

the apocalypse.

you should probably stay close in case a falling object comes near you, i will throw the undead through a wall to protect you also. no need to thank me.

i, am smooth. el smootho. hahaha tumbling that.

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gotta give it up to brennen, every time i see him he’s got a new look. this time? a little bit of the J man (jesus, who else?) and charles manson. we dubbed ourselves manson and marilyn. how sweet is that?

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what’s not sweet though is my burn. it just gets uglier and uglier by the day. you should probably try not to burn yourselves ever kids just a head’s up. i get really jumpy around hot water now, should have seen me making jello yesterday. christ that was scary.

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classic Veronica Corningstoner. in advertising the advertorial’s impact doesn’t show success until the consumer sees it three times, so repetition is key. what i’m saying is, the next time i say veronica corningstoner it will be committed to your memory.

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love rickard’s white. can you bring me an orange grove with that please? seriously. i had a phase of adding all kinds of real oj and juices to beers.

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big time food fetishist.

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when we hang my dad calls my brother to make fun of him over the phone so shawn can feel like he is with us in person being made fun of. a man at the bar was reading alone over a glass of red wine. he was there last week when my dad and i went for dinner. who is winning, him or us?

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my dad bought these to wear for one of their dr. robert performances for halloween but the night before he saw elton john on tv wearing the same pair, he didn’t want anyone at this party to draw a connection between himself and elton john and the beatles. hahaha oh dad. no i mean go dad. one of the funniest family dis-exchanges happened full circle on that blog, my brother and i still laugh about it and to not be selfish, i shall re-share it again here for all to enjoy and benefit from (laughter is the best medicine):

MOM SAYS: NEED TO THINK OF A BETTER BAND NAME, “GO DAD” IS “GAY”

RAYMI SAYS: OK HOW ABOUT, “MOM SUCKS”?

AHHAHAHahahhaHAHAHAHAHAHH!H!!!!!! yes. high five shawn. don’t feel bad for her she’s ripping on me and telling lies on facebook right now. ugh.

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two birds one stoner, selfies for dudes/blog/twitter. blast that shit out and spread it around. sometimes duckface can’t be avoided. i can’t help it that’s what my face looks like. it’s nana face.

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this was a fat night. immediately after this i ballooned right up. maybe it was the fajita salad and the beer and the sadness. women as they’re pre-menses they’re wolf vultures, it’s scary.

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i wonder what a wolf vulture could look like. amazing obviously.

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i like that rug. where did it come from dad? maybe i’ll buy a nicer one for my room. i might have to mine is full of never been vacuumed once evr and a billion and a billion tickle trunk parties. it was, i forget how much it was. under a hundred. from ikea. it’s the perfect fit though so i need one the exact same size. or, i could just buy a black & decker hand held vac. or their competitor could fucking mail me one already holy shit as if bloggers “pay” for “things” that moms have to buy.

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met the PBC (parkdale boys club) before i took the train out here (again) at mitzi’s yesterday. the spicy eggs are delicious. i wish mitzi’s would put a healthier option on their breakfast menu. like, salad. come on. just one fucking salad do it please.

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by the time we got to sobey’s with my mom (we drove in circles, her attention span steers the car ship man so naturally we were nowhere near the supermarket destination by the time we realised we were nowhere near the supermarket destination) i was hallucinatingly chilled to the bone, train ride wasn’t unpleasant as the one before when i was going to my dad’s (such a gypsy) which was a travelling icebox and packed with commuters. for everyone else yesterday riding with me i’m sure it was unpleasant, i was sniffling like crazy and when i wasn’t i was coughing and sneezing hysterically and frequently. sorry! no one sat near me. aww.

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i bought a bottle of bison sweetgrass vodka to drink through this bullshit, it’s not as good as the other brand though. i like the new tone to my hair it’s like, old lady toned. kind of silvery grey hint. white blond brennen said. i am forcing this smile. i was pretty miserable here. and the rain. blah. i get smiled at alot because i am pretty, yeah i said it, but when i am frowning frumpy mean crabapple face i feel so bad for that cute fool who accidentally looked at me smiling cos he saw the shiny blond puppy but then i am scowling, not at them just at life (can i get-a amen there!) and then their face goes from smile to scolded child i feel so bad, no it’s not your fault at all i feel like saying, i am just psychotically high maintenance and forever kicking schoolyard rocks in my mind a million miles away, in purgatory from a magical place i will never ever get to, understand? all this goes down on my way in to the lcbo as he is coming out, both alcoholics, starting from a high point. raise the bar high. look, i was relatively good friday night, you have no idea the incredible will power it took (sort of, my arm wasn’t exactly twisted) to avoid all those certain people and all the trouble i saved myself from so i had my saturday clear-headed enough, despite my sickness. i had a rough week. i am a whiner baby princess. i earned, needed, and deserved a break from the party and of course i’m guilt-ridden over it. blue eyed silver haired fox learned me a new term, the fear of missing out, forget exactly if that’s the term, FMO what the hell is it called? anyway, you see what i mean. i’ll make it to next advhaus party and the world will still keep spinning. speaking of, should i have a big birthday party or a private pity party?

