Hey peeps. I wrote this in April for Playboy, we then decided to take a V SPOT direction but I still had this kick ass advice feature and just as I’m about to embark on another life journey adventure plus am in the throes of packing travel anxiety at the mo, why not share it with you now? Not that you need my advice but it couldn’t hurt. As a writer, not everything makes it or is used I’m sure plenty of you writers out there know that too. Enjoy!

People go away to meet new people because they’re sick of where they’re from and everyone there.

Have you seen 1997’s Addicted to Love? In it, Tchéky Karyo’s character Anton is a French restauranteur from Paris with a swanky eatery in NYC that’s flourishing because he’s from somewhere else – a key component in many a successful venture as there are many French guys to go around in Paris. You must leave and spread your seed elsewhere for people to appreciate it. Less competition in other words, you stand out more. You must go away, in some instances, to get play.

On vacation people get to be the best versions of themself. Your mood is like a pheromone drifting on the salty ocean breeze, you don’t even know the power of your allure. One must tread cautiously on vacay because there are love bugs at every juncture if you’re that kind of romantic, crazy sort. If you’ve been single for awhile, or abstaining, and lacking of affection for many months. Warning: your guard WILL be down. (and also up) You will fall in love! You might fall in a hole too. I did! Seriously it was something like 50 first dates and I lisp like Barrymore after a few drinks too.

The harder to get you are, the more they wanna get you. If a typically monogamous gal when out with the gals and being respectful of whatever bloke you’re with it’s like a halo of fuck off to trouble in the shadows, those lurking devils. They study you. People are so revealing without even knowing it. Your eyes, a subtle flick invite on the world. The heart wants what it wants and on vacation it’s like spring fever times a trillion. I spent all winter long pouring vodka on my dormant libido. A milestone birthday on the horizon, a plan to travel elsewhere after Aruba that plan now dashed to pieces because of my Caribbean holiday. The way to fall in love is to not fall in love. To be selfish and greedy. To say yes.

It’s super easy to hook up while abroad but the quality levels vary. Upon entering any club, do the inaugural gauntlet walkthrough and I promise you’ll have at least one super fan or two by the time you finish. Before heading out be sure to say a prayer to the beer goggles gods because they are never as good looking as you think which really doesn’t matter until you see the digi-pics of shame later on which is always fucking hilarious but again it depends what you want out of this fling or flight. The fantasy smashed illusion of post-vacation mini-flings are the worst so be careful about falling for your vacationing beer guzzling Lothario, “an unscrupulous seducer of women”.

When you meet in real life by chance it makes things ultra spicy in that this window is closing fashion, and I don’t have to care about you or where this is going because we know it’s going to end but what if it doesn’t? It’s a free world more or less and you could move anywhere you can weigh the options. You feel like you will never meet someone like this ever again because you know now what unique is and how come this stranger likes all the things you hate about yourself? Why do people take you for granted back home but love you abroad? Are we deceiving strangers, playing an I’m sexy role? Whatever it is, I say own it and when you get home be like that’s right, maybe y’all shoulda been nicer to me.

On vacation you let your hair down and all the unattractive things about you vanish, specifically stress. It makes you ugly. You wear less makeup, your skin shines, your hair is crazy insane from the heat, you adopt a don’t give a fuck constitution and it brings all the boys to the yard who are already there pissing in it.

I am a realist who keeps it real. I do stupid sh!t in the name of love. I am a f- up artist and men love it. Many men tell me I am smarter than they are. It’s not just me who can minx abroad though, you all have it in you. Think about how many times at home you say “no”. Do you want to be a no person forever? Also at home there are less opportunities it seems to even say yes so I’m not exactly advising rash stupidity I’m “just saying” do a personal experience overhaul and be the fun girl for once. I know it’s hard to turn off your brain and pointless Canadian self-guilt sensors in the mix of it but YOU GOT TO.

