the bender began last week, the exact moment was when casie declared she was on one til new years. in the back of my head i was thinking uh oh, now she’s done it. maybe my new year’s resolution will be giving up drinking. profusely.
need to stock burlington massive with bottles of hot sauce, jerk, mados, everything. i have so many needs, so many cosmic needs to fulfill and satiate there is only so much weed you can smoke or wine you can drink, sometimes you just gotta see through time.
i’m in that resigned state presently, where i don’t care, where i care too much, and where i have given up caring, or trying to change things. or want things. expect things. anymore. what can i do more than i am already doing? i don’t know.
I wandered into your blog last week, via your flickr account, via “the
known universe”. Amazing discovery! NOBODY posts 50,000 photos to a
flickr account (20,000, maybe, but not 50,000!). You have invented a
new photographic art form. It is better than Yousuf Karsh or Ansel Adams.
It will take a long time to finish looking at all 50,000 photos, but I’m
sure I’ll be able to do it by the end of next year. Then I can start on
the older blog entries.
Since you now seem like an old friend, I want to wish you a Merry
Christmas and a Happy New Year. I am standing by to see what happens to
you in the next couple of hours.
the lemon and the salt was unnecessary. i drink my tequila like a true mexican, according to an artist i saw once. how does a mexican do a shot of tequila? then she threw the lemon onto the floor with gusto and pounded the shot. i mistook this glass of milagro, wait, not milagro it’s the orange bottle sister to the blue one whatever that is, but anyway after all the hot sauce i was putting back i mistook this glass for my little tumbler of water. whoops. made no difference i lost all sense of taste by that point.
this isn’t a review so i’m not contractually bound to tell you what the hell this is i will tell you though that it came out on fire and i asked if we ate the fire because i am a smart person like that.
followed by a snoozer replete with blinking. obviously i am scoping out my skinny progress. saving the shirt raised abs-revealing ones for my reference library.
tickle trunk room party. where it always ends up and why my room is constantly trashed. they said they’d help me this time. i wonder what shape my room will be in when i get home to it in a couple hours. a trashed bedroom museum that’s colder than siberia. lucas put my heater on!
stayed up pretty late and then i packed for the burbs and here i am now ready to go back again then off again to montreal for new years eve. one day i will look back at this life and be amazed by how much i did in a year. late january will be a year of me living in adventurehouse.
i am not looking forward to getting up off my ass to collect all my stuff and pack it up for the drive home but i have an afternoon late lunch bohemian date and then an f-ton of catching up to do.
I was going through my tickle trunk of rock memorabilia, when what do I find but you in one of my autograph books. It was at the Travis concert, sometime in 2000, during the dreary wait to get in. You stole Fran Healy’s cigarette butt and gave it to me, and I never forgot the gesture. That butt is encased in an M&M Minis tube within another tickle trunk.
Anyway, if your youth interests you, I’ve scanned the page for you. Sorry about the size, I haven’t been properly acquainted since I updated my OS.
Kind regards,
Lesia
Actually he gave me a cigarette (a silk cut) I smoked it and saved the butt for you. Awesome memory keepsake! Wow just opened the attachment! Holy crap what year was this? (i think i was in grade ten). CRINGE. this is a quote i stole from prozac nation, likely. i’ve met all of travis again since then and told them this story backstage. have photos too, in blog archives.
