First of all, I’ll just say that I’ve read your blog for years and think it’s great. It can be funny and heartbreaking and endearing and honest, not to mention great publicity for all the restaurants and hangouts around the city. I wouldn’t know about half the places around here if you hadn’t haunted them first.
Anyway, what I’m really writing to talk about is: boobs. I myself am tiny tiny, not just chest-wise but all over, like you. I know you’ve acknowledged all that time that you’re pretty flat and I just wanted to say (as weird as it may sound) I think it’s awesome. I’m not self-conscious or insecure about being flat in the least, you don’t have to wear a bra, they’ve got a longer shelf life (ba dum tsshh!) when you get older, and you get to look like an adorable teenager instead of someone’s mom. Plus I’m pretty short so big boobs would just make me look shorter or stockier. But no matter how comfortable you are with your own body, and no matter how many hits from guys you get, there are still people who try and make you feel self-conscious, for whatever reason. I work with a bunch of guys and a lot of them make comments. Even other girls do it. And then a lot of times you see things like the Sunshine Girl, who can have a face like roadkill or the personality of a rock but if she’s got big tits then she’s hot. So when I read your blog and you’re walking around in tiny tanktops and bathing suits looking completely gorgeous then it’s just like Finally! Someone who doesn’t give a shit and is comfortable wearing whatever they want because it all looks good.
So, I guess, thank you? for being flat-chested? I don’t know if that even means anything, it’s not like you made the decision to be flat, but I guess I’m thanking you for embracing it and being beautiful and making me feel a little braver.
Emelie
oh look i’m in the fashion blues video for the beauties. look for my puma shirt, short shorts and long hair, i’m a butt shaking dance maniac. at :25 you see the back of my hair standing by the bar. at :55 you see the drake owner beckoning to me and i look cranked and cute to all fuck, doing my signature goony smile. at 1:06 you see my cute butt wiggle. at 1:12 you see my dance punching moves. at 1:50 my butt wiggle again. there’s probably more raymi cameos but i’m getting crow’s feet from squinting too hard so look for them yourselves.
met up at cadillac for the neil youngins, wasn’t feeling it so cafe taste it was to say hello to jeremy and make him think i was on another shitty date. i’ve brought a few there and sometimes email ahead and say ok, we’re goin’ by lauren tonite. hahha.
my pick-up line was you seem like an arrogant prick (something like that, i’ll get the exact line for you) and i’m into that. felt like i would be pre-rejected so i went the route of insult. worked like a charm.
he was accosted by some chicks who tried to mug him outside the jcc and they said give us your wallet you curly haired fuck! funnier than just curly and not like we don’t already do tons of swearing around here.
the best date was going on behind us. best eavesdropping ever. the chick was telling the most annoying story and the dude (magnificent dork) wanted her so badly he hung off every word. they were sloshed. when she got up to use the john she so did a wine wobble on the cobblestones. when he got up to piss she declared more wine and he held out his arm and in slow mo says YOU HAVE TWISTED MY ARRRRRRM and turned his arm around. so good. in hindsight we should have joined them.
curly haired fuck is big on sweets. green light. this is the chocolate nut butter they created on accident and now it’s a regular dessert feature. high-end peanut butter cup and sugar free.
maybe blink should be the nickname. no that’s gay and yes ladies he’s fucking hot, saving you the redundant comments trouble. we only mess around with babes in these parts y’hear? consider this me pissing all over him.
this is the teeniest shirt ever, it was alicia‘s. size 2 so no i’m not that much of a blob. actually the other shirt i was dragging around was hers too.
the photo of me and josh on twitter garnered lots of views cos i titled it me and josh and i guess everyone thought josh was my new man friend, burn sorry, just a dog. human names for animals are endlessly funny.
way way way too early for this guy and i can never sleep right when i have a sleepover. guys pass right out and i am like staring holes into them for snoring so peacefully and i always get the wrong side of the bed. they wake up all refreshed (drunk still) oh hi there and i am bizarro world retarded bloodshot beautiful-eyed oh hi yeah yes yep up and at’em byeeee.
