a girl tried this jacket on in front of me and i said yes yes get it and she goes i dunno i think it makes me look bigger. i was like no man if anything it makes you look smaller. she was stacked and bigger. so i tried it on in a medium. sold. oh i just remembered i got hit on by not one but two chicks last nite at the brazen head. tfc lesbos. hot too. one i was taking money out at the atm and it came out all sloppy then for some reason showed my balance on the screen i went all aaaaaaghhh and covered it up and she goes all sloppy drunk oooh i’m hovering over you and i chuckled while trying to back out of the balance limbo i seemed to have been in, feverishly pressing enter (to exit), seriously why would it advertise a balance when one is like no i don’t want a receipt (waste of paper, planet killers) which in atm lingo means print balance on the screen apparently. so she repeats the oooh i’m hovering all over you line again for some reason (wasted) but this time rubs her tits ALL OVER ME like my shoulders ass full on body rub up. did i hallucinate that? anyway i get out of the thing and she goes don’t worry i didn’t look and i say (upon turning up the raymi androgyny flirt charm) oh no problem it’s a big one anyway (referring to balance) and she gets this sobering look like, what a fucking stud. what can i say, i got game. tell ya about the other hit on afterward, i brought her back to the bar with me like a prize to rob just to give her my card in front of him and rub it in his face. she’s 21. touch down. swish! one more and it woulda been a hat trick. ok any more sports references? home run. strike. gayyyy.
bumped into an old friend waiting for the train. he had these man cupcakes. one made with guinness. cool but ew. hate stout. unless it’s that kind they used to have on tap at the queen’s head in oakvegas. starts with a J i can never remember the name and it’s similar to jamesons but probably not. i wanted one of these so badly.
one of these days i’m going to wrestle my brother so bad i make him cry. that is worth weight training for. i’ll have to attack him in his sleep though and then take off on my longboard bahahaha i am laughing out loud right now. he’d be like well played then lie in wait to get me some other time.
she wants the exact nella bella bag i have. not surprised. i love it and get stopped about it often. when my mom saw it and the other one she went oooh, that’s designer. some people just know their shit eh?
everyone’s eyeballs exploded when they saw my gift plus money. i don’t see her nearly as often as i’d like so i wanted to spoil her a bit and make up for it.
got her a poketo wallet i love those things. i have to get a more adult wallet though people aren’t taking me seriously anymore when i take mine out all mangled and juvenile stuffed with cash.
die-hard forever 21er. none of their clothes come in extra small sizes though. i guess that’s so little girls don’t dress like whores. managed to pick her out some wholesome duds when we went on sunday together. hailey is following in our footsteps and a major nirvana fan now so i found her a striped grunge cardigan.
i love canadian money. also who cares american comedians? get better material. i know! lets do ten minutes of stand-up about every single country’s currency what is this a geography lesson? how about how boring and uninspired and dirty looking yours is. there.
this (much appreciated) extra (so it was worth it) was so inflatedly-priced i am cringing right now. no more sprees for a month. they taste like icing too. no mint about it. lies.
shawn agreed it was time to start pestering her so i found this little jar of paper punch out confetti casie put in my birthday present. i was going to toss it at the back of her newspaper to scare her then i was like wtf i should just dust her in confetti. shawn didn’t know what i had in my hand or that i had poured the confetti into my hand all stealth-like so he just sees me casually wave my arm and confetti spray my mom probably one of the top ten hall of fame family funny moments, absolutely perfectly timed. he couldn’t breathe he was laughing so hard he’s like WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT WHATTTTT??!? then cackled hysterically while my mom hams up innocent victim role for optimum attention.
extra funny cos my dad is ocd about cleaning. like, the guy has his cat shaved like a poodle so he doesn’t have to vaccuum the house (he said he’s not doing that anymore but i don’t believe it cos it’s not in writing) so picturing my dad sighing at this mess amped up the funny and guess what he didn’t even make a big deal about it.
cool kids. i had to fight to dress grunge (slob) when i was her age. now you can just walk into a store and parents are like do whatever i don’t care. kids these days have no idea how lucky they are yes i am a fogey now for saying that. tres depressing.
i could tell they were shocked by my allowing them to go photo wild with me and i even took part in it. i am making an effort to not be a gritch anymore.
i love dainty princess jewelry. i would wear ten swarovski crystal bracelets at the same time, only in baby pastels though. mom don’t forget to bring me that other one you have.