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swapped tampon brands. i like that they’re marketing to junkies, how very syringe this design is and what’s more, in multi-rainbow colours. a drug addict so totally is the creative marketing director of this brand. some kind of wacky idiot. honestly what’s with the see through vial? is this the days of our lives hourglass? or did this come from my fisherprice doctor kit? where’s the big stethoscope that shit is FUN to scream in to when your brother has the ear buds in.

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ahha and GRANDMA WILL BE PICKING YOU UP TODAY WE’RE GOING AWAY FOR TWO WEEKS. DINNER’S IN THE OVEN, $’S IN THE COOKIE JAR.

should i cancel my work out tomorrow and rest up or commute back into the city tonight, still super sick and dope up on meds and man-up through it? missing work outs gives me huge guilt anxiety.

apologies for typos, i’m tweet/fb-blasting this pre-edit cos i pro like that. impatient. i know nerds are bored and waiting out there for their rayminjection.

SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY HURRAH!

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i must say, there’s something about the atmosphere in BOOM. for me specifically of course cos i’m their poster girl (and it’s nice to eat with the entire kitchen staff and bussers smiling winking and waving at you like you’re marilyn monroe) but i noticed this day that the nice treatment isn’t just exclusive to yours truly, they dole that shit out to everyone like they’re truly nice guys or something. heinous. haha.

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what’s more is, i wasn’t even the one who suggested to eating there. mhhm. military guy wanted to see for himself. fine by me pal.

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hope you know what you’re signing up for though, taking this photo and then, many many more, is part of the deal. BIG part.

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even the garbage ones i’ll use. part of the story.

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i look like my nana papa grandma and grandpa all in one.

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so stoked i wore the same thing pretty much this day and yesterday’s post. VARIETY! actually all the outfits i’m wearing these days are comprised of clothing scraps and various rags in general as we’re out of laundry detergent and because of the lack of internet (fiasco heard round the world, literally it’s just a cable or wire that needs to be attached to the fucking phone pole back of adventurehouse) i haven’t been around much at all to take care of lady chores. anywhooo.

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cheapest all day breakfast to hit the city guys! look! fantastic!

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pictures of what this looks like in the real world coming up shortly. military guy is a tank so obviously he could eat two breakfasts easily, order firstsies first and elevensies after.

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calling card.

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i had the eggs tuscany. i try to mix it up.

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mr. tony was in my favourite! go up to him and have a chat sometime. he’s so funny.

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me and my americanos.

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OMG SO STARVED RIGHT NOW.

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mmmmmmmmm. didn’t get a bite. i NEVER get a bite of the waffle someone always scarfs it down before i even get a chance. hmmph.

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in my brain i just poured thick gravy all over this.

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so you get a huge plate of frites and two huge eggs any way you like, toast AND coffee.

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do i look smarter in these or just a stupid hipster? what kind of frames would suit me better? i need to wear them sometimes it’s not some bullshit lenseless try-hard crap you know sometimes my eyes do get squinty or i look like i didn’t sleep for a thousand years or at night in bars or biking, my little peepers need a boost.

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AAAAAAGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! yahhhh yum. i am losing it. nice knowing you guys thanks for everything.

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wuh oh bitch face emerges.

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that coral polish is fetching in photographs note to self. i lost this one bottle of green emerald polish i have misplaced, best shade to photograph ever. i’ll find pics. where did it go??

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it’s nice to eat here like a customer and not as my crazy in the kitchen running around like a servant self. i do like serving though, well more so hostessing and playing party. ha grown up party hahah snore.

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i love food like this, sloppy stack you mash together. kindergarden forever. oh yeah.

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meanwhile look at his plate, tidy, anal.

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and this would be the guest of honour. insert trumpet blares.

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how perfect.