didn’t have envelopes yesterday for a deposit nor today after walking through this lovely welcoming party in flip flops. great. then i saw a baggy of blow on my street and of course ten billion crushed fucks.
i have a new purse on the way in the mail, a nice big one, once it arrives i’m going to start taking the olympus ’round with me. it’s too precious to shove into one of my dirthole bags. this bag and these shoes and this dress courtesy of lovely leslie. she thought i was too depressed (was) so she swooped in and shared the wealth.
so they razor shag the ends to make them more real even though it’s already real hair. each clip is twenty bucks and they last as long as you’re good to them.
popped over to redd hair studio to visit britt get her brain bleached out and wouldn’t you know it they fell in love with our hero so this saturday i’m getting my own special hair extensions, gratis. these are just two pieces clipped in the front. makes all the difference eh. mom hair straight to orange county.
shannon the owner is exclusive up the yin yang not to be a priss or anything (SO to be a priss) she does all the celebs and is a fucking hair genius, you can’t just call and ask for her you have to BE somebody. i love hair sponsorship. any and everything sponsorship really but hair is tops as it’s always growing and can get pretty pricey. she said my dad and i did a good job on my roots and she likes the colour.
my hair looks like my dad’s on a saturday morning in 1989 making scrambled eggs with cartoons blaring. my hair was doing all sorts of weird shit yesterday. i made my bangs like astroboy a lot. ab was feeling it. she was also really feeling eating a pickle from chels’ grilled cheese order. THIS PICKLE IS AWESOME. guy, you’re blasted hahaha.
ab said yesterday that being a server is equally high stress a job as an air traffic controller and when the body undertakes a mass amount of stress it sits in your middle and you get fat. makes sense.
yes! too dark to get a photo of the carpaccio i had, which was incredible. i pulled a houdini on the girls cos i didn’t want to drink anymore, i needed to consume but it could no longer be booze or food, not that i even drank that much. bleh. so i went to honest ed’s and spent 52 dollars which equals truckloads of crap.
met up with craig at the drake for carpaccio and a mimosa he’s like, oh how nice you biked all the way from paris. no, more like honest ed’s during a panic attack. what a killer weekend.
before all that rob and i hit mitzi’s for dinner. we got there and had zero appetite so i had a cigarette. only half, it was disgusting and stupid but felt right. and very wrong.
melodie would rather go to the rummy bar with no pants on than eat one of the sad fish of mezzrow’s. i tried to tweet this last nite but it appears as though a drunk person got a hold of my account. how do you block someone on twitpic?
i’m on day three no weed now and i feel great. so much clarity and leaning out, bring on the chiseled, hello hip bones nice to see your friendly faces again. i haven’t been snack attacking and my crazy sugar cravings are pretty much non-existent now i feel like a total idiot for not doing this sooner.
if you follow my twitter then you already know i went on a pretty bad date the other nite but it’s ok as last nite’s date slayed. fuck’n finally and no i don’t feel bad for doing a play-by-play update on twitter. the guy sucked, his identity will never be revealed, no big deal. the dating scene is an awful soul-sucking place so why should i feel bad, fuck, i feel bad enough for myself. do you know how many crappy dates i’ve been on since i joined pof? i want to puke. it’s my life, i write about my life, get the fuck over it creeps.
why did i join that site? well for the billionth time it’s easier to learn what is up in this manner in lieu of eye-tag with a stranger in a bar all night long then neither of you approach one another and then you both go home glum and glummer. no i am not hard up, i get hit on like bananas, i get screamed at in the street all the time (good screams) but it never amounts to anything.