i want to dip a whole bunch of weird shaped foods into chocolate. maybe i’ll do that for my party? stuff that will actually taste good though. starfruit slices are a start.
gahahahah this photo is hysterical to me right now and i haven’t even gotten stoned yet. i can’t wait to hang out with skidfanie tomorrow and laugh for five hours at this picture. ready for a (pedantic)(i finally looked up what that word means and i don’t take it as insult anymore so meh) tour of LUXE Tanning Studio? we all know how tanorexic i am so finally a raymi review of something i do constantly anyway. now i just need to review a meth lab. ha ah ha. so totally kidding i’ve never tried meth nor do i plan on it. i’ll be reviewing that weed field on that island in the movie the beach next. here’s hoping.
this was my first time poking around liberty village on foot. gotta say, the yuppie fetish boner in me was kinda diggin’ the scene. i love old and rustic but i also love fresh and modern. i love it all. i am such a mess of desire.
so naturally, this swanky studio fits right in. i love see-thru furniture.
And fantastic lighting. Warning you now because one guy whined about looking at my blog at work, there is one photo of tits in this post.
that’s jess the owner there. she’s young(er than me) and a business owner. excuse me while i shoot myself. check my luggage i walked straight there from the train. i love having my own go station in my hood.
cozy. if you’re a design elitist nerd needing some uv this is your scene.
i am in the wrong fuckin’ business bro.
coolest bulbs. what are they called? old school in the new school.
THE cadillac of tanning beds. they all have different names but i refer to it as a super bed. you know, shorter duration, higher wattage, quicker tan. jess says it’s actually called HIGH PRESSURE and “More UVA, less likely to get red..more bronze!!! ideal pairing for double dip. That is all :)” i’ve never used a bed that isn’t a full dome before. it is so relaxing and comfortable cos there’s grooves that support pressure points of your body not like the older beds that are just flat.
decided to come back the following day (this morning) because i didn’t want to take my makeup off pre-spray tan. i went to the brazen head to get pissed with rob and catch up. we haven’t hung out in months. he’s going to guest blog for me while i’m gone. make a full on mockery of my blog, photos of his outfits and what he eats ahhaha, take complete control of everything. even go out on review missions. won’t that be a treat.
doesn’t that remind you of the deep relaxation spa from zoolander. i’m trying to type relaxtion phonetically how milla jovovich says it. cum deep deeeeep re-lack-say-shun.
i feel like if i had my own business it would just look like a garbage dump which is why i’m so impressed all the time by other people’s aesthetic. once i have my own space what the hell will i do with it? i feel like i am always waiting out on that. i talked to a guy at beerfest about letting me live for free in his brand new condo building and just pimp the hell out of the place on my blog (guy fucking email me already!) and deck it the hell out, product placement city. start filming a show there.
don’t even ask me what this means. it’s more for her to know how many minutes one should have. or the tone level of spray and when your last session was.
when we were talking i couldn’t stop looking at these so only took in about fifty per cent of what jess was telling me until i said sorry i have to take a picture of these like, right now. fruit fly attention span.
spray tan machine! intimidating. every spray tan demo you see on tv, footage of some retarded tv host or girl trying out for something (ew remember that pageant show on tlc?) in these booths they’re all clumsy and awkward well, that’s not acting. you feel like a complete tard ass and scared. hahaha aw. it’s just my nature to be neurotic and ask ten thousand questions. it’s the easiest thing though really no need to be scared.
you don’t have to worry about any of this. all you have to do is press the green button inside the unit and listen to instructions, performing four different standing positions and remembering to close your eyes (and mouth).
you do this one egyptian pose to get the parts beneath your arms. i almost fell over cos i had my eyes closed tight (you know and can anticipate the spray so it’s not necessary to have your eyes jammed) during the first standing position transition.
more invisible. i link modernist furniture to intelligence. people who own shit like this seem smarter. also you know it’s not cheap so it’s obviously a status thing too. sort of relevant, rob and i were talking about me and kerouac and he said that’s pedigree baby. i asked what he meant and said if i was a horse he’d buy me cos my grandfather’s cousin was jack kerouac, IF jack kerouac was a fast running horse (good metaphor?) i thought he meant nepotism but anyway, status, intelligence, pedigree, all lead to elitism. yes? can’t wait til i go back to my non-conformist phase it is sooo much more affordable.