LAST DAY TO VOTE please keep doing that. fyi the award i covet most is the lifetime achievement, it’s not vote-based though. that one’s decided by a panel of judges. i still want this one too. thank you. now continue reading your favourite blog that never sleeps. hi!
christmas holidaze vortex. cancelled training session today. too bagged to push myself back in to it just yet, wanna stretch out the lazy sloth as much as i can and haven’t spent enough down alone time i feel. i’ll go back to the city tomorrow. after this i’m hitting the exercise bike downstairs then the tub then the port. thanks for forgetting that here melucas. it’s been a whirlwind holiday and i’m loving every bit of it. this year’s theme is taking in orphans, why not. we’re all misfits. dad just did a wine run. i told him bring me back something really really nice and expensive and full. i’ll keep you posted on how that turned out.
my brother took a funny picture of my dad and i laughed so hard i cried. he takes photos like that of my mom too, from below, as we’re talking or making angry face. i can’t breathe it makes me laugh so much.
amazing ratatouille exactly like the movie. they printed the recipe in the paper. my aunt is clever. the stuffing was super good too. light. i have lost weight this christmas.
my aunt pointed out that my shirt was actually leopard print. i’m so blind. there is no leopard with a green coat, which threw me off into thinking it was army camo. love the combo even more now.
BEFORE PROCEEDING FURTHER PLEASE VOTE FOR ME THANK YOU haters are voting against me for this chick who, i’m sorry, is a terrible lazy blogger who has no right to go toe-to-toe with me. doesn’t rank on alexa. hasn’t updated her blog ONCE since the contest began. pfft better blogger? yeah i know it’s people’s choice, whatever. if she wins it proves my haters outnumber her actual readers. what her blog stats are from the beginning of her blog is only a minor fraction of hits that i get in ONE DAY. when this began her blog statcounter read just over 1000. 1000? cumulative hits? i get double quadruple that in a day. how is it that you a-holes aren’t voting for me then?
i have this other life i don’t wildly share with the internet. it’s not a consistent other life but it is still tangibly there and i let worlds collide last nite. adventurehouse, i am their new addition. we made aventurehouse together. in reality television world, big brother to be exact, they said people have short memories in reality shows, who dogs whom, backstabs. adventurehouse knows me only from day one of moving in. you don’t realize or see the baggage ever until you are physically plunked in to it that i actually had an entire life, half a decade of a world prior to my parkdale mansion roommate date machine world.
they’re very protective of me and used to the revolving door turnstile of dates so they don’t know who, like weed, is kind or not. actually a friend. so they give me advice i didn’t ask for or protection that’s not required, i love it, it’s great. it was just funny to let them see me operate on my own bubble world turf. i wanted them to experience suburban raymi world lifestyles.
they don’t even know the amount of gossip and drama that’s going to surmount in me blogging these harmless christmas cheer good time loving photos. this post is a work in progress so keep refreshing for more. we’re drinking port and having pizza at my dad’s now me and lucas, mel and my pa are watching tv down by the fire. happy boxing day.
melodie and i have the craziest bond. it’s like, she and lucas would kill for me, or we would kill each other, but we would much rather kill others. once in awhile we have to put each other in check. but then i just disappear for a bit and we reconvene and it’s love and honour all over again. she likes when i lip her cos she’s supreme alpha. when i get a good zing in i follow it up with another barb and we collapse in laughter. friendships are work. female friendships most of all. what i love about us is we deal with our problems as they arise and don’t build up resentment too much. it’s like yeah i’m pissed and here’s why and the other is oh really? well fuck you now here’s why! done and done. we keep it punk. on the level.
well there’s no boyfriend under the tree so i guess santa kinda blew it. it’s ok, i’ve broken a couple of hearts this past week so everything’s right in the world.
the holiday music playing throughout the house right now makes me feel like i’m in a shopping mall. i’m still at the dining room table waiting for this uber festive video of me singing enter sandman at wrong bar during the fubar party OMG DAD STOP TINKLING CUTLERY I AM GOING TO SET YOU ON FIREEEEE. haha he just said pretend i’m at boom in the kitchen or something and get over it.
papa goes to visit my nana every night at the hospital. they are adorable. he plays snooker all he wants with his boys, enjoys his wine, living the bachelor dream, no nagging or bitching but still every night he goes to the hospital to send her to bed. precious.
my bow contribution. i am so creative. nana says auntie winnie (her sister) reads my blog everyday and thinks i am very creative and talented and a great writer. it’s not until you hear it from someone else do you realize it’s true so now nana thinks i am very successful. FINALLY.
