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when i tweeted this photo from the train along with “Doesn’t matter where I’m going as long as I’m going there.” it received 130 views within seconds. i thought it was a glitch. or the time of day (around eight) or maybe it was because i had been relatively quiet on twitter, or i had said the exact enticing thing to nab people into clicking on my photo, and then the photo itself, and then i thought, who cares? why do we care? why are these social media things so important? kind of revolting a bit. all the racket and fuss and smoke ‘n mirrors going on on the internet to arouse big companies who don’t really know their ass from the elbows about engaging the youth of today but lets hope it keeps rising like the dot com boom where everyone thought they were a millionaire and acted as such for a time until it all went bust.
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me right now. good morning this afternoon. i’ve had insomnia the last two nights.
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but i’m getting skinnier. how many times do i say that in a month? don’t answer.
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that’s what unwashed hair for days turns into, a sculpture.
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passive aggressive love note? yeah that’ll really woo her.
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i basically came out here to take a shower and to visit my nana. which we’re doing today.
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went out to dinner with my poor sick pop last nite in the craziest downpour, we were soaked in the short walk from car to restaurant. cozy inside, we eventually moved tables to be by the fireplace after i asked it to be turned on (for him) then were seated by the loudest weirdest conversation ever. smooth criminal type chat comin’ out the mouth of a salt of the earth type, blue collar, yet, could tell the guy was loaded. fascinating. well, fancy that.
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i feel ruder taking photos in a restaurant i’m not actually reviewing even though i intend to review it anyway it’s just not “official”. no one says anything, they only mildly care but there is always one face in the crowd just dying to make a comment. it’s usually a woman who is starving and unhappy to begin with.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/raymilauren/5184557309/in/photostream/
i’m not flashing, i’m not building a diorama, none of this has anything to do with you so stop staring if it bothers you so much. the same can be said to those who “hate” me and my bloggggggggg. you nosy busybodies with nothing up your own sleeves, this has nothing to do with you, at the end of the day N O T H I N G so whatever excuses you have about me being a trainwreck, doing this doing that, my family, my friends, they’re not your family or friends fyi and if you’re soooo much better than i allegedly am, why don’t you make your own famous blog then?
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oh because i don’t want to, we don’t need to, we are busy at our jobs and with our own lives. ok cool then which brings me back to my original statement, if you’re so busy jocking your own shit why you all up in mine all the time bumbaclot? i am sucking my teeth at you right now. you spend so much time talking about me, i threw you a party and predictably you didn’t have the nards to come so then you talk about it as if you went or knew someone who did? that is amazing-level of pathetic right there. i am measuring you in inches, your chatter, it keeps coming, it doesn’t even matter what you say anymore you just keep saying it because you are obsessed and i guess your lives are lame? you are not fascinating, you are predictable and tiresome, you are the aids of the internet combined with ant infestation. you are the ugly wallflower geek at the party who just can’t figure “it” out. in elementary school you were bullied so now you bully. (it’s not my fault your finger paintings sucked).
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not one pussy hater showed up to my party. they’re trying to piece together a story about it from the scraps i’ve mentioned on my blog and spin their own version. pfft. they’re going on about how basically it was a spectacle, me in that dress and hair and all the food and booze and my stuff. guess what re: spectacle? THAT WAS THE POINT IDIOTS. thank you for proving me right.
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do you know how many dysfunctional families there are on the planet? every single one i don’t care how perfect you think yours is, it isn’t. a lot of work goes into making a family appear to be perfect, wasted effort really as no one’s happy but anyway i’m just a genius who saw excellence in my own and decided you know what, these people are interesting so i’m going to homage them in blog form. i’m going to share. do i get a thank you for it? no i get catty remarks and abuse. way to go canada you never fail to snub your peers. a popular slag is how i am going to turn into my mother and “ouch babe” um, can you show me a picture of your mother then? you’re the one so above and beyond obsessed by all this, if you’re gonna throw rocks like that you must have some sort of means of backing it up. i’m sure your mother isn’t a busted hag at all, i bet she kept it together like my mother has, i bet she works out, doesn’t smoke, puts an ass ton of lotions and beautiful pots of potions all over herself every fucking day. do you know how many of my raymi man fan club told me how hot my mother is? and i’m headed that way? am i supposed to be sad about that? at what point in all of this are my feelings supposed to be stung and why is it your mission to sting them? you also claim that the overall shock of the evening was how haggard i myself looked (seriously this is coming from one loser who was not there, knows nobody in my crew whatsoever and also none of them would even say that so this desperation to make me look bad is nothing but just that, desperation) um did you see how many photos i posted of the night? how can there be an overwhelming amount of coverage and photographic evidence of my looking like a disney princess yet somehow what i REALLY looked like was haggard?
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omg i look so old i better retire soon! and this is me at the end of the night when you’re supposed to be a wreck, this is me close to 3 in the morning after being up all day, all month no sleep pure stress so you can get fucked is what you can do little troll.
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not old. fuck it i’m not letting you peons get inside my head anymore about my age.
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black bean soup. very filling. bit bland but interesting taste. interesting in the vein of now why does this taste like this? i guess i’ll keep eating it to find out but then you never really find out you’re just kind of confused and unsatisfied.
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steak frites. dad didn’t have much of an appetite so we took it to go and i canceled plans with tim, just took’er easy. i didn’t come out here to party anyway.
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poorly executed. so much wasabi waste AND sriracha? why? wrong. take this off the menu i can only imagine what the 3 other sushi dishes look like. impossible to eat with chop sticks, with my hands too, the rice all fell apart. i didn’t complain. only to you lucky ducks.
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wearing two sweaters. so weird when it rains in this kind of cold. close to snow. my aunt calls it no no november. it’s a british saying my dad said. cute. bad weather, bad everything. it’s both my parent’s birth month too.
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the moral of the story is, someone will always hate you, no matter how right you are, you’re wrong, and ugly.
HAPPY WEDNESDAY!
if you can’t beat ‘em, blog ‘em.







