If there’s a Christmas tree beneath the tv it makes the movie seem like a Christmas flick seriously. Too bad Paddock always smells like hot cleaning agents and last night’s party. Whoops.
There’s a Starbucks and a back entrance to Union, nice find. View of Hotel Le Germain. Where I have stayed.
And I went home with this. Mom had chicken strips. Boring.
What’s up Rocky.
Have fun in Texas Bech.
See you before you go go bro ho.
Dad, get this if you haven’t already read it. Also rent Taking Woodstock. Merry Christmas for the idea.
Damn. I had a wonderful selection of hot sauces at my disposal for my omelette. Components.
Thai Red curry. No rice. Limiting carb intake.
Oh Christ then I found these.
Apple caramel bottom right corner. Dope. We rock paper scissored for first draw. I won, took the best ones. #selfishjerkface #yolo hahahuh.
Mom’s pics way better (you’ll see those) but we hightailed it to Ancaster Old Mill for Brunch. It was a magical time.
Bacon, eggs benedict, crabs legs, salmon, chicken. I threw some vegetables on top so as not to look like a total fat fuck. My second plate looked like that Perogies. It’s all the mouth-watering figure shattering crap you’re like okay whatever this is the last buffet I am ever going to may as well tuck in. I didn’t have bacon seconds aren’t you proud of me? Didn’t eat the english muffin either yeah yeah whatever.
Hailey found oysters. She barfed the next day she ate so damn much. She is so our kin. Pigs. (That’s my old shirt).
The only dessert I had. I had to leave room for the 4 mimosas/Kir Royales I drank bro ahaha. I had a two hour sleep afterward.
This guy was amazed by me.
Magical!
Whoops how’d that get in there. Bah-blam!
No that is bah blam. I am turning more and more in to zoey deschanel.
This, I will have to learn how to pose in.
This lost to this.
Black is better.
Nice does it come in bigger?
Merry Christmas to y’all and to y’all a good zzz. BYE!
Yes I was just taking a ton of stupid pictures of myself, it’s because I love you but I love me more. Lets do it!
My mom gave me one of my presents early this year, it’s this red lipstick that the desk lamp has blown out to pink. No bigz y’all can still tell I have wicked lips so who cares what colour they are. I just got a brainstorm to wear my glitzy lips metallic decal lipwear when I bartend NYE yay smart attack but anyway someone made a mouth comment, err, request so then I got conceited and I narrowed it down to these winners.
Give me more t-shirts and I’ll take pics with your brand jacked all up over the place.
I don’t really pay attention to much in life thanks to the internet I can half get a glean, throw it through the Raymi Neighbourino Wilson translator filter and go about my biz but thanks to the year 2012 being the worst year to ever happen to me I kind of wouldn’t at all mind if we all just fucking exploded tomorrow, you know? I know it’s not at all going to happen but the freedom of burning every bridge in sight to delight that curious fantasy free feeling within us all is kind of, well, down right perverted. *licks teeth* D. calls it REIGNING IN THE BEAST. That “dark passenger” within. Clem told me we have it, some guy on Dexter says he has a dark passenger. Clem says I have several. D. says he could have been several times married but you know, yeah me too, but thanks “to the beast” we continue the lone wolf on an eternal journey route instead.
I know a lot of people around me have had it bad this year and the others who don’t, are never really happy very much anyway so this one’s for them too! Raise it up. I am drinking vodka vanilla coffee right meow can you tell?
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Pinnacle also sent Pottery Barn martini glasses how adorbz.
I am obsessed with this video and song. Not in just that the chick keeps going, “Why can’t I keep you?” but the inappropriate relationship betwixt her and that little man. The boy. And she asks him, “tell me what’s the matter little man” so cuuuute, so obsessive. She stalks him, it’s crazy! The song and the video tell it together I love it. To The hip fucking ghetto itself, it reminds me of some of the bush of Aruba. I did some crazy shit in Aruba. I went to dangerous places and put myself in stupid situations and made it out alive. Reigning in the beast. Is because. I went to a bar out in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. You can smoke indoors there, it is disgusting. And hot, sweaty, stifling. Everyone was dancing in there it was crammed to the walls. I was the only white girl. It was amazing I was scared but solid, respected. Then I went to a house. These are stories for sale, in a book not a blog.
I also enjoy dancehall and the grimey performances it inspires and I know I can move my body in a kind of rhythm that is the best absolute pairing with it. I’ll stop typing it and start doing it later on tonight.
It is infuriating being a blogger sometimes. I do a lot of interesting shit but I cannot blog it. Storytelling is an obsessive compulsion of mine. Social media has outright destroyed it. From waning attention spans to associations, but ultimately above all else it’s dudes. It’s always dudes. They are always watching you. Making assumptions. Waiting abating studying and the second you move on, hating.
I invented Raymi the Minx to be an eternal minx I never thought it would ruin my life. Or people would believe it. Heck I stamped MINX on my own fucking arm. I marked myself. HA ha. But a piece of me a biiiiiig ass piece thoroughly digs it so, what can you do. You gotta be you. And when it all goes to shit you take a deep breath until it is over. Because it gets better eventually and it always does.
But sometimes I like being depressed too. Isn’t that wrong? I like falling through the cracks, being a curator of sadness. Being your loser hero. I can’t even tell you half the funny and ridiculous things I’ve done since September because they’re only funny to me and everybody reads this, my mother, father, whatever you know “It’s art” if I am supposed to be this Kerouac-continued extension savant why don’t I shut up and tell it. IF you look back in the archives of my blog this is how I used to do it anyway, hide and expose, behind my laptop write 3 times daily. Destroy relationships cause rifts between couples whom were both obsessed with me, one or the other. I’d provoke and flame war. I had balls. Nerve. Now? Holy shit! Amazed.
This is the part where I beat my chest in the corner of the ring and get myself psyched up about life again even though I want to die.
DJ BLANKET
We saw the kid for the first time since she moved out there she said my blog has been pretty vague lately like so fucking vague.
Oh, is it?
That was supposed to be my vague blog post ending but I am still feeling chatty. SO hi again.
Because I am a comedian, self-professed (BUT I did do standup one night) I make up little witty jokes and quips to myself all day long. It is exhausting. Anyway one thing you can text your ex for Christmas is Merry Christmas it’s over I know but Merry Christmas anyway. I wanted to tweet that instead it would have been too cryptic but I Should have done it anyway.
MERRY CHRISTMAS IT’S OVER.
I can see it on a tumblr t-shirt now.
I didn’t tweet it because I didn’t want people to think I meant it about the apocalypse. I realize my Larry David-mind has held me back in life LOTS. The over-thinking process. See right there that statement rules and since I’ve been on a bender since September tweeting thoughts and statements one status update at a time in lieu of blogging the entire pile of shit together I feel like this blog has been collecting way too many moths as a result. This long winded classic Craymi blog post reads as one long inner-sanctum long time email correspondence because why not just address all of you at once. All of the good guys. Ho ho ho.
This is me shaking up the snow globe. Okay fuck I have to at least tweet that one cos it’s 1:30 and bloggers need to hit publish once in the day at least and we all know I’ve been doing less than that so a cough on twitter is a tap on the shoulder to your bros.
But yes, snow globe. Life. That. Do it. You gotta do it sometimes. Jerry Maguire mission statement no sleep trainwreck crash. Fuck what a guy that is forget me, if Tom Cruise isn’t the man of the year if not the entire f-ing decade then we are all blind assholes. Talk about someone who ruh-eally fucked it up large despite laughing all the way to the bank cos you’re not a failure if you’re rich BUT if your rep is ruined that kinda licks. It started well before the in love with Katie Holmes dancing on the Oprah couch incident as far as I’m concerned but we just didn’t notice because we thought it was just good acting. My mom pointed out that Tom Cruise has one wicked flip out in each of his films. #fact. Jerry Maguire? Great indication thereof.
I want to start writing thought pieces again. I want to spill my diarrhea thoughts again because lots more people checked in then so I’m going to try that again and see if it sticks and then hopefully I will finish my book parallel to that. I need to read and write more. That is my resolution. A woman we hooped with at Brass Vixens last weekend said her resolution was to be a BETTER hooper and some other better things and I liked that approach.
I want to be better instead of I want to stop doing as an NYE resolution. Positive statements. Because we know we won’t change, not right now anyway, we can only hope to aspire to be better at something we are already doing. I am already doing some things that I am pretty good at and people love me and just accept my snooze button of life pressing at present and I am in too much pain to stop some of the things I’m doing so I can at least proffer to get better at a new skill instead of abandoning something that is helping me get through my fucking life right now. Whether it be drinking or over-eating, complaining, this is only me for right now not forever. I just have zero fucking privacy and I want to be alone live alone, stop wandering, settle, somewhere, have people off my back. Stop hearing negativity outright above all else. I want to be inspired again I want to see other people get better too and do better. Save themselves. That is what I want. You know who you are.
