can you see this stupid thing yet? the worst, just the worst. you take a week off from everything and then get forced to confront it. good fucking show, that. the best is 4000 of the same email, tweet, fb message asking me if i know my blog is messed. really? I WRITE ON THE GODDAMN THING EVERY DAY OF COURSE I FUCKING KNOW. thank you for adding to the stress pile and sorry for yelling. i am so behind i want to puke. my computer was infected too. tricky spam. the climate of late has been icing on the sweltering shit cake too.
look i held an iguana bearded dragon in streetsville.
the guy it belonged to was kind of a nutcase. you’d have to be to own one of these things and wear it on your shoulder. cool story.
so what have we been up to? well as previously mentioned we went to streetsville to hang with some old townie buds, not a bad time. drove back to the city cos they were all bored. really? this is a mini-toronto break for me why are you wanting to go baaaaaaack ugh fine i’ll take that fantastic voyage.
i went to cobourg and the weather was great. that forecast couldn’t have been more inaccurate. not complaining. i’ve loads of photos but now that my computer is mangled i can’t preview any of them. yes, everything has fallen to shit.
i give good grill.
I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW. looks like i’ll be wearing my hair up all summer long. it’s too short for this heat. i look at old photos of my long hair and sigh my head off. yeah yeah it had to be done but still, no more mermaid for the time being just straight pebbles. another good news thing is i’ve put on like 15lbs out of nowhere. very fucking pleased about it. you do not want to be my friend right now. trust me.
hung brunch with everybody on their fake best behavior and cottage passive aggression sunk in way too soon which is most brutal for someone who is constantly the new girl everywhere they go. always on always smiling while inside, DYING.
oh perfect i’ve just discovered my laptop’s sound device is no longer working. incredible. you have no idea how much this glitch has messed with my game. hey hi there here’s my business card but don’t visit my blog because it’ll blow up your computer no really i’m legit. barf.
so anyone with laptop sponsoring hook-ups do let me know i am fully in charity case mode right now.
i joined a dating site. i know. desperate. after hearing billions of stories from my mom and all her coug girlfriends being addicted to it i figured what the hell. i can’t keep picking up dudes off the street or in bars or insane asylums. i figure it’s alright cos you know what’s up straight off the bat instead of playing eye tag all nite long in some shitty hipster dive with a guy who turns out has a girlfriend anyway, why waste my fucking time hombre?
i have loads of messages piled up i haven’t looked at cos i’ve been too repulsed by the state of my laptop and blog so who knows what’s waiting for me. i’m getting by on looks and charm alone over there, no raymitheminxing which will be great for you guys. date stories blog. i only joined a few days ago. went on one date last nite and it was really good. i say no more for now.
mer was my boyfriend last nite for the sex and the city sneak preview screening. she won us a gift bag. that movie was, um, totally shitty and totally fine. you pretty much get exactly what you expect from it. outdated slang, way too many unfunny puns, retarded unrealistic outfits, stupid soundtrack, a plot that relied way too hard and long on united arab emirates. meh. if you’re going to experience that one way or another eventually you may as well do it surrounded by all of toronto’s media PR who the fuck are these people type crowd instead of renting it in secret and watching it in a cave. i never watched the shows, i am not that type of girl, though i could be? whatever, it was a fun time pouring vodka out of meredith’s flask into our complimentary diet cokes, shoveling gift bag chocolates into my mouth and popcorn, snickering and heckling our way through it. i could watch a dumptruck reverse in slow motion for an hour and be perfectly content.
i severely doubt any kid is happy that their parent shops here.
here’s a dumb story before i go.