i am disgusted and repulsed by what is being said about myself, my mother, my ex, melodie, my friends, everything, right now on the good old internet. these people have nothing, no lives of their own to focus on it’s sick, totally unhealthy. i am resigned to this treatment and that’s wrong. i am desensitized by it. also wrong. people ask me all the time how i do this and i say well to pack it in now would be pretty fucking stupid. hatred comes with the territory. the nature of the flamer, troll, hater, is to purposely provoke and push buttons and to flub facts to make the attackee step in and correct then it drags on and on and on until you ignore. you’re never supposed to engage these fuckers but it’s so hard not to. blah. they say when i go to my dad’s i’m sponging off him. i visit my dad because we enjoy each other’s company and i’m a good bloody daughter and it’s a heatwave out here i like to leave the city and clear my head why the fuck am i defending myself to you assholes? so when you visit your family that’s you sponging too? cool logic. do you know it actually costs me money to go out there and i am self-sufuckingfficient i work fucking hard and i play fucking hard and guess what I DO MAKE MONEY OFF THIS BLOG FOR THE BILLIONTH GODDAMN TIME. when i go out and take photos of my life, that’s me MAKING MONEY. that’s my content. my life is my content where is the mystery is everyone on crazy pills here are you new? i also get to go to events for free and drink for free and so do my friends because we’re hip and connected that’s how it works, we go to exclusive parties that you do NOT because you’re not in-the-know, of-the-know, you are nothing of the sort and you never were nor will be. whose fault is that? you know what, if any of you had the nards to email me and ask i would take you as my plus one because i am that insane and generous you have no clue, seriously no clue that’s what’s ultimately so draining about every raymi bashing thread for my friends to bear witness to because they know me, they know i would give them my shirt.
there is some disgusting fuck in oakville stalking me on twitter. he made an account specifically to fuck with me. he told me to close my legs and toronto smells bad enough. how can people be so awful? i know i can be snarky and all but i am not a cruel person i also don’t harass people. all those anonymous shitstains bandy about the same excuse for years YEEEEEARS about why they “have” to be anonymous because i’ll come and stalk them. please. as if i have the time. i barely have time for the majority of my friends why on earth would i invest time in some lunatic i don’t even know or care about? you’re anonymous because 1. you’re either someone who knows me in the real world and you’re too afraid to tell me to my face what you feel about me yet for some reason maintain a phony relationship with me or 2. you’re disgusting-looking, you know in your heart you don’t measure up to snuff. the emptiest vessels make the most noise. true and true and true. you think i’ll reject you so you pre-reject. babies.
so like on a saturday nite and then a sunday afternoon when we’re out living our lives doing our thing these peons are aggressively obsessively talking about us and WE are the losers here???? get fucked guys!
how am i a terrible person for daring to go on dates and seek out a boyfriend?? and apparently i’m seeking one out to grift off of? ever heard of a thing called LOVE, black hearts? even jian (whom you also cannot stop talking about are you in fucking love with him?) or any other canadian notable, are famous people not allowed to date? spread themselves around like any other normal person? why are you SO brutally bitter?
i would just like to thank you on behalf of my clients, they will be pleased with the MINOR traffic spike your shitty little website garnered. they sure do love their stats.
-turns out friends are mutual friends of someone famous
-famous person’s photo goes on my blog
-blog lurker links to my post with said famous person’s photo in it the second i hit publish AND I’M THE LOSER AGAIN? i suck so bad that you just have to park on my blog 24/7? riiight.
-ten thousand bored people go who’s raymi
-person who initially linked to the photo of famous person explains who i am along with their personal raymi biases.
-famous person bashing turns into raymi bashing.
-i or my friend DARES to stand up for me which makes me even more despised because newsflash you are not allowed to stick up for yourself on the internet. you are one person, they are one person posing as 50 losers.
-thread hate ensues until you give them nothing, could be days.
i am super proud of my mother. i love her to pieces. she drives me nuts but so what whose mother doesn’t? she’s owning it big time. she is a very nurturing and caring person and will have anyone’s back in a crisis. she is a beautiful woman inside and out how DARE you say such disgusting things about my mother you are sickening and psychotic and i hope you feel terrible about all of this. despicable. you know who you fucking are. go look in the mirror, take a long hard look and tell yourself you feel great. you bitter, sad, sad, humans. i feel sorry for you.