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i didn’t know i was borderline cross-eyed. wow i learn so much about myself through this blog. never-ending self-reflections.

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military guy is powering through his and i’m still working on my first. LAY OFF ME I’M WORKING OVER HERE! you should see other people’s faces around me sometimes (when they’re eating like normal folk and i’m still snapping my appetizer), perma-hidden camera social experiments. sometimes my friends will give me little insights on people’s reactions to whatever retarded thing i am doing and photographing. aimee one time told me as i pulled out a tiny blythe doll from my purse a woman in a pub in oakville’s eyes bulged out of her head and she thought i was insane. i’m like where is she point her out to me, she did. woman was a beast. keep gawking then lay-day i may be nuts but at least i don’t look like choo. ps. rod stewart haircuts only look good on one person, ROD STEWART (and i know this cos i tried it once).

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DO YOU THINK YOUR HERO WILL EVER GET A TASTE OF A BOOM WAFFLE OMFG!!?

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ok this special begins THIS MONDAY and you can boom it up monday through friday. $4.99 is super cheap for breakfast these days, considering the bustling urban metropolis what is toronto, the most pricey city in the country to live in. on top of the cheapskate $4.99 ticket you can still get tax off with your Raymi D(iscount) List just for reading my blog. i just asked blue eyed silver haired fox what five dollars with no tax was. duuuuuuuuuuh. ok now he’s saying this makes no sense either. it does right?

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i loooove these little plaques, i found a new one.

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i want this in my house. dream house kitchen martha stewart explosion.

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see the coffee cups? cute. of course.

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oh who’s this now?

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emma was sitting at the bar chatting up everyone. what a neat gal. incoming raymbo.

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808 college street just east of ossington, north side, pretty much across from revival.

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what is it 1982 look how grainy these are. I KEEPS IT REAL.

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i’m as cute as a plate of potato frites. you know they put rosemary on that ish eh. i am going to my eat hand now if you’ll excuse me.

now go eat and save and say i said hey OR ELSE (you won’t get a discount silly)(gosh!)

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XOXOXOOXOX

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sharon stoner moment much. i don’t know why but when i look at myself in this headband i think of her. then casino. then all sorts of ridiculous irrelevant having nothing at all to do with my real life person type things. epic thoughts. charlie sheen-level. oh that poor bastard.

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guess who’s a Minx girl now? guess who already was a minx girl since 1983? these are lindsay lohan’s infamous decals, take on tie-dye. my brain was buzzing as these books were put in my lap and piles of designs so i’m not sure i heard kathy exactly but i piece together that she wrote the fuck you herself on the minxicure? either way cuckoo bananas yes please some more of that right meow.

oh no wait, this is the design she had.

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and look what i just discovered when you google lindsay lohan minx look for the picture of the black haired girl in the old man shoes in the diner third row down.

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you cannot pass these up once you see them. i can’t tell you how difficult it was to decide and narrow down.

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whattagwan!

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i want to find a picture of riri with these on so hype.

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woah thanks internet.

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that’s some surrious shhhhhit right there.

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diamond crystals on deck just in case you never know!

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here we go now.

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prep me baby while i rap to you.

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royal walking.

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my finger looks like it got in a bicycle accident like owen wilson’s busted nose then an idiot tried to realign it and this was the best they could do. don’t (do) be jeals of my endearing weirdism too much now.

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gaahaha look at that thing and oh my gosh could there be MORE pop culture references in this bloody thing can we just get through it already people jesus.

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thank youuu.

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reminds me of my ask zandar game. a wizard fortunes game. don’t ask.

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by the way i just got carded at the lcbo. NO IDEA WHY LOOK AT ME I AM 14 AGAIN. actually at fourteen i already looked thirty haha. all that 60 watt exposure from my bedside lamp reading christopher pike.

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this looks so intimate like we are talking about menstruation and feelings and barf, our sexuality. i wonder if rich people get manicures and massages because they are touch starved. how badly do i want to infiltrate a cuddle party anonymously and report back EVERYTHING to you people here!? 8:15 – donald “zanily” steamrolled claudia over to my comforter instantly erupting the secret farting nerds into resounding bouts of geeky giggling. i pretended i was in REM.

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being a girl is the best. being a girl princess waste of space, even better.

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you mean, everything i say is constantly hilarious always to you? no way! thanks! file file file buff buff polish. heheh.

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alexander mcqueen designed these. before he died obvs. kathy wasn’t sure if Minx would still release them. they did.