i’m going to stop working out for a few weeks and see if i get tinier. backward right? it’s keeping me fat i just know it. it keeps me hungry that’s for sure. the muscle bulk of my thighs is pissing me off and making me feel bigger and my one fave pair of skinny jeans is impossible to hike up. i mean they fit and i wear them still but it’s like the incredible fucking hulk getting them on.
rob told me i’m an idiot to stop and that my ass is firmer. so what i’d rather go back to being a waif with less of a badonk. i’ll still go to do weights and abs shit but no more treadmill. ok i’m not actually going to stop working out i’m just going to stop running like a mental case and getting gymnast legs. barf.
ugh such a beast. i don’t really know anyone who doesn’t look disgusting from behind. yes dear i’ll have some more coffee, i look up and think holy shit i just slept with a warlock what the hell is that lurching away from me??
these are the only two i’m posting. i did all the various poses but i just looked too repulsive sorry. not paid enough for that embarrassment next time when i’m more fit maybe.
my floating americano from cloud 9 (?) i love that place. they have nutella cookies. i didn’t get one but yeah, please go try one and tell me if it’s worth it.
i looked like shit. i didn’t dress up cos i figured it would all just be photos of me in my underwear or naked plus no makeup. roots job tomorrow (i am obsessed).
jess should be her own model for a blog post like this her body is in far better shape but i guess that’s not the point. they want the raymi, i give the raymi. by the way that is the world’s tightest most unforgiving shirt so don’t judge me too harshly. i told my therapist today about my body issues/starvation diet and he was like, ok this is kinda worse than your drinking. i’ll save that headcase crap for another post.
what a wiener. i wonder if the white layout is to help customers see their tans at their best. always wear white after a day at the beach, or a fake n bake. everyone will look like pale sickly piles of puke beside you. white after labour day foreverrrrr. thanks again fabfind, beginnin’ to be besties we is. you can get a great deal via ff still for luxe, 50% off so $20 for a spray tan you have til 1am to purchase it online. otherwise you just show up and say raymi sent you, jess will give you 10% off and that’s for whenever no time limit. ok bye now time to stare at myself in the mirror for ten minutes xoxox.
i am going to be doing just that. disappearing to a remote town in the middle of nowhere to finish my book once and for fucking all. i have never been to this place before. i will be staying in a house with a stranger. he has a girlfriend in the city. i have a friend who lives in this town. he is an artist, and a writer, like me. he told me about his town and i invited myself there. the secret reason was to go cold turkey and go big sur stir crazy within a day or two but then i started asking about restaurants and watering holes, which lead to requesting nice wine and hash on the premises and fuck there goes the whole town knowing about my arrival. i wasn’t going to blog at all but my friend said there will be laptops available to me.
i DID want to be mysterious about it though and post a few random photos, saying nothing about them. then i wondered why the hell would i punish myself and not do the one thing i love most, blogging. maybe i felt like punishing you guys instead. maybe i am just one publicity stunt after another.
people always go away somewhere remote and say they’re going to write a book but then they never fucking do and before they know it they are back in the city again. please tell me to go fuck myself if i come back with no writings writ.
i remembered just the other day some new bit of information about myself and the history of raymi i had completely forgotten about i had a total A-HA! moment when it came to me. totally not that interesting but well, it’s something.
everyone asks me why raymi, why that name. why a name at all? why not my own? at the age of 15, close to 16, i was starting to haunt book stores, particularly chapters and i’d buy books like mental. spending hours in a book store consuming them, you learn a lot about marketing, selling, namely books. so i got the notion ok i’m going to publish a book and it will sell because i’m so fucking young it’ll be provocative and clever and have a hook (my young age) and somehow i’ll get it published. so i started writing THE LAST MINX and Raymi was the name i gave to the girl in the story, the narrator. that story is a piece of shit and i never finished it because i started blogging and partying. then i started writing another story when i moved into the crawford ghetto at age 19 which my friend craig says is awesome. maybe i should release it? my writing became a lot better, darker, matured. it’s really hard to write fiction, it’s so grandiose and pretentious. the way i write it anyway.