Do go off with a stranger, but keep it in the safer touristy areas where there’s lots of witnesses and if this guy (or gal) are as stand-up as they are proclaiming to be make them take you out sightseeing the next day first so they can earn it and you can have a clearer head about the whole idea. But if you just wanna f-ck ‘n chuck then make sure they can at least stand up cos their lil captain later on in the room/behind a palm tree, will not. Ask them a billion times where they’re staying (I have memory problems) and if they say they came with a crew of dudes they become less sexier and that helps you realise you do not actually want to do this guy. Seriously you think you’re the first girl he’s had this are we gonna bone chat with? Do you know how gross four dudes to a hotel room is? Ultra.

It’s not always about sex even though that’s the end result and probably partial meaning to life other than love. Plus money. The question is what do you value most? Pensioners who wait until they are retired to start vacationing, what’s the point when you can’t f-ing walk or party anymore? Seize the day. Do things while you’re young before set in your ways, see the world and fall in love once in a while. If it ends in disaster you can do it again. Take a chance. Give yourself that courtesy and never be afraid of yourself or capabilities and for god sake be street smart.

From travel you learn that globally, people are all after the same thing and you can hit it with any one of them but first you just gotta meet. Pickins’ ain’t slim out there either so don’t bring sand to the beach bro, your opposite sex bestie is going to cramp your style in no time or worse, pick up before you and you’ll be bitter. To know who we are we must leave where we’re from and I now know I’m a treasure built for pleasure, so why not go with it.

By the way, most of these guidelines are for if you meet another fellow traveler. If you meet a local of your destination you are definitely going to break their heart and that power can be intoxicating so go easy and don’t string them along too much. Don’t beat yourself up too much about it if they get out of line though because sun seekers like you arrive via turnstile and there is always another you. Being trapped in paradise is an actual thing. These smooth criminals know what to say to sell us on all things Caribbean so know at which junctures to turn on and off your brain, and heart. Enjoy the ride and remember no glove no love lol xoxo Raymi Bunny.

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Today I had the dentist again, blood work, x-ray, banking, brunch with mom, now I have to edit my insaniac farticle then get ready for dinner with colleague for a mystery resto that’s really hot right meow, hipster caj. Dressing for mysteries, so, mysterious. Tomorrow I have the dentist again early morning for the other half of my face and my face is still frozen right now too so eating will be a trip. Holy crap. Later.

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Thought he was dead. First dip in our pool and noticed this guy in the drain, ewwwwww dead lizard cooties. He was just chilling from the sun but appeared waterlogged (bloated) and white skinned.

Then he got out of the drain on his own and was floating like a frozen statue by the waterfall, pretty peculiar activity so he must be sick. ps. nice tats.

He didn’t blink at all, like at all, or move so we thought he was dead also it looked really uncomfortable in there and the continuous flow of water draining through and siphoning right back in disgusted me like what’s the point of this pool if dead iguana bacteria is in it. I got over it quick knowing there are so many new foreign bacterias I am being exposed to in Aruba, I try not to be too hyper-germophobic when away cos it can get out of hand how bad can dead lizard in my mouth really be? ahaha trying not to think about it.

Shoulda seen what it looked like from the pool vantage point but I didn’t want to be a moron and bring my phone in there. Can you imagine if it dead lizard floated out of there at me aghhh. We let it go through the fence I hope he’s okay now okay thanks bye later gators.

Come quick there’s a non-paying guest trespassing!

TGIFBREAF!

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Hi friends. Where to begin. Maybe in the middle. What is blogging? Fuck I feel so far removed from the whole damn thing but ever so addicted still, I think it’s fine to give it a rest every so often and self-reflect and by self-reflect I mean party your fucking brains out in the tropics for a couple weeks. I’m writing about it for Playboy Energy CA, actually, and should be doing that right now (bad bad Raymi Bunny girl) BUT I am super depressed about being home so I need to barf up some thoughts here first before accepting reality that I am home in the cold and the boring. No offense but I hated who I was before I left. My brain feels like it went through an electric cleansing screen. Cutting myself off from the toxicity of hyper-connected North America was the best thing ever. Falling in love, too. I mean I didn’t want to but it happened. I fought it. I fight off love and feelings because that shit is cray intense and scary and I’ve left a slew of it before in my wake and I’ve become hardened and independent. I think I gave up looking, quietly confident it will come to me on its own again I am damn done searching, I lazy bitch!