mom is sweating my boots so bad i was this close to giving in. she will not shut up about it. she called costa blanca at oakville place. newp. i only bought them on a desperate halloween whim for my tracey cougar outfit. i can’t have anything nice that i like without her biting my style or demanding it. we’re like turning into the same person and i don’t even care i’ve already made peace with the fact that i am dying alone.
you should have seen me in the mall. i got all my shopping done in an hour and a half. chocolates for nana. mom said she’s chowing down on christmas chocolates like crazy and losing weight cos she hates the diet hospital food.
the hypodermic needle disposal container really amps up the festive what is this family portrait. hospital christmas fuck yeah! letting mom keep my headband.
family’s pride and joy my niece. mom tried to get in my head about that dress and hailey now being too cool for it. she’s in that cool stage you have to tread carefully. tons of attitude and lip and eye rolling. my brother and i dosed it out (and still do) copiously so can’t really be surprised. it stops us in our tracks a bit though. i can at least be rest assured that she’s not my daughter so i just sit back and enjoy the ‘tude in all its splendid glory all the while dressing her up exactly like me. she says she copies me but doesn’t mean to, it just happens, said it wicked defensively too. yep, totally my relation.
nana is the orig no.01 diva in our family. she’s little but man, so feisty. mom said she has a good arm on her too, when she and mike and kim would lip off and beat it down the hall one of nana’s heels would make contact before they could race up the stairs to safety hahaha FAMILY SECRETS BLOG EDITION BEGINS. she asked if my tattoos come off and i snapped NO NANA! she asked me that when i first got blythe done. oh what about your wedding then? over her shoulder as i was hugging her i mouthed to my mom i doubt you’ll make it til then. oh relax. maybe i should just marry the next retard just for my nana’s sake. i bet she’d like that. she wants me to be with an older man. i told her i’m done with older. spent my entire life turning myself into a trophy for some old bastard and for what? one day i woke up twenty-seven like what the hell happened?
merry christmas my internet friends. i like watching christmas happen on the internet (twitter) it’s funny, everyone’s wasted by the time i get out of bed and avoiding their families. twitter is overcapacity. KEEP VOTING PLEEEEEASE my mom’s obsession with it is making me obsessed too it’s like trying to win canadian tired money or something, so unimportant yet important!
everyone was mad at us for taking so long getting ready and coming over. it’s not my fault you guys started drinking so early. pace yourselves next time or nap that shit off. mom kept us up all night long talking my head off in bed. don’t get crazy moms stoned if you plan on going to bed early, good grief.
dad set aside two wrapping paper tubes i am going to whip my brother in the head the second he gets here cannot WAIT. check my nana’s signature nana lips. FUTURE.
doesn’t my brother look hot with his beard? he looks more brian austin greeny that way. he said i was “trying to do pretty face” while i was posing for a photo. dickhead.
i am turning into a wax-like statue. i’m getting more fit, you can tell in the face even though in some photos i look like a fucking cow (t-shirt arm cut off and big stupid white dress is to blame) i assure you i have a chiseled mid-section and my hip bones are coming back and i’m getting brad pitt pelvis now i just have to set it all off with a tan and bingo bango back in business.
my hair is retarded. nana loved it. said i looked like a movie star. i confused every single person we passed in the hospital and grinned at every doctor eyeballing me. ho ho ho.
like him for example. saw him before he saw me and said to nana now this guy’s in for a treat. flashed my big toothy whites and gwen stefani red lipstick as we wheeled on by. nana loved it she’s the queen sheeba. at 80(ish, younger but we round it up) she still dyes her hair, refuses to give up the glam. so this means i have 60 more years of makeup and hair oh fuck that’s a lot of money.
little pixie. that size is meant for an 8-9 yr old mom was like no get her 12. no man she’s skinny. fat kids get fat sizes i KNOW i am right here. i should be a professional personal shopper.