the “new” part of that is the reason why i was writing what i thought would be a book at the age of fifteen. i wanted it published by sixteen. then that became seventeen. then i didn’t feel any pressure anymore because i knew i’d hammer out a book someday. i told myself and whoever would listen at the time of 19 that it’s ok to be a complete mess dirtbag (experimental) drug addict drinker as long as you are writing (doing something creative, producing anything, painting, music etc) and you don’t let your brains or your talent go to waste. that little piece of sanity and common sense of mine always kept me in check. can’t say the same for other people. i justified debauchery with twenty pages of good writing every few days, combined with blogging.
now today what do i think about all of this?
i feel lost and i feel happy. i feel good. i’m ready to go at any moment, whatever adventure lays next for me right around the corner i’m up to it. i am a believer in positive thinking but even more than that i know you actually have to DO something to make things happen. i border doing and being. my being makes me a doer. i have to find that short story. this short story i read in grade six or seven. i kept (stole) the book from school. i repeat the last sentence in it a lot. i have blogged it. anyway, the point is there is no point. do something, or just be. if you be, then you have no right to complain if nothing happens for you ever. you have to try and you have to be better than everybody else and you have to put effort into being special. if everyone has their own social media tech empire and they’re all talking boring obsessive nonsense over twitter, what’s the point of what they’re building? does everything have to end in ads and impressions ugh so boring.
my brother just told me he was happy and it made me very happy to hear that. i spend a lot of time being selfish i feel, self-indulgent, i felt happy that at least one of us is happy right now. slight sting of jealousy? maybe. to feel happy about something that has absolutely nothing to do with you and your miserable life. so simple and pure.
the older i get the more i realize how much i cherish my family and my friends. it’s like, i get to spend time with these people whenever i want and i can buy them things and tell them about my ridiculous life and they actually like me? who made the rules how is this so good?
i am so high strung it’s offensive sometimes. takes me a while to loosen up and mellow out. the city can make you bananas. i am tired of dating and meeting freaks. i have no time for dating or rather the time it takes online interviewing these people and narrowing it down while half of them are aggressively pushing to meet and fighting you, ugh, then you finally select a guy and insert him into your weekly schedule if you can, you meet, he sucks. then you start all over again. i am picky and i am lazy and i am busy. i changed my profile header to i am going to die alone ughhhhh.
i regale friends with some dating tales and they are just so dearly entertained. living vicariously through my depression. at least someone is enjoying the show.
i have recently been accused of being a player. sometimes you don’t know your own strength, your charms, yes thank you for noticing that i am a catch, we’re just not compatible. i’m sorry to have to seinfeld you. you can’t force a match. you can’t make me like you by harassing me and insulting me. i was testing to see if you were cool about things. you aren’t and now you are scaring me. we could have been friends and took it (way) back a little to normalcy but shit got clingy. how am i to be held accountable for this? how am i a player? of course you keep options open and keep the lines of communication going until you decide to be exclusive. i never saw anyone else, had no time for it, but still accused and attacked about having my profile open. i’ve heard about this happening before, it’s pretty mental when it happens to you though.
anyway, yet again i am fully turned off of internet dating. he said i was talking to his friend online too. does he give a name? and so what’s the big deal if i was? just way too much drama. if i can leave my ex fiance and be man enough to take the guilt and pain of ending a five year relationship and break an engagement while taking attacks from the internet then why should i spare some guy i have only been on two “dates” with. you tell people you’re kinda finding your dating legs here and they still push and push when the secret code they’re supposed to read between the lines of is i. am. not. interested. in. you. in. that. way. i mean we coulda been cool but no, now we cannot. not after all those insults and accusations. still unbelievably pissed. so now in the stacks of unread messages i have, some guys actually seeming pretty decent, there’s apparently a mole planted. he might be fucking with me but whatever. i can’t trust any of them now thanks to this fucking guy.
he also has footage of me baked, singing and topless. great!
i don’t even care anymore. i told another ex if he ever released video of me being slutty he will only aid in the advancing of my career so do whatever. MIND TRAP.
there’s an important foodie event on the weekend i should stick around for but, i just can’t take any more city. i hmmed and hawed over postponing it by a week. i know if i keep delaying things it will never happen so i’m making it happen. i just see every single day/week playing out the exact same if i don’t piss off now.
i’ve decided to stay another night in burlington. i’ve barely relaxed since being here but oh well i’m having fun times. i feel like a kid again when i come out here. regressing is the best. peter pan syndrome forever. also, i’m sick. today was supposed to be the central staff party dunno what they ended up doing, clem put in a hot tub. but again sick i couldn’t picture myself in a bathingsuit in the grey world feeling so wiped. on a train packing my stuff, too lazy. my throat has been hurting and hoarse since saturday morning, it comes and goes. right now it comes.