so on friday it’s awful gorgeous out right, i decide to walk to grab some ganj for the weekend in my beautiful blue maxi dress i have not taken out since i bought it around christmas time. on my days off i amble. it’s free, it’s a good thing to do baked, you cruise and be cruised. my plan was to also walk to union and grab my bike and ride it home in time to pack to go away for the weekend. i figured it might be the only sun i see all weekend long. so i’m walking listening to my zune, feeling great, i make it through bellwoods and just as i’m hitting dundas i notice my left white canvas shoe has blood all over it. my blood. from the inside. soaked through. what. the. fuck. no i did not notice the wet blood feeling i thought it was just sweat as your feet get moist in those guys sans socks. also, the pain was all focused on my right toe cos i stubbed it on my dad’s patio a few days prior. i sit on this bench out front of that delicate fancy diner on dundas feeling like a total scumbag and try to assess why the hell my foot is bleeding and from where. couldn’t even find the site wound there was so much blood and it didn’t even hurt. at all. baffling. i go inside and attempt to clean it up only making it worse, spreading the stain. these shoes are fucking toast.
gruesome.
when the course of your day is to revolve around walking, you kind of get a little down about a thing like a blood-soaked sweaty white canvas shoe. also by now my heels are starting to kill. everything’s breaking down. i am slightly annoyed. so i hit the market, get my stuff and decide to walk down to queen/spadina and buy a new pair of shoes. i have zero patience for kensington market vintage shoe browsing with a bloody foot, i need sandals stat.
i looked like this. didn’t even notice the hipster ad campaign. kinda funny. drink expensive beer and people will think you’re not only a hipster, but a yuppie hipster at that. anyway i get to ardene at queen/spadina go straight to the flip flop wall of fame and grab a red straw thatched pair for five bucks and chuck the shoes in their trash. i am then consumer victimized by this nice white sleeve over-sized drapey looking shirt so i try it on over my dress and decide to get it then of course get roped into buying a necklace too (men, this is how these things happen with us women and why we come home with parcels full of shit. not our fault, it’s the savvy marketer’s) because ardene has 2 for $20 or 3 for $30 whatever all the time those a-holes. i can barely tolerate looking through their atrocious cheesy clothes for another shirt so i choose necklace route. takes like ten minutes to decide which one, narrowing it down to this wispy antique gold feather delicate little guy over the handful of keys necklace. i pay and on my way out bump into caitlin whom i barely recognize, we chit chat, i tell her my bloody shoe incident explaining why i am in that ridiculous store in the first place. i also really have to go to the bathroom, bloated as hell. performing any task when you have to pee is just, ugh. so i walk to letterie next door and remember i left the necklace i was originally wearing dangling on a hook by a mirror, i go back to get it, caitlin is still in there and shoots me a you are insane look.
i’m in the john having the best most bladder-relieving piss of the century and what should happen? the feather necklace i was just conned into purchasing around my neck? explodes into pieces all over the floor at my fucking feet. do you know how annoying it is trying to move around in a maxi dress on a hot day in a public restroom to begin with but then your necklace falls to pieces without you even touching it? i collect it all and by this point I AM PISSED. sorry, “slightly irritated” all the while i’m getting numerous messages over my blackberry about this stupid blog virus (which has bummed me out pretty bad to be honest). i march back into ardene like i fucking live there now just as caitlin is walking out and i’m all, don’t even. no kidding she’s just this isn’t your day is it? i put my hand over the counter in front of the clerk and let the chain necklace remnants speak for themselves. request the other necklace i wanted more in the first place and walked over to union thinking now if my bike is stolen i am really going to lose my mind here. it wasn’t. sorry to disappoint you.
xoxoxo
if this virus thing ever happens again just follow my retarded life on twitter for awhile.
oh man these dating emails are priceless. check it:
Hello, Please read his full message, for you see I am a traveller from the future where you and I are together and married. I know this is hard to believe, but our children save the world from an alien attack, And so I have travelled back in time to ensure that you and I get together…
So please for the love of the world send me a message back! Because if you don’t the world as we know it will come to an end!! Or if you just feel like talking just send me a message back
oh hi there you’re still hanging around? nice to see you.
well, some memory lane was had yesterday. stories from days of yore were shared. was refreshed of many a tale starring your fearless hero performing many idiotic tasks. i blocked out tons of these happenings. mostly they’re all me skipping curfew and then the ensuing shit storm of that which i pulled the plug on wanting to listen to any more stories thereof. buzzkill city.
recounted the first time i tried blow and had a panic attack not knowing what it was. on a school night too! ha.
