It didn’t last for very long though cos I destroyed three pounds of wings and we had hurricanes (tradition!) and that other drink that’s southern comfortable and JD plus coke and lime, oh man, pahhty. I’d be lying if I said my shirt and overall wicked constitution didn’t single-handedly change the entire vicinity’s night by way of positive atmosphere and good times party vibe, I mean, why do you go to a bar anyway, to be crabby? Fuck off.

Ok chillax brethren, no I am not that conceited I am just on a personal obsessive journey at looking babetastical sorry for angering you, actually no, I won’t. Apologizing makes you look tireder, you should apologize to me for ruining my “chi”.

No I am not actually that tiny, the bigness of the shirt makes it appear as such. Ok just kidding I am that tiny.

Even though he took this it was my vision.

We had a very very nice time because two night’s ago at pizzeria libretto we did’nae and it wasn’t my fault for once but it’s too bad I am a zen master at squabbles and have a ZERO TOLERANCE attitude towards bullshit so I got in a cab and hung out with myself for the rest of the evening. I likes to keep it mysterious and also when these couple fights occur it’s not that I am that close to pulling the bat shoot (escape rip cord, saying my brother has) it’s that, I am not wasting my life fighting any fucking more. Fighting about nothing too, at that. We went in all smiley and I was excited for my first time out of the house from working all damn day long (I am a prisoner to this blog and managing two events in a week on top of that, nahmean) so I feel sorry for the guy who decides to conjure a dark cloud above us. I take things like emotions and feelings seriously, cos aside from those things in life what else have you got to really care about if you’re sad all the time? For the sake of my sanity I have to keep it positive. When I sit in my colleague’s car and he starts dumping his problems on me I say thanks but no thanks, I specifically chose an unconventional lifestyle like a circus freak to entertain, delight and distract myself from the BURNING CONSTANT SADNESS WITHIN ahaha so don’t bring me down, chum. Also, I am not your therapist. Honestly my headspace is precious and there is enough goin’ on in there, I don’t want your horseshit.

It’s annoying that I can’t even reference half the people I’d like to in my own fairy tale as everyone knows my history so I can’t even bend the truth slightly to protect the identities of the (not so) innocent. #bloggerproblems. All I’m saying is I don’t claim to not be a handful or high maintenance but if you an’t handle the Raymi show then get a more subservient wallflower of a girlfriend, cos that ain’t me and I am firing full attention aggressively in to my career and it takes a lot out of me, I stated clearly in the beginning that I do not have time for relationship feelings or focusing on them, and it’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that I don’t have time to sit on the couch and stare at you all the time like a fucking velvet underground moment so back off me I’m busy type shit! If I was a dude I would be just left alone to smoke my Sean Connery pipe and stroke my beard in the den while I stared in to the NYT and ignored my wife, oh, what a fantasy! Sometimes I look like I am being distant but I’m not, well I am, but really, it’s just me working, writing. It has to be done! These are how most fights start to which I have previously stated, I am not doing anymore. Difficult? Fine I’ll leave, no but that would be heartbreaking. I asked if he would feel more lost with or without me and he said it was the latter and then felt like shit all day long yesterday. I don’t have time for this I am planning for two shows, managing other dramas, taking dramas, I have ENOUGH thank you. I see everything that he is doing and I have done exactly the same in the past, you’re just more coveted when you’re busy, God I get snarky fucking emails daily from my closest truest of friends and spats on facebook chat cos whatever their mini crisis is obviously supersedes the importance of my shit, which is obviously so busy and manageable and perfect and not at all hard gruelling work and all I want to do is watch big brother uk.

My phone dings incessantly now, and especially today. I can’t manage my career by myself anymore I need help, a budget, money, ugh. I can’t manage a career and a relationship if the relationship is causing stress then I remove the source of stress in my life and no we are not breaking up it just gets intense, it gets to the point where it drives him crazy and I am tired of being painted like a monster. He is dating two people, me and my blog and you guys. Everyone asks how he is managing, or manages. I said on our first date I was famous, he laughed at me, I said I was smarter than him too because we were engaged in a pissing contest and I got him to agree, that is how I am zen master in fighting and why raymi the minx is a notorious flame war vigilante because I cannot back down or ever be wrong, yes, it is relentless but I am definitely, without a doubt, the greatest thinker of your time. Say what you want about me and think I am this or that but I am an enjoyable read, a must read, addictive blabbity blah when this week is over I am finishing my book.

My mom doesn’t like it when I go all arrogant on my blog thing here and I said last week I rarely toot my own horn, I don’t get a chance to cos every time you get a step ahead that’s three steps back’s worth of trashed on by “the people”. I have to be bigger than life otherwise no one would care. It’s not narcissism, well, maybe I am a professional narcissist. De-construct celebrity, and put it on a blog, your blog. Don’t be surprised when it works.

He likes this one but I don’t see it.

I think once every blog post seems like it is selling something the dream is lost.

This is ironic because I want this restaurant to give me an unlimited open bar for life (we’ll tip half of it every time to our server) because I am making it our new regular and I have a habit of making shit popular, I know the value of my influence, or power rather and guess what before today you didn’t realize your weird belly shirt looked good on you. I am always selling shit without trying, it’s a skill and a plague.