this is one of the places i was during the g20 weekend. i know the bartender. i had a bender in oakville. taking a limousine in the opposite direction of cop cars and vans of politicians was crazy. in the pouring rain. i was really depressed that weekend. i had been holding on to something that wasn’t going to take off and finally let go of it and decided to write off my life for a couple days.
i want to do some funny pictures in an easy chair by a fire holding a glass of brandy in my hand so i can start branding my food posts as masterpiece dinner theatre with raymi.
my freakish memory skill addiction to tai play and 11up impressed everyone. then i walked up grabbed the cordless mic and threw down an elaborate rendition of so whatcha want replete with personal freestylings between verses. monnaghan’s never saw it coming. one guy told buenos that i had “nazi nipples” i am for sure buying a bra the second i get home. i was going to buy some at vic secret but i ran out of steam in the changeroom. auntie’s tired (hi binsk).
my niece uses the term awesomeness to describe stuff that’s awesome. i used it in a sentence to give her a thrill and she melted. she’s like, that’s MY word. i go, i know. as if it was my word now. she idolizes me a little (huge) and asked me ten times if i get recognized a lot. uh oh. wonder what she says about me at school to the other kids. oh to be a fly on the wall.
someone asked me why my photos always looked like they were taken from television. i should have lied and said they’re stills from my reality show i didn’t tell anyone about yet haha. um i mean they ARE. totally. for sure.
i am getting a bodum for my dad’s place. this means i will have purchased two bodums in a short period of time. two of something. sometimes you’re so lazy you don’t even get around to buying one of something. like, fuck i dunno, can’t think. that is irritating. i had to buy the first one cos i smashed melucas’.
i am going to enjoy being taller than my niece while it lasts. as if she’s not going to be a model. you can’t tell in pictures but the checked pattern of my brother’s shirt is very close to ricky’s shirt from trailer park boys. we laughed about that for a good bit. my brother has a lot of rickyisms to his nature. in this photo i have just discovered that my niece is ticklish. nana told me. oh really you are??? i love messin’ with kids.
after this was taken my brother was like ew why did i put my arm on you like that, that was gay and not skipping a beat i go yeah don’t touch me fag. my dad loves when we rip each other and he loves to talk about all the ripping we used to do as kids. this is why we’re so mouthy, our smart mouths were full on encouraged, rewarded with laughs and never punished.
don’t worry i get it pretty hard too. one thing about family is they’ll put you in your place like that. you think you’re hot shit step one foot in the door, carved. to. pieces. hysterical.
i am obsessed with my mom’s feet/toes they are always impeccable. we measured our heights. she is 5’7. i am 5’8. burn.
that’s enough for now. i’ll be back in the city tomorrow don’t lose your shiiiit. guess what ridiculous service i’ll be reviewing tomorrow. something i’ve never done before. i’ll give you a hint, it’s very cougar.
hello comrades. presently giving’er in burlington. who’d ever thunk one could just enjoy being a skidrat in the burbs where you are understimulated city. i’ve been hanging pictures up with my dad, rather, critiquing his efforts and doling out grades. A- dad. i don’t know why i find that so hilarious.
here i am waiting for the train. tfc fans were filing by. kinda hard to go zen in a photo shoot of one when a score of red and white drunken blur parade of people are ogling you and you’re not wearing any pants.
like so. is it even necessary to mention anymore how many fucking stupid comments get made to me, at me, while i’m in this blue collar town? like, ugh. i know these people look at celeb rags so they’ve seen outlandish outfits before therefore why is your mind blown inside out when i go by in socks? no different than the waitress’ uniform (pub kilt and knee socks) plus i’m the only one wearing a light jacket, loads warmer than the slonkies in gauzy shirts on the patio there. my outfit is tons more practical. there’s just something about shorts that sets people off, they are just unappreciated and unaccepted, uninvited. how do they differ so than the whore in the mini? it’s because i look good in a different way. i could look good in a common way and everyone’d just be happier but no, they can’t handle the extra factor. she looks good AND confident! GET HERRRRR! oh my god i’m so oppressed.