it was bizarre and surreal and nice to see my old hood and old faces knowing a slew of them don’t recognize me at all so i could stare away freely. anonymously. having all this background info on a guy walking by and him none the wiser. old hardware store customers. town crazies. wanderers. delinquents. so much time has passed and yet it was like it stood still. i was happy to see random familiar faces mucking about around town like oh so-and-so is still alive. good.
it’s always interesting to find out who’s banged who, naturally, and good to know it all happened after i left town.
i’m feeling the suburbia lately and feeling it feeling me. big fish, small pond. oh yes.
i’m scanning my computer right now because its got some viruses. yes from my blog. fucking shit. ugh. sorry if you get it be careful. the nerds told me it’s not infected anymore so feel free to come back and browse my bewbs scare-free.
i’m going away this weekend. don’t forget the brew/booze store closes at 5 on sunday so you better make it in time cos that shit’s closed on monday.
sorry if you’re getting an anti-virus thinger on here i likely approved some spam comment i shouldn’t have, i’ve got the nerds on it now.
in other news it is gorgeous out. grabbed a poor john’s coffee, some organic free trade beans from good catch, walked down to roncessvailles hair-pin turn down to king to no frills and blew 18 bucks on fruit and yogurt came back here and blended the family and walter the landlord some smoothies. recipe:
-pint of strawberries
-two bananas
-one kiwi (they weren’t exactly ripe yet, woulda thrown in a couple more)
-half cup vanilla yogurt
-handful of blackberries
-soy milk
-oj/cran juice a few dollops of
-6 ice cubes
sooooooooooooo goooooooood. walter says you can pay big bucks for that “downtown”. haha awesome.
today i’m goin’ west for a trip back in time to nostalgiaville. excited. patio partio sunshine, small townies, old friends. i’ll be filing that under a fuck and throwin’ a yeah in for good measure.
oh and i finally got my period. that’s like every 50 days now? word.
they call me mellow yellow.
xoxo
i made everyone wave at me a few weeks ago “for our facebook” heheh. i love awkward waving, it’s my specialty. in a few background/music videos i’ve been in, my awkward wave is captured. go sit on the central’s patio today it gets the best sun and then you can move up to the rooftop patio for more, lasts there longer.
time to wash my hair, haven’t since sunday. i’ve been flinstones pebbling it. such a time saver.
guess how many times i went to reach for my pencil only to grab the teeny raw paper pinner. then i was like why am i not smoking this that’ll clear the confusion up straight away. wish i brought my fake-out definition paper to blog.
my mom leaves her spectacles everywhere.
tim burton breakfastesque.
thanks mom!
Hey Raymi, my name is Nicole, I have been reading your blog for about five years now (I can’t believe it’s been that long, and you don’t know me WTF). I don’t know how you put up with the shit you do on the blog, nevermind your own criticisms of self and such, you gotta deal with preachers and idiots and people who are not living but think they know how you should live so they speel all this shit which is laughable for a time but would begin to actually make me crazy if I were in your shoes. I have so much respect for you just being able to come back to the site, let alone still show your edited life. You must get this all the time, however I truly relate to you and can see the shits even when you don’t say it. I gots the depression, had it since I was fourteen without even really realising it. All depressed people seem to think, at first, that it’s just how life is, a vast, silent shadow over everything, having to carry a corpse around with you everywhere, eventually you just stop going places because it’s too much weight to carry (this is where Sam comes in to carry Frodo). It led me headlong into alcoholism, anorexia and bulimia, anything to make noise, to distract me from the deathly quiet and despair. I know you talked quite a bit before on your blog about sadness, mental illness, such and such addictions, etc. But you are fairly quiet about it now, and I just want to ask if you are okay, I mean, really. You don’t know me, but do we ever really know anybody? You have been such a massive inspiration to me, someone I look to when I’m feeling anything (happy, sad, frustrated, bored), you’re almost like a drug, a good one, which I can’t get enough of, haha creepy. But I can see that lately your humor has seemed somewhat forced, you seem exhausted and ghostly, not in your appearance but just the feeling I get from the writing. I hope this hasn’t come out in any sense to offend you, my intent was to just let you know that I love you even though I don’t know you and even though the internet can be so superficial and fake, you are one of the few who are real, and always will be, and my heart goes out to your courage and beauty and honesty. It would be something to see you in love with life. With a handshake, have a damn alright afternoon.