I’ll save the details for another time I’ll just say that I initiated none of this! AHha. It’s like a Tropic of Cancer biopic of insanity actually, to travel all the way to a tiny island and meet someone who has done the same from another side of the world who is like totally the exact same person as you, fate maybe? You don’t see it at first, then you fall in a hole in the ocean and he blows the rest of his travel plans to stay with you. Unbelievable.

Chemistry. The chemical reaction one feels in their body. The knowing. At first it’s a game maybe, fun. Then the green light. We went sight seeing together when it happened and I was like okay well I guess now I will have to have sex with him seeing as I blew his last night in Aruba. I was actually running from him in the ocean after a sick solid five minutes of a sand fight as dinner guests on the beach watched us and the sunset. Compatible shit like that.

Wanting to forget the world together and take it on. Writing lovey babble such as this, freaking out about it, being terrified, knowing you don’t live forever and only once. Minxing each other copmpletely. What is this? he asked. What is what? This. This us. What is this, us? I don’t know, it’s something? We speak in rhymes and riddle because there is a language barrier, it makes things eloquent, bizarre and insane. I love it. I always said I hated accents, the euro-y ones but maybe that’s because I had a thing for them because they scare me, beguile me. Foreignness. I din’t like foreign things, or I do. Am I secretly racist?

Also who stays? Who does that? And for me? What? Why? Alright I’ll stop blathering about that for now and do the real deal travel caption/synopsis report. Those aren’t underwear they’re hiked-up control bathing suit bottoms and that’s my dirtiest sock in the world how, loveable? We sang that it was the dirties sock in the world a la Rihanna, of course. We drove in to a gated community to sight see. We hustled everyone we met. He speaks the language, he speaks four actually, and I’m a half naked white chick so we did whatever we wanted. Lethal combo. People fall in love with crazy people, people who don’t care or try.

This was the gangsterest house in the naybe.

My birthday was delayed by injury, we celebrated it days and days later. Mom’s dress looked like mine.

The last hotel on the right with the green part is the Westin where I stayed last July.

Flinstoner abode behind me was our villa. We moved there from the coconut inn (s-hole) (but we dug it) I can’t remember when. This pool was private for us until our last morning (boo) and we had a great time getting wasted and tanning by it pretty much naked the entire time. You get comfortable in your skin real quick in that heat. I lost 10 pounds. I was bummed I couldn’t run on the beach like I had planned to but all the hopping around I did before I could drag limp my left foot around got me in shape too, up and down stairs, so exhausting. I banged it a lot too and I’m sure drinking on it didn’t help the swelling but I was on vacation so, whatevs.

I miss so much and I hate being back but “I will deal” people who say they don’t mind being back are liars.

My tanning was put back too thanks to staying in and I didn’t go out to any night clubs or after hours or any of that bad girl which is fine I suppose. The night we met (before injury) we were at the same night club but didn’t meet there. More on that later. I was so upset about the injury in the beginning but then it brought us closer together and maybe he would have left if it didn’t happen, I insist minx magic would have happened on its own regardless of it but he disagrees. We’ll never know but now I know that playing the “what if” game in life is futile and only time will tell.

If I had landed the gig for the audition I had before I left I would never have gone to Aruba due to the schedule conflict. It was for a rat rod show to boot. Filming in Vegas.

Life is full of surprises.

One of the songs that was on the radio all the time. Lots of Rihanna too.

We should have drank at the bar.

On way to Baby Beach we chased a firetruck to this fire. Not the typical tourist experience this trip, very me.

The shooting we overheard was done by a small gun, three pops, and they caught the guy. Rattled us a bit at our ghett-hole accomodation so we hustled a free night and that’s why we changed places, my injury made me more alert. When you can’t run away from danger it puts things in perspective, like should I learn how to box while sitting down? The time spent sitting in the car before hopping up all those stairs and there’s no back wall to the compound where the shooting happened? Yeah, you better get your ass in the room quick. These stories don’t get reported in the come to Aruba tourist papes but we found a tabloid for locals also scanned twitter. Always hit up twitter.

It’s so hot there I marveled that there weren’t more fires.

Drinking Balashi while driving around doesn’t exactly mix astutely well with the Polis so we didn’t stick around for too long. #OhRaymi.

On our last day we had empanadas again, loved them