i’ve been a big fat jerk. i’ve been avoiding everyone. all three friends that i have. i’ve lost a whole day and i’ve lost weight. what happens when un-normal things become the norm? sure nudity and drugs and booze ’round the clock, throw in a cousin or two and maybe a car accident. i feel like a hot little 83 year old lady, well, rather i have the energy of an 83 year old lady. i have pictures galore but am in between being extremely unproductive and assbackwards lazy so gimme a day or two. continue reading raymi and laura and anti and jamie. yes yes. no.
ps those who make donations wil receive special exclusive raymi photos. booyah!
oh and i was added to this poll-thing a week ago or something but i was way too pissed off to mention or link it but i’m not angry anymore and i realise being voted worst means being the best. i forget but i made a comment and it seemed to make sense in the comment section here. and here is weis dude’s blog thing.
i guess i should explain myself. or this blog. the phenomena of it all. i receive roughly 400-500 hits a day. what’s that a month? 12k-13k, whatever i hate math. i never really paid any attention to other blogs, i never linked people and if i did i did ’cause they told me to or they linked me. there’s this big-ass blogging community and everyone hates everyone else and copies everyone else and it’s all very homosexual and mainstream now. i’ve had this clunky thing for over three years and now all the famous people have blogs. i’m not complaining, just telling you my observations. i’m a pioneer of blaaaaagging. i post at GTA bloggers and i never show up to their gatherings in toronto because i am:
a) too cool
b) ignorant
c) extremely high class
d) something
e) forlorn
f) am actually a 48 year old man with angina
and so on…
the truth is yes, i do want to be famous, i do want to walk down runways with stilettos and a big high ponytail and heroin eyes and i want to say clever things to reporters about toothpicks and olives and all that fancy fake important stuff and i plan to get all this in the most lazy way possible. so yes, this blog, my vehicle to importantsville. my pictures, my videos, my book, karaoke, my vaaagina too. you in your way, me in mine. i’m not closing doors and pigeon-holing myself. i’m not a good writer for a naked girl or a pretty good singer for a writer. i do it all.
here’s me with my one true blackest of black friends. tyranny. he’s a mouthpiece that’s fo’sho. he be my pill poppin’ buddy. he’s more white trash than i. and no we don’t do it.
the nice special people who make donations to me please gimme yer email address so i can send you thank you mails. but if you’d rather be annonymous i understand. i love you.
i feel like i’ve lost touch with civilization. the world outside the drapes is right-mean. i only understand movies i’ve seen no less than eight years ago. there are minimal rules and structure in my life. no cigarettes before 7pm unless i’m pulling an all-nighter which means 7pm equals the beginning of the end and people should be eating breakfast. don’t work more than two days in a row for more than three hours at a time. make sure the cat does not eat the weed. always remember to send panic-stricken, meaningless text messages to all acquaintances and friends once you recognize it is one in the afternoon and people are on their lunchbreaks, wearing ties, sitting at office desks and you’re trying to pay attention to 4 minutes of B A R A K A without bleeding from the veins in your eyeballs. coming to the conclusion that finite math, trigonometry, calculus and algebrae (brae!?) will only bring copious amounts of stress into my life therefore spending as little time as conceivably possible, thinking of such things is probably a great idea and might just be suitable for first place on my list of rules to keep.
wow that last sentence tired me out.
someone please tell me what to do/where to go for New year’s Eve.
PS – thanks GR for the donation. now i can buy rainbow striped socks and a nickel bag. yes!
i want to buy a house so u have to give me money. i have had this blogthing for over 3 years now and i have not ever asked you of anything so now i am asking for it so gimme it please. meow meow. well really its for my minxraymi store but that wont be up for another week or two but in the meantime you can pay for my lunches. i love you.
yah i’ve been pretty impressed with the amount of things i’ve somewhat, um, been accomplishing despite the tiny sum of sleep hours pulling in. please disregard all errors of syntax and uhhh, run-on sentences.
that is all.
oh jesus that was pretty pathetic.
let me try again.
thank you for all the positive support and/or praise and patience with my not returning phonecalls, emails and ignorant comebacks. the lightbulb in my kitchen exploded and i found out when i stepped in to grab a cd and a hat and a copy of my book and then i left. i am avoiding my own space. it feels like i am either gaining or losing days and my words no longer make any sense and i sometimes find myself growing tired of my own voice but then i realise i haven’t been talking for very long.
i know that i am a big fan of self-medicating, it seems.