i should just be like I’M SORRY I JUST REALLY LIKE BASEBALL OK IS THAT OK WITH YOU? like how suburban secret lesbian chicks all wear basketball jerseys and play still.
this is what building a hipster looks like. we had a great afternoon. by the time we hit h&m i was like ok auntie lauren is tired now it’s time for a bench. many photos to come. i spoiled her.
i bought that shirt hanging up there but i have to get a bra, wicked see-thru. my mom comes in after with the same one in her hand and i died laughing cos i was in my change room looking at it and another pink shirt and thought i am so fucking turning into my mother she would buy this shirt no problem. i tried to get her to buy the same one too but she didn’t like how it fit her on the back. she looked really cute in it. i basically bought hailey a hipster starter 101 kit. poketo wallet. kawaii style chachkas. change purse. necklace. money. freedom scarf. sunglasses. lip gloss. styled outfit from f21.
ok as if i’m not going out as courtney love for halloween. all i have to do is, just go out. simple. and not wash my hair for three days or get any sleep and go on a bender. NO. PROBLEM.
time to get my eat on with my humble sidekick britt on the scene. this evening we were jammed amongst an unsuspecting (well, some were in on it) dinner party. boy, is your hero ever an anomalie to other people or what?
we arrive late and as previously mentioned, one of us is dressed as a diner waitress. FT! here’s a tip, if you ever can’t settle on something fancy to wear, then dress the opposite of everyone else. go bjork. people will be so confused they won’t notice you’re not in your nines.
first up we have Strazopretti pasta on the right (the history of this pasta and how it was invented is the chefs hated their priest so much they made him big thick pieces of pasta in hopes of it choking him to death. punk rock!) with a wild boar meat sauce (delicious, melt in your mouth) and ricotta ravioli on the left. very good. i ate it all despite my no carbs no starch no pasta mental illness. put anything before me and i will eat it. i am a pig. seriously. i’ll even eat brains. WILL be very soon actually. ugh i just threw up in my brain. EW.
doesn’t this make you want to hug your nana? alex the chef said those were spring vegetables and as an aside more so thinking aloud mentioned “even though spring is over…” don’t say stuff like that to bipolar rapid thinkers, sent me off in a pointless timewarp loop. if spring is over, how can i have spring vegetables. boggled.
check my dinner date. oh what a hilarious nite. the secret stories i’ll obscurely tell strung out over posts to come hahaha. i may or may not have gotten into a bit of a pissing contest with these chaps and when i wasn’t talking about myself for an hour straight i was making fun of them to their faces. they welcomed it.
pancetta, prosciutto, other salamis oh god and beneath a bowl of lettuce in burnt cheese. burnt crispy cheese that’s not blackened omfg you know how you fight over that piece with anyone. i got an entire bowl made of it.
risotto time. they flambé the interior of the cheese wheel to get it all melty hot then they pour the Risotto fagiano (golden spoon awarded risotto, seriously, you can make food that wins a golden spoon! i want one!) in pheasant truffle. no biggie.
who invented the flambe? greeks and their saganaki? jack astors and their fajitas? hahahhaahaha ahhh ha. sorry. wait i know you don’t flambe fajitas they just send it out on a hot plate and then everyone else wants to order them. so manipulative.
dig the interaction. kinda like at morton’s how the guy comes to carve your steak for you. so showy and unnecessary. meanwhile nba basketball players were sitting all around us. that was with matt good a few years ago.
this is what i look like when i feel shy. i look like my mother. sometimes i get shy about the dumbest things. look, something is happening aggh blush blush blush. i, am adorable.
here too bahahaha. you have to sneak up on people with your personality. walk softly, carry a big stick. not this time though i pretty much exploded right on in as they were feeling jolly and ready to give’r. ooh yeah this is where i shine. they were super fun to sit with, challenging, and entertaining.
i love truffle anything. anything. eh-neh-thing. the fumes of truffle emanating off the risotto gave me an HJ under the table i am that into truffles. have you ever read a food review on dine.to or martiniboys about food giving them a handy before? christ you haven’t lived.
this kid in grade 5 speed cheated off me so hard once he wrote my fucking name down in the name field. i snatched the paper and ratted on him cos he pissed me off all the time.
i don’t even think i get drunk at these things anymore as i’m balancing the wine with the food perfectly (and i’m also not there to get ploughed, high from food alone) and so a round of limoncello was due to crank this up a notch. one guy said no, i said why not, he said because we’re trying to be billionaires. ok ivory tower you will pass then. he slammed one down anyway but instantly became my enemy. i know men’s numbers all too well. i am en expert on yuppies, more so than blogging. i am attractd to them, it’s the 90’s in me i guess. also so completely my opposite it just works?
what is this a funeral? smile baby. another night highlight was (i guess we were hosed afterall) was fighting like sisters at the table that made everyone uncomfortable by. if only they knew what we were actually fighting about ha.
he has a gf. we have a collection of photos of me meeting people for the first time and that is exactly the facial expression on all their mugs. complete and total mush trance. toldja i was endearing.