gave hailey this headband. she is so spoiled. i’m giving her my phone when i’m done with it too. hmm what did i have at twelve? zits, depression, greasy hair, foul attitude, NO COMPUTER. i actually used a typewriter in grade 7 for my projects and i typed on thick green stock and if i got one typo i was such a perfectionist i’d retype it all over again i didn’t care for the typewriting erase function it was too stampy. i watched casino from the dining room while typing up my forbidden city book report. TWICE. that movie is long. by like 1am i looked like courtney love.
for all the loners on this day, thinking of you. don’t worry, there’s always vices to turn to. my aunt is on the way with the turkey. dad’s on beer one. stay tuned for live christmas blog updates. i think i might assault the exercise bike a bit before getting dressed. actually no i won’t feeling lazy. dad’s on beer two. i’m going to brush my teeth i’m still in pajamas and alice cooper mascara.
LOVE YOU ALL!
+++
is my pretending to care about christmas showing?
Rat In A Cage
to me
show details 2:20 PM (3 minutes ago)
Your title cracked me up so I thought I’d send you this. Merry
Christmas & enjoy that Boxing Day thing, too.
had the special in-house made hot sauce at fat cat and was a bit too big for my briches about how much heat i could stand. i coulda gone without the milk, really it was brought out for melodie. you just don’t see enough people drinking milk in bars these days. do they serve it at the clockwork orange bar? is that place any good? when i stopped seeing the red flag in that hood i stopped walking by korova milk bar so i forgot about it.
starter. i love onions done up this way. butter and onions when cooking are deadly, the smell is so compelling and inviting, intoxicating. top a cheese and cracker with browned onions and die of pleasure. all your skid friend’s minds will be blown and it’s super easy. there’s also a bunch of mushrooms atop this, i forget which kind. some loser left me a comment on my cafe du lac post only once i was in the star flipping out about my AUDACITY of reviewing food, restaurants, if i don’t know what i’m talking about cos i couldn’t identify a mushroom (who fucking cares about mushrooms?) ok then superstar, why don’t YOU go out and do what i do exactly how i do it and call it entertainment then. foodie world is in a twist over me. so many passive aggressive clearly directed at me quips on twitter about bloggers with no cred vs food critics. um, who reaches more? who pays attention to food critics? if someone comes to toronto for a weekend and wants to check some chic haunts who are they going to ask, the gruff unhip demi-god fat mouth OR the girl who makes her living having a good time and showcasing it to those wanting to emulate that same great time featured in a post chock-full of resto photos front of house to kitchen? think about it. taste the burn.
my review of these tights i cannot give you as i am not a legitimate tights critic. i didn’t train in hosiery at george brown so, you know, maybe you should ask a qualified professional that’s really what you should do because god knows anything i have to say on the topic of tights would just be invalid because i haven’t spent years wearing them. even though i have. cool logic much?
you are not allowed to be enterprising or good at what you do, or do it period, if others are doing it. every time i roll out a raymi food feature i see the nastiest things in my comments. rival restaurants, their food geek groupies, they all have something to say. you don’t have to be jealous, just cos it didn’t occur to you to make up a taste menu to be photographed and gorged by a blogger first doesn’t mean you have to fling shit at those who have. you could still invite me ’round you know, it is possible to live to dine again and again. gasp.
my foodie feature reviews, yes, because they ARE reviews, the idea for how i do them i gleaned from infamous blogger xiaxue of singapore. she has eclipsed and transcended every single “established” or “qualified” critic, reviewer, whathaveyou there is and she’s smart too. when i first came across her i much felt like how one must feel when they first come across me. you want to hate. narcisstic photos, opinions you disagree with, swear words, cuteness. you become addicted inevitably, whether you like or hate, you know it’s entertaining and possesses the hallmarks of what one wants out of their pop culture these days and then more than that. i was blown away by her food reviews, shock and awe and jealous. all she does is eat and she looks like that, totally petite, princessy, perfection. it all makes sense. i want to look at her eat. it’s fascinating. not everyone can get away with overkill on the internet but they can when they lure us in like a snake charmer and then blow us away. you have my vote.