in a huge way, depression is a wonderful thing. if you didn’t have that sadness at your heels what on earth else could possibly motivate you to do life-enriching things to be content? yes it gets exhausting but it’s a challenge, it keeps it interesting. i feel like if i were to ever approach a point where-in i had everything i could ever possibly want, desire, i’d still be sad. unfulfilled. unhappy. so just go with it. learn to love it. don’t let it consume you cos that’s just lazy and unacceptable. if i can power through it anyone can. white people problems as they so politically-incorrectly say. sad is a luxury.
i have a soft pink hard on. oh man haha i mean, soft baby pink is something i can really get behind as it’s the opposite of what i was all about as a teenage dirtbag. now, bring it on. i feel like i can stop time if i keep it feminine.
my darling melodie meticulously hot glued blue sequin pasties for me while i did my age of aquarius wardrobe. burning yourself with hot glue suuucks. it sticks and just keeps burning you. i have a bad blister on a finger i picked at (of course).
sometimes my room feels like under the umbrella tree. do you know this piece of canadiana television nostalgia reference? jacob gloria iggy hahaha.
my old h&m nude bathing suit bottoms. wearing that on the beach faking people out like i’m all nakes. olga saw me at a garage sale once and exclaimed I THOUGHT RAYMI WAS NAKED. now it’s all anne geddes‘d out. ew. no offense but babies are kind of disgusting especially dozing all enchanted-like on flowers, in flowers, flowerpots… 1990 is over in case you forgot. talk to me when you’re two. nah nah, just chubby babies. lazy slobs.
this got left behind at revival.
i don’t know about this forced humour our friend nicole is getting at. this is how i talk. yeah i throw a stupid rasta spin on shit to be a bit of an obnoxious cock here and there but really, i’ve got nothing left to give. i’m living my life in the real world. doing more, showing less. make assumptions, guestimations, anything you like. i’m spent. i have zero time to myself i have been running on empty for months. i am miserable and i am happy and i am stressed. i feel like i am doing all of the wrong things. i just wanted to peace out of blogging for a bit. if i’m not here i’m out living and tweeting out of boredom. i’m hunting but i don’t know what for. so many things have occurred over the past whatever and i don’t know where to begin.
one funny thing though or rather, just an observation. an anecdote. i feel a bit of a disconnect from blogging, i’ve been phoning it in for a little bit now but anyway i’m out at work or with friends, strangers, then some insidious horrible comment will come through or an email and it’s like what the fuck, really? you’re still on me? i’m of the mindset that if i’m busy, so should be everyone else. if i’m idle then i create more, write more, blog, more and assume everyone’s the same. not so. you go get a life and it pisses lots of people off. they want more. fine.
a lot of people disappointed me for not turning up to the show i feel as though you don’t really deserve to see footage of it in a way. my blog is a luxury to our one-sided relationship. all relationships should be reciprocal. ours isn’t so, fuck you.
it’s really strange having multiple of thousands reading you daily, watching, waiting, some of those people being your good pals. you go support their shit, or whatever, you blog, they read it, and then assume we’re all squared away, caught up when really i don’t know shit about their lives, they make no effort with me. each post is like a hey what’s up please leave a message at the tone voicemail. i am here with open arms, welcoming. always for the most part so when you hammer away at people hey this shit is going on please come, they make ten thousand excuses, warranted or not, it’s still shitty. i mean don’t get me wrong, the house was packed, every seat was spoken for and there was a lot of people standing room only but it woulda been nice to see some more familiar faces scattered in there. part of it is post-show blues and part of it is i am taking a motherfucking time out. i put a lot of time money and effort and work into it, is all i’m saying so don’t ask me about it right now thank you. ok i’ll stop whining now.
sometimes i’ll be alone on my bike with jeff buckley in the sun and just feel so amazing. so amazing. or i’ll just be alone and feel like i have the entire world. i’ll have a nice smoothie and amble around and smile at as many people as possible. singing too, still singing. biking and singing hipster trap tunes and that’s how you get your rubberneckers.