You know what? people hate me. they do. they fucking hate me and i hate them right back. well, sometimes i’ll pussyfoot around by saying, “yah well, they aren’t giving me the benefit of the doubt, they have a suburban mindset, they watch too much wrestling…” no. i hate them. i’m pretty fucking tired of trying to justify my cause to everyone so i’ve decided to stop. if you’re too stupid to see the irony in the things i write about along with the pictures i post then just get lost. i’m not trying to manipulate you and i don’t expect to rise to stardom by having pervs pull their dinks to my photos. yes i am rude. yes i am offensive. yes i will insult you within three minutes having met you and your boring friends, but i won’t do it purposely. well maybe sometimes. i’m not a wacky 19 year old who wears a big ironic tie over my tank top and big skate shoes and i don’t say big controversial things to get a rise out of you.
i just say what i think, when i think it, all the time. and i won’t lie to you.
i don’t care about your shoes or your friend’s band and i probably don’t read your website anymore. i don’t see the importance of reading the newspaper or watching the news or paying attention to politics. i will not commit myself to seeking out independent music groups and paying attention to trends. if i wear something that might appear to be “trendy” i’ve most likely been wearing it for awhile or it was a gift.
i make racial slurs, i take my clothes off and i’ll pull faces at you behind your back if you’re a cunt to me.
i am financially independent and have been since i was fifteen. this means, i pay for my own bills and rent and food and cabs and everything. i don’t even have a fucking credit card. when something gets stolen i replace it. no matter how expensive.
and i do not blame my actions on depression. ever. i’ve only ever admitted to the possibility of being a “depressed person” as of one year ago and it feels weird. so ridiculously weird that to this day i make up excuses for myself and my actions, anything but oh yah, maybe i did that ’cause i’m hypo-manic and i don’t care anymore.
i was ashamed of being sad.
i was ashamed of being paralyzed on my bedroom floor listening, to NIRVANA tapes for three years.
i didn’t travel around the world just to come back to this city and be faced with high school dramas.
i graduated a year ahead of everyone else to get away from everyone else. i was a valedictorian, i studied dance for ten years, i was a cheerleader, i got 30 year olds to take me seriously, i studied journalism at both Oxford and Imperial College in London at the age of seventeen, i was the sole office support, assistant to the editor and manager of the circulation’s department of a very well-known women’s publication for 7 months also at the age of seventeen and then i said fuck you to everyone and flew to cunty New York City to bartend and kind of intern for a soon-to-be selling out magazine and then i lived in buttfuck New England and had a radio show and then after realising i am crazily depressed i flew back to the ‘burbs, slaved for two months and saved money admist a pretty nasty (and still going on) separation between my parents and moved myself to Toronto in-where i have convinced, with my smartyness of course, a moneybags to help fund my retardo projects all the while battling this stumbling block of what you call “depression.” i have one-hundred pages of a book i keep staring at and wonder, “will people really like this?” and everyday i get closer and closer to being twenty years old and i think if this isn’t published by the time i am twenty, no one will care.
i have earned my seat at the fucking table. what have you ever done?
i really don’t care for this little scene of followers. i learned all about that in grade 6. people pay too close attention to gossip in these parts. have you ever met me? have you ever heard me speak?
no.
christmas is gay. but thanks anyway.
ps – to those snickering at my recent drugging incident, it’s not a matter to be taken so lightly, despite my own indifference. yes, it’s pretty fitting that some little hussy who boasts of being naked a lot and even posts saucy pictures of such nekkedness, have her drink tainted and become so looped that she may possbily be taken advantage of. i’ll have you know, i was in a kitchen and i was with people i did not know and for whom did not know me and/or anything to do with being raymitheminx and a big whore. i was wearing dirtbaggy, regular clothes and i was not drunk and i was not in any way, “sexy” so therefore, i was not “asking for it.”
Hey, i was kind of excited that we decided to not do coke ’til 5 in the morning but you know, it’s now a quarter to howling hour and here i am. up. but not doing coke. only did a tiny tiny bit. i am very annoyed at the hospital for fucking up my drug screening and telling me to come back and pee in a cup again but you know, i think the drug is out of my system for good now so there is no point. i will have to take the law into my own hands. the hospital woman was a cunty whore and in fact, they were all very unhelpful to my cause seeing as i was not bleeding from my ears. i could hear people crying and crapping their guts out and all of them were vomitting hysterically. i was passing notes under the door to my friends in the waiting area and i felt like i was going to be arrested or sent to detention by the mean hospital woman. she kept blowing up and saying, “now LISTEN TO ME CAN I TALK CAN I TALK!??!” and i was not even saying more than three words and then i said, “Yah well i think i’m being pretty calm about this whole thing despite circumstances” and she just looked at me and then this other nurse was all nice and helpful and tended to me immediately and i felt like biting my fucking thumb to that hospital woman but i didn’t because i am a mature young lady. i am.
wow i am listening to NIRVANA’sTourette’s and it makes me want to take a big wicker chair that you find in community centres and smash it into a window.