so about five years ago i started photographing my food, my dates with my ex, from beginning to end. you live in a city you go out a lot and as a blogger you need your content. my food reviews would only have like one picture of me cos my ex it was like pulling teeth plus i was a little shier cos the city folk are assholes about cameras it’s like you’re the only one in the world who has a digital camera sometimes.
now, this practice is what we call accruing experience via real life so therefore yes, i am qualified just as much if not more than the regular joe. i give out restaurant suggestions constantly, i know exactly where to go in this city for a date, work lunch, where to take the in-laws, where to pick up, and so on. it does matter what the blogger says because the blogger is the influencer. people have been asking my advice on shit on the internet for ten years, relationship advice, music advice, movies, whatever, it’s cos i am one who willingly divulges opinions constantly (shit man i’ll even give you opinions of my opinions). this makes me a critic. a professional life reviewer. someone like your mother. i don’t care if it pisses off some boring crank who missed the boat on packaging themselves as a commodity and clued in on the fact that maybe a food review is more interesting with dazzle.
personally, it also makes me feel better to jazz it up. if you look good on the outside then you feel good on the inside. i’m not saying i am the president of good looking or anything, i’m just saying when you combine everything like i do, spread yourself around some, and put a pink bow in your head, people get angry. blame it on xiaxue. she’s right. she got it right and you are getting it wrong so instead of trying to fight it why not embrace and appreciate it. you can only cycle through facebook so many times right? girls on look book are they fashion experts? damn fucking straight they are you will never know more about fashion than at the age of twenty, that’s when you’re on your game and able to be daring and the older you get the less you care or pay attention. it is work to keep at it. when i walk around forever 21 and i’m too lazy to invent myself an entire outfit i just check out what my fellow shoppers are wearing and cut out their stupid over-doing it over-accessorized crap, and pull from the DO’s, shave off the DON’Ts. take that girl’s heart necklace, that girl’s pencil skirt moccasin combo, and then that girl’s boho bag. that shit will not happen in northern getaway alright. the point is these girls clearly didn’t go to fashion school but are they qualified style influencers? how is that ok but it’s not ok for me, someone with many years of actual urban food eating experience, photographing, REVIEWING, to go head-to-head with a traditional foodie geek? to top it off, i made my own business out of it, i am winning. that’s the entire point. winning is not allowed. wah. wah. are we going to cry foul play on bloggers for another decade now? are you CNN getting in on this whole blogging thing that the kids are doing now? were we only blogging yesterday? didn’t you see this coming? stop sleeping at the wheel.
i work very hard. i work very hard like you work very hard and i don’t sleep enough. i personal train three times a week in the morning. when i’m done it’s still an hour til noon and then i move on to the next task and the next and the next. i am not just some blogger, some blogger is just some blogger.
keep voting i don’t know why the hell i’m losing and i don’t care. clearly it’s more important to her, she doesn’t even rank on alexa. she added me to facebook then de-added me. cuckoo.
look at that little bee in the hive. can there be two queen bees? we had an argument over who was gold and who was silver then i stated i was platinum. the casie raymi show might make you want to blow your brains out, like jersey shore, therefore it is compelling television.
ripped’er good the nite prior and still showed up and did our thing thang. other hangover partiers from the night prior who couldn’t do the same, tsk tsk and you bet your ass ‘dems fightin’ words haha. you know who you are. casie was the perfect little hostess. love her.
my little brosz7ki showed up with the best christmas present for me ever, a hangover. which means one beer in and it’s hilarious town. it’s the gift that keeps on giving, your big polish mouth. i made his salmon bagel with extra love just for that.