Holy fuck if blogs aren’t for ranting then wtf are they for? Mommies? I think so. Beginning to. I’m going to annex the medium back. Watch.
I’m in to this video a lot. It is long. Two songs for the price of one. WhoMAdeWho are geniuses, their videos, another I Was obsessed with when I moved to Borington in 2009 kept me on my game. Steered me. Artists who express sentiments on to the world in form of song and film, tickle me. Just watch it.
Busted going through my tumblr. I use it as a dj platform -blanket dj. Archive way is the best way to micro-manage the assault you get and hover over the play triangles of the images, those guys are youtube raymi song repeat classics. I got your back.
Okay listen idiots I’ma ’bout to call bullshit on a whole lotta you. First’s off lets talk about a little thing called reality and within this realm the one that we all exist, future forecasts of death or otherwise are non-existent. I’m sorry but you just can’t see through time. I’ve tried. Never underestimate hot sauce. So IF, major if, a planet Nibiru is actually at present hurtling itself toward us at speeds so technically and measurably sound to predict its blasting in to earth then how le f did these Mayans pinpoint its overall impacting destruction to one specific day? I’ll tell you. IMPOSSIBLE. They can’t. Haven’t. We’re just not that lucky to have the world end or change. Nothing changes. Ever. It doesn’t. There is just no fucking way a meteorite is going to kill me no matter how hard I wish. By this logic, fear not Little Raymis the party continues December 22.
Mayans are said to be “super advanced” and possess technological advanced methods or capabilities necessary to foresee such End Times sh–. PUH-LEASE. Did you get a notification alert via abacus, bro?
I just exhausted myself by that pseudo-rant and actually deleted multiple paragraphs of it haha. Seeing as we can’t throw our papers in the air fuck this shit it’s Friday styles, on with tha show. NO Doomsday for you! (Soup Nazi voice).
I’ve been in town since Thursday. It feels like yesterday. It’s neat the blanket brain blur one can vacation in if one is so inclined, or lucky to be able to.
I bought a new dress. If it’s the end of the world, buy a new dress. Prescilla Dressly.
Same picture as the lead-in but hipstamatic. I’m a purist, original, original gangster, before all these filters you know and I don’t at all photoshop or edit. I like it raw. I can’t tell what is better though, what people prefer. It looks good both ways. But one way is hiding.
This is raw, it is honest and it looks great. It’s “so” Raymi. Which I feel people like, admire, appreciate. Always have always will. When people make fun of foodie instagram shots I just roll my eyes and close my ears from listening because I know I’m right. I am not boring, my life isn’t, my food isn’t. My perspective is fresh. If you have to filter a photo to make it interesting that is sad. Tell the story the first damn time you take the shot. Don’t generalize like that. The more established and it-girl the person the crappier their photos can be. They are what they photograph. What they photograph is interesting. Therefore.
Oh Shannon ILU.
I think this was a music video. It was, lame. I bet the edit will rule comparatively to IRL. Our cabbie while I took this shot was an absolute hoot I’ll tell you.
Julesy Joolzy Jules, makes them boys drools. We love her so. Welcome back kiddo.
I must have been on tv again last night. Or, I must have done the right thing, person, or place. I just gotta vibe like more people be creepin’ they call it stats. Numbers don’t lie. But actually I know exactly why and it’s kind of embarrassing to figure it out after the fact but still amusing all the same and by golly I do enjoy watchin’ them numbers climb. Blogging is a sickness worse than junk I’d say.
There is a saying or a quote, I can’t verbatim it because I can’t remember it exactly and it is buried on a sticker stuck to my longboard but in any event it’s basically like the shortest line to success is a line of blow with the right person? Yeah. I think a line of blow with any person is the wrong person because that stuff is poison BUT there is merit to the meaning.
Just hanging out and exchanging ideas with someone, anyone, is helpful. I realize I have been very isolated lately and I totally lost who I was and that shit stops now. I am a pent-up angry f–ing Raymiac. Seriously. I have wasted almost half of my life caring what other people think of me. I care what you guys think ha! Can you actually believe it? Waste. of. time. No offense. Like if I want to make an amusing dark and exciting remark about blow, goddammit I will. it doesn’t mean I do it I shouldn’t care if it makes it look like I do, it’s just commentary.
Other than that I have felt like a specimen for/of ridicule for a very long time even though I know in my soul I’m legit I still have a nagging but what are they going to think or say deer tick bite feeling thanks to the stupid pukes what make up the majority of the internet.