I wanted to talk about Amy Winehouse but instead this turned into all about me (Raymi Winehouse) big surprise, like her death being alcohol-related. I didn’t want to talk about it right beneath this picture of me holding my favourite drink but I guess it is pertinent albeit obvious. I hate gimmicks. Blaha says the platinum haired girl.

When I was 20 I had a breakdown, I was an advanced youth and did a lot of things very young. I saw the World Trade Center collapse with my very own eyes at 18, I made Sex TV and The National Post at 19, the circus frenzy of my blog that is happening now happened to me at 19 and I snapped under the pressure, I was not managing my life properly at all, I was doing drugs and partying and I felt like I was part of and making a movement and I was also in an extremely extremely abusive relationship with a dealer, yeah, I pretty much took life by the balls and squeezed until I went legitimately insane.

And so after a breakdown you pick up the pieces that fell out of your head, largely your heart. I had lost Raymi this girl that my entire hopes and future dreams were resting on the shoulders of. I went to drug and alcohol rehabilitation meetings despite being many months sober and having no desire, triggers, (haha lush group terminology) or money, I lost it all, and my friends too, the party was over.

I did not belong in these meetings and I think I made everyone uncomfortable because they were legitimate ex-junkies, drunks, in their 40’s and up, I was 20 years old and like totally there ironically it seemed, in my Gallaz skate shoes, arms crossed, I never said a word. My spirit was broken from depression, I was Prozac Nation-incarnate (rent it or youtube a clip, the book by Elizabeth Wurtzel) and the point of this group was to graduate to this class (where it got more labour-intensive zzzz) which I was denied access to and that was the best fucking day of my life and proof to my psychotic mother that SEE I was FINE now back the hell off. My dad said to me in hindsight, those groups were a dumb idea. I remember the talk on the phone with the lady, picture me, 20 years old totally coherent being turned down for a drug and alcohol class that was like 3 times a week. Am I supposed to act sad here? My mom was just trying to find something for me to do and I had overstayed my welcome at my brother and girlfriend’s house, which was actually MY house too so imagine how lazy, slothenly, and self-entitled it degenerated in to. Behind my back they called me RELAXO based on one of the dudes in the lottery super seven commercials and speaking of, I watched so much television I started buying super 7’s and then the night before the draw would lie in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking tomorrow would be my lucky day. Yeah, I’d kick that the fuck out of a drug and alcy class too for sure.

But there is one thing that I actually learned and never ever forgot and it is exactly the reason why Amy Winehouse died, or how rather. We sat through all these boring videos but I actually loved them because we could sit in the dark and I could think about my boyfriend in Los Angeles who had no doubt moved on because Raymi was dead now remember? They turned the lights out and I wouldn’t have to be nervous about having to speak up anymore and the movies ate up class time.

There was one particular video where a dude explained the life of a lush who drank and drank but then became sober again and then after many years of sobriety he fell off the wagon again (all these lush sayings, enabling in a sense) and died. It was because he drank like he used to, the mind does not forget to the degree it thinks it can take the booze, cos like Amy no doubt drank like a powerhouse so when she took it up again figured she could still drink like a champ, sorry girl, not the case. So, it was an accident, but deliberate, based on ignorance. To clarify, you sober up for years then you go on a bender one night out of the blue that turns into black out drinking picking up beers at a bodego or whatever, YOU WILL DIE. Cleaning up at all from years of toxic abuse is second chance enough, in alcoholand (Like Duff Gardens) you rarely get second chances. So they used the image of a dude on a bench kind of funny cartoon drawing with shitty powerpoint technology of him flopping over dead off the bench. I was lobotomized, it had no effect on me but I stored it away in my long term memory department for a rainy day cos I knew it was important to know.

You have to graduate to being that level of drunk again but with stubborn drunks, one is never enough, functioning alcoholics are belligerent and, well, drunk.

So now when I drink I think I’m going to die all the time. No I don’t drink to that degree but I’ve had my moments it feels, even a little can affect me, I also see how my friends behave, I don’t miss much. I don’t understand why the detail about the vodka bottles everywhere only came out now with the final death analysis? Like their hands are in their pockets and they’re scuffling stones around and go, ok, ok fine, it was alcohol. Well NO SHIT!

I’m related to a famous dead drunk, I write and behave like one, my lifestyle is ridiculous and luckily vanity requires abstinence to maintain beauty so in a way you can say narcissism has saved my life. I am glad I escaped the 27 club jinx, I’m not superstitious but I made one self-fulfilling prophecy occur once in my life and 365 days is a really long opportunity to do something stupid when you play with fire daily and already live like you are going to die tomorrow. The point of this is I can relax now cos if I die it won’t be special enough now that I am 28. When I was in the hospital my mom was told to start mourning my death, or in therapy I can’t remember where she learned such a defeatist thing but there you have it the story of the family touched by addiction, everyone suffers. I am happy that I won my battle though we’re not out of the woods yet.

I wrote this post to kick it old school Raymi. It’s good to be back.

SEE YOU TONIGHT AT 99 Sudbury 8PM I’ll be checking you in.

xo

Shit like his party is the very reason I do what I do. Andy Milonakis is one of my idols, I am going to be a hot mess. Come watch!