admiring and doting on the sixteen year old little raymi (daniel) who showed up, first too, and he’s so shy it was adorable so can i get you a beer? i ask, he’s like no, i’m sixteen. uh whoops guess not then how about some pancakes? no problem. casie and i are going to host a getting laid symposium for all the social media guys out there. it’s really simple, really. it’s called MANNING UP and quittin’ with this shyness shit. fyi look how motherly i look i just came from my warm kitchen with snowflakes floating slowly by the window over the sink and i was baking you cookies and listening to all of your worries and then i gave you a big reassuring hug.
taking my personal trainer‘s order and pretty much everything he ordered was f’d up. not my fault. bailey punched it in and i told her every (diva) specification james laid out for me. peameal grilled not flat top, tomatoes not potatoes and three ridiculous super well done scrambled eggs. he sent it back. you’ll see. oh bother.
microphone tongs i TOTALLY needed these and they’re EXACTLY what i’ve always wanted i woke up that morning and was trying to decide what one object (if any) could make my life complete. bingo!
stew goes over his order that took me forever to get out for him cos there were a few orders for “real” customers in the way first, while james talks shit in my ear about whatever. i am learning how to tune him out.
pancakes and bacon. simple. last to get his food hahaha. more people kept arriving and somehow got their way more complicated orders ahead of poor daniel.
one of many valuable life lessons i’m sure he gleaned yesterday. just give me a second to make up some kind of funny irrelevant life lesson he could’ve learned um, waiting around with urban hungover creative go-getting types at brunch is enriching can’t possibly narrow it down to one singular lesson. there. it’s called the future. soak it in.
mr. ward rolls on in and i’m talking more shit to someone else and you can see a guy eyeballing me curiously albeit skeptically against the wall there.
brunch is easy to cook it’s very straightforward but left to my own devices i’d have to actually train and learn where everything in the kitchen lives. i don’t think brunch on a sunday is easy or fun though.
columbia kept going hot stuff behind you meaning don’t move suddenly even though i’d be standing stock still like a mummy not even flinching so it started to get on my nerves a little i then decided it was rippin’ time for columbia. not one of my jokes went over well and then i had to do the defensive paranoia back pat pedal my way out of whatever insulting thing i just said. being me is exhausting especially in high stress moments.
i wonder if my left arm is going to atrophy pressed against my body like that like that guy norm macdonald always impersonated on snl, which president? that’s my I AM THINKING arm. oh hi christine.
i was a machine. no one believed i was actually cooking their food. what the hell did you think i was doing up there the entire time exactly in that apron, doing my nails?
bean salad. i love the little ramicans. fancy. the extra class presentation mile pays off instead of having sloppy wet beans all over the plate. see how columbia is hawk-eyeing my steez jeez guy it’s just bean salad relax ahaha.
i even bussed tables. what other employee shows up on time with a film crew, does all this then blogs about it? um, employee of the month plaque please to go along with my microphone tongs shadow box.
they’ll be expanding eventually so now’s the time to get in on the raymi gravy BOOM train and make use of that raymi D List i’ve generously extended to you. who likes discounts? your mom does. tell her i said you’re welcome.
also could you please KEEP VOTING THANK YOU from whatever other ip addresses you have available to you, it’s a close one. tweeting the url would also help. i know my haters are voting for my competitor. THANKS ASSHOLES! i do not suffer losing nicely. picture the rachel mcadams scream scene in mean girls when she realises blowhan has been feeding her bulking up chocolate bars that will be me if i lose. not pretty. also i deserve to win because i am a whore for this blog that you get to make fun of every day.
look it’s me wearing my toms shoes that everybody makes fun of (jealously) every time i (rarely) wear them (not the season) someone says YOU ARE SUCH A F–ING HIPSTER. if i knew they were such a big deal in that regard maybe i wouldn’t have bought them. not true, they were massively discounted and i cannot avoid sales. i feel like i’ll stop breathing if i don’t buy that beautiful for sale thing.