Semi Strega molten chocolate cake. i love molten cakes. was given a box of them once can’t remember from whom or what but spent a week eating them you just chucked one in the microwave and there’s lunch.
didn’t know another would be coming to the table. serve me first otherwise i’m eating everyone else’s food because the tick in my brain thinks there’s a famine on the way.
i love this blurred-out photo. i don’t know why. melodie likes all the shitty photos too she gets mad when i delete the crappiest ones that make no sense ever like a photo of a wall, seriously, nothing else. funny. so i make a point to keep them all and fascinate myself for hours trying to find the beauty in it or try to “get” “it” oh man i know i do the quotations thing way too much i’m stopping today.
perfectly retro. at dinner this little yuppie said i looked like a diner waitress. oh man wait’ll my next post. to railroad, or not to railroad? that is the question.
britt said it’s betty draper. who’s that again? mad men. i never watch that show. i discovered it before anyone else did by accident once. then i forgot about it. then it exploded. then i stopped watching tv.
hello world. i wrote “a piece” on queefing when i was 18 years old. it went viral (fark) a few times, has been printed in many (indie) magazines (zines), tattoo culture jokey vice rip-off publications and the like. i get a lot of emails via it from people who know nothing of my blog or myself. i generally ignore them after forwarding to a few friends but sometimes i like to fuck with people because hey, that’s “how i do” so read on. i barely made it through this one too many things disgusted me about it to read it proper. i wish you luck on your quest.
Hi Raymi,
My name is William, but you can call me Bill. I loved your write-up on Pussy farts. You’re hillarious, laid-back, real, and super sexy all in one.
Im from Ann Arbor, Michigan origonally, but I live in Akron, OH. Right now. I don’t know where you are from, but I think you are awesome.
I have experienced the queef many times. I have an 8″+ cock size and in certain possition and tempos it can tend to pump some air in there. Sometimes it has happened with new parteners or ones that are a little self conscious, and I usually just say “that’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that” if I see they are a little embarassed. I think it’s cute. It’s kind of like a pleasant sigh of relief after a “particularly good pounding” (inside joke :-). Sometimes it happens after a multiple set of orgasms in and unusual position when my lover is bent over just right and then goes to lay flat and recooperate. However, I had a fabulous lover once whom responded to my body and abilities in such a powerfull and intense way that during some of our hotest moments, her pussy would quake with orgasms so hard that while I was taking long, full, hard thrusts so deep inside her body, her pussy would spasm and contract so hard it would squeeze and pull air around
my cock while in motion and make somewhat of a squirting & sucking sound. That was truly beautiful! I would make her cum so many times that she would loose count and when I just couldn’t hold it any more and would cum heavy anywhere she wanted it and then collaps in exhaustion from a job well done. It would take her 15 to 20 minutes to recover and walk again. It could tell you some stories. LOL! If you’re game, we could even make some new stories to tell together.
I was going to send a pic of myself, face shot or other, but wasn’t sure you would even get this. So, I hope if you do recieve this that you’ve enjoyed my input as much as I enjoyed reading your candid article on queefing. You should send me a sound clip of you doing it. That would be cool. HaHa! Hey, I wonder if you could put a sound clip of various pussy queefs on your website? You could get the girls together for a big pajama party and make some music with all those spectacular variations in the greatest organ in the world. That would be like icing on the cake.
Lots of Licks and Love,
William
sure send your photo ill put it on my blog. no penis picture though please.
What? You’re kidding! You want to put it on your blog? Do you have other guys pics on there as well and what would you write about me, if anything?
“Inquiring Minds”
i would just post your email and make fun of you
I see. That’s not quite the level of respect I had expected from you. Why would you make fun of me when I’m in support of your article? Did I offend you in some way? Please Send me a link to your blog so I can have a better idea of what you’re talking about.
“Inquiring Minds”
my blog is linked in my email signature. you wrote to a virtual stranger offering a pic of your dick and you describe the size of it, i barely read your email but what i glimpsed was overrun with spelling errors. you are in support of an article i wrote when i was 18 years old. i am now a 27 year old woman. the style of the writing of that article should tip you off that maybe i am a cynical pundit. i have little respect for those who offer pictures of their genitals online, why on earth would i want to see that? is this some kind of pick-up? was that the intention? really i want to know i’m not being snarky here.
Nine years has a way of changing us. I wrote to the frame of mind you were in then, which is apparently not where you are at now. The brutal and candid honesty you portrayed as you wrote your article held little back and so I didn’t think I needed to be that shy with you. So you’re now trying to tell me that the detailed discription of what your genitalia can do with air is somehow less intimate intimate then knowing a details about my genitalia? You seemed like such a free spirit and I appreciate people with those traits. Maybe life and love has bared some marks upon you that have made you more of a closed person now. Maybe you don’t feel the same way about men, as a result. I had no idea that page was so old. Surely things are different now.
I am so sorry that I have offended you, that I misspelled words in my email, that I described aspects of my anatomy, that I offered pics of myself, and that I would have loved to date that crazy, fun, 18 year old firecracker that wrote a brilliantly funny article on queefs. I cannot appologize enough for responding to you in this way. I feel awfull and ache with disapointment at the way I reached out to you. I am so very sorry Raymi. Please accept my appology. I beg your forgiveness. Please don’t be angry with me. I regretably made a mistake and wish there was some way I could take it all back, but I cannot. Please have mercy on me. I didn’t mean to come across in a way that displeases you. Can you forgive me Raymi?
Thanks Raymi. Go ahead and blog it. If anyone could bring out the humorous side of things, it would be you. Thank you for keeping my name confidential. Maybe you could call me the Pussy Connoisseur. I look forward to reading your blog and learning more about Raymi the Minx.
Ah! Yes, I knew there was something else about you I liked. I see you are also a marijuana enthusiast. LOL! Have fun, Love. Do what makes you happy. Let me know where you post that on your blog. Ttyl
William
Oh! Hey, if you get any positive female feedback, then send them my way. I love meeting new people. Even if they are in another country. I take it you are in Canada. Would love to go there some day. Take care Raymi
i can bravely say without any shadow of a doubt, and zero hesitation, that there will not be one solid ounce of positive female feedback coming from this and if it is your goal to pick up women on the internet, this is absolutely the opposite way to do it.
i also wrote a guide to “being a slut” about the same time, actually no, i wrote it when i was living in brooklyn earlier that year at 18 but anyway when i went mental (moral) i had them delete it because i wasn’t that kind of person anymore. i’m sure you can get it on the internet somewhere like this guy did,
Interesting concluding sentence this: “And no one gets hurt” when earlier was this “We don’t want another stalker to add to the list..
Clearly a lot of people……sorry, not people, I mean “stalkers”…let’s dehumanise those poor souls that get attached to you after you seduce them right away so we can pretend that “no one gets hurt” because, well they are “no ones” aren’t they? And yes, these “no ones”, these non-persons are getting hurt, and hurt bad.
I know, I pick up the pieces. Sometimes I’m too late.
Remember the original stalker movie, Fatal Attraction? Well, when it was first shown, we all knew at the time that Micheal Douglas was the villian of the piece. It was a cautionary tale about playing with people, about Nemesis following hubris.
You play with people…and believe me, it is the “harmless John’s” that when they realise they’ve been played…they will be the ones that will erupt in grief and rage…not the run-of-the-mill thugs.
How on earth can people like you be stopped? I don’t know…I only hope it was a parody, a piece you wrote to satirise what you think men do. I think not though…I think you really do go out to target nice men and leave them damaged.
initial reaction: What the hell are you talking about and then I believe you are referring to a piece of satire I wrote when I was seventeen years old which was deleted yet you somehow unearthed. That was ten years ago.
yeah was actually 18 but it was written about how i acted as a sixteen/seventeen year old. i guess the moral of the story is, be careful what you say on the internet it can come back to haunt you and some people can take it severely seriously when really you’re just having a laugh. my how to be a small town slut article exists still though. many people have asked if it’s about me. no, it isn’t.