speaking of i need to not wear pants around burlington more often. ego stroke city. i don’t care how fucking arrogant this sounds, i make an effort to look nice it’s nice to see it appreciated not like here where you get checked out in secret which is why i’m going to cruise a dating site with a private account. i can’t keep picking up people on the street, or bars. so much effort expended and then things are going smoothly until they blow it then you have to start all over again and it makes you feel insane.
someone wants a guide to picking up dudes. here it is: talk to them. give them your number. ask if they are single. you can tell pretty much straight away if they are feeling you. how do you tell this? if they look at you and let you bust them checking you out: green light. if you see the same cat around a few bars and he’s checking you out, go up to him. guys will hang themselves pretty quick, the first red flag sign you get means you should back off but of course no one ever does. usually it’s 5 more red flags and you’re still drinking through it. be bold and brazen but not too “yourself” not too free-spirited i dunno, don’t act but don’t reveal it all. like i have amazing tan lines which is always a bonus once and if we hit some closed quarters. do i tell the broseph about them? no, hmm, but i should. maybe i’ll put that in my dating profile. moving on.
i’m looking for more essentially, but not totally looking, it kind of just happens. i can’t remember a life before not engaging with strangers. i kept my eyes on the pavement walking from A to B and let the shyness take me and what an awful waste of time that was. as a loyal girlfriend and fiance i didn’t even want the temptation or to entertain anything at all when ultimately flirting is a massive means to save your relationship. i was such a fool. i can’t see being the person i was before ever again. i don’t even know how that life was even possible. i am astounded. everything was so mapped out and now everyday is a brand new adventure who the fuck knows what’s next. i live like i am going to die tomorrow. if i’m not blogging i’m skipping around town. good weather makes blog hits go down anyway so why bust my ass?
oh and here’s an announcement i’ll type in caps lock:
I HAVE TEN PAIRS OF TICKETS FOR FYFE TO GIVE AWAY FOR HIS MAY 23 SHOW AT THE EL MO email me if you want a hook-up. if you pass my coolness test i may get you a drink too. this song has me sold.
check yous later. as for me, i’ll be l i v i n’.
oh and ps. here’s another thing that just occurred to me, the more i blog, the less i eat, the skinnier i am. the less i blog, the more i eat, the flabbier i am. blogging = skinny. fact.
finished making my age of aquarius outfit and now i think i’m addicted to hot gluing shit on shit. tomorrow i have to shred up a shirt for one of our numbers.
ate/drank face off at cafe taste tonite. doesn’t even feel like a saturday. i’m so tired. oh god i’m turning into one of those women rob keeps complaining about. exhausted city chicks. blargh.
went to the annex wreckroom with alicia, hayley, and nina last nite for like 40 minutes after being cut from work holy crap does that place ever suck. like, take the most asinine geeky ridiculous not getting it people ever stick ‘em in a room with shitty music and BAM, what the hell is going on? had to fight a weirdo for two seconds of stripper pole picture posing relax guy NOBODY is looking at you dance on that thing, no one wants to see your junked out crush fucked hand slippy seductive sensual disgustingly sweaty mating dance. stop it right now. then i climbed the thing and everyone realised the game had been brought and then they all thought they were as acrobatic and nimble as i. not so. some near face plants almost occurred.
as always though i had a hell of a time being the best dancer in the room. of course. hip hop dance party soon alicia san.
i realised i don’t ever go out out so when i’m in a new scene i’m all bug-eyed taking in my surroundings like this is what a friday nite is like, i’m typically working. oh fuck i have so much to do today i have to get faux flowers and make nipple pasties out of them and matching bottoms. reconstruct (deconstruct?) a hippie dress. maybe find new shoes cos those pieces of shit one of the straps of is about to blast off. fuck. ok see you next century. yesterday ruled. whatever i don’t have time to blog you can lurk on my flickr or as always i light it up pretty frequently on twitter.
one show a nite guys, autographs in the lobby. xo amigettes.