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on with the first. such an easy and interesting process. you can buy kits for your salon too, someone comes in and teaches you how to minx and off you go.

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while the nails are being cleaned and prepped for application, the minx decals sit beneath the heat lamp. then each one is individually adhered to a nail and fitted to size. then the excess sticker is filed off with a glass file. clean and tidy.

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live minx reporting.

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i should put a photo up on pof with these and say i’m a huge soccer fan. gino jackpot.

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or i really love nascar.

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horrrrible posture. it’s better since TMR though for sure.

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i know the ones i want next if they don’t get new ones by the time i go back. pink/fushcia plaid.

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bla blah blah blah i am so important and hip and modern tra la luh social media blogging niche market honk honk yadda yadda. ahhahaa.

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i’ve never been so white in so long. i’m going to go alabaster to help stay forever young.

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ham attack.

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now for the fun part. zany posing.

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kiss the queen.

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underkill.

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bathing in the afterglow effects. don’t worry, this will be you too.

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and this.

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but not so much this you might not be cute enough for this.

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someone said i was a puppy that needed to be pet.

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SO PET MEEEEEEEEEEE.

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i was doing gary oldman doing jesus in the professional when he walks through the beaded curtains before they gun that family down. gary oldman, guy. incredible. bound to go say and do nutso things counter on that guy for sure.

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oh right we’re here about nails i should show them ha.

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yeeeeugh.

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just kidding guys everything’s fine and normal and dandy.

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oh backlighting.

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i went on a date with a photographer couple months ago. he snapped at me for being late (genuine time to meet up confusion)(it was only by half an hour) but anyway when he started about photography when i had to ask to pretend to be interested to get out of the being late doghouse immediately i was like oh my god shut uuuuup about photography and cameras. NOW. probably about the same feeling some may get from hearing about bloggers or blogging outside of me. melucas’ blood pressure must hit the roof there’s only so much we can taaaake enough enough. yeah well this bullshit got you vip baby.

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time to go.

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love the font, very harrod’s. see you in knightsbridge.

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i could get used to this. oh wait i already am and have.

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maybe my next brand name will have swarovski in it or hawaiian tropical resort billions of dollars and spanish villa and those guys will email me to collaborate too.

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close your eyes. make a wish.

SIR-MINX-A LOT OUTTIE.

oh check these photos of the Thierry Mugler fashion show in Paris yesterday with Minx Team USA and UK also Minx Canada is on Facebook, Like them so i can go through minx finishing school.

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Dear Raymi;

Hi there.

I’m impressed by how you built so much value around living –initiating contact is something important, and you do it well. I’ve been reading your blog for just over a year, I don’t read blogs just yours. This habit use to strike me as a little toxic, your content at the time made me envious (success balls social compatability burlesque dancing). I got over it. I’m 18, I moved from the west end last year (roncessvalles) to montreal, where I’m trying to start a life (I do art like a hermit in a home ‘studio’ and work in fast food -weekend overnight shifts ughhhh). This is going to sound ridiculous, I know you’re a twenty-something, but I always feared that people, in essence, were built to recede. But you’re doing a good job with everyday consistency and striving. I feel like I’d be able to hold a conversation with you, wish I could come to your events, but the internet isn’t a hipster coffee shop and toronto isn’t in quebec.

Kudos, I like ya.

-Gabrielle

initial response You sound v smart and riddled with potential and only eighteen wow impressive. Gab away gabe. Why did u move to mtl? And how, parents?

but then, 18 year olds exist? why am i boggled by this at all, 18 is the year i graduated high school and fucked off to new york fucking city. vice printed my story about it, i was working for them. hanging with ex strippers, degenerates, rock n rollers thirty year olds and older everywhere i looked i was the youngest and dumbest but i played it pretty cool though you wouldn’t know my age really.

this was the hottest summer, the summer of 2001 in new york city, brooklyn. you can’t say new york city and brooklyn in the same sentence can you? well i do. cos that means something to canadians and especally hipsters haha.

matt good wanted to use this for an album cover some day. this might have been the time he was going squirrely because that is way too flattering for me. anyway nice haircut. ugh. the humidity and growing out my hair just did a number on that mop top. this is when you must invent yourself a personality.

that’s the WTC still standing behind me btw.

that’s me in laura’s orange stripper wig and tight snakeskin stripper dress. this is normal, i was eighteen you see? she danced at pumps. does it still exist? my dad would die if he saw the neighbourhood it was in. i’m a tough chick. touch stupid chick. would i do half the things i did back then today? no chance.

me (back turned bad hair) singing on a rooftop in greenpoint the night they dynamited those water towers. had a massive party. we didn’t last that long though for the explosion but heard it in park slope. my ex is the guy with the plaid pants on bass. shannon my other roommate is the blond. she worked for mtv. amazing chick.

our livingroom the easter (april) prior to my moving here. i took the bus easter weekend to check out the apartment, i was still in high school. scandal! suffice it to say i had zero in common with anybody in my high school and made little attempts to relate. i had friends, i was cool blah bla liked etc etc but i lived in a dream internetland that emo kids today probably dwell in, friends afar. i mean, i fell in love with someone over email and then i moved to his city. it happens.

this is from my archives of that summer

went to lucky cheng’s last nite and sang karaoke with anita cocktail the transvestite. she grabbed my boobs a lot and danced when i sang VOGUE and FERNANDO. she told me she weighed 217 lbs and called me a superstar. i am hungover.

this is me at 17.

williamstown mass., the week following 9/11 when we were finally allowed to leave the city we drove to new hampshire to see his sister, then in on cj in mass then to maine, to stay at the house. we would come to live in this house together, for three months, january to march. i flew back to canada on my birthday telling my dad my next plans of moving to toronto finally. a sparkly bruce lee is on my tshirt i bought at black market. i dressed like a dumpy hobo slob hippie. always in flip flops. i was stopped once by a UK fashion magazine once for a photo i swear i am not lying hahaha.

i look super happy.

and here i look like the kid from the shining. this is when my hair was finally starting to grow.

we had a going away party for me. so many people came. hot guys everywhere and the random assortment of misfits i had gathered during my time in NYC. one girl with massive fake tits and a killer body. i looked very cool, total champ. jamie and i had just missed being friends with one another at this time. that sucks. who knows how the universe (known universe haha) would have panned out had we met back then. oh yeah i am on vicodin in this photo, other shit too. wild times.

ok back to that email i barely scratched the surface i got all nostalgia jones.

brbrbrbbrbrb

then i started looking like this.

during the april visit ha.

in maine. three months before i turned 19.

this is what i was wearing when that uk mag stopped me. same day. bartending a vice boozecan in-store, soho. i’m inebriated here. you can’t see the arch of my back so i look pregsalot. i was definitely rocking baby fat. this photo was in a show of some sort or other i think.

ok back to email sorry sorry.

This is going to sound ridiculous, I know you’re a twenty-something, but I always feared that people, in essence, were built to recede.

you sound like glass half empty girl. doomed from the start. stop it. wrong approach and outlook also a backhanded compliment. you’re old but you keep getting better and more prominent. exactly. it never occurred to me that i might turn into an aged rocker who just won’t let it go, or the dream die. your shelf life in canada is shorter i think and you spend more than half the time at work on it.

you need a degree of arrogance, skill, confidence and the ability to always be right. righter.

eventually i’ll recede, but it will be the good kind of fade, the hippie sort, still there kicking it around in some bizarre swirl of habitat or other typing out nonsense to whoever is still listening.

like willie nelson in half baked, people will come for miles to pay their respects to me in the form of delivering weed and i’ll say shit like those were the times maaaaan and i’ll finally let that one lone chin hair grow in, nice and long and wiry.

it could go that way OR i will recede into psychotic stepford anal-retentive dying on the inside-repressed housewife. my utopian domestic fantasy would be a combination of dharma and greg (my last one was pretty much exactly that haha) meets i dream of jeannie. YOU GOTTA RUB ME THE RIGHT WAY.

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i’ll do anything for you as long as i get to wear this and be stoned the entire time.

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rrrrawr. pink and red? perfect. weird pillbox hat? divine.

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in cartoon jetsons form replete with mc hammer pants, sign me up.

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yuppie and the trophy, works every time!

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this is melodie and i working on adventures or she’s trying to study or do biology stuff and in i come and make it all about me and take over completely, take zero of her advice and leave when it’s her turn to talk. hehehhee. no wonder she tells me off.

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who doesn’t (in their head) live in a pink sultan’s abode within a gaudy magic lamp?

how fitting is this? liz made it. i love her. we’ve been blog buddies for years. she is a magical sparkle insane princess bizarro version of me somewhere in america. she went to burning man and i read her blog obsessively as she prepared for it, go look through her archives. addictive.

oh my her hair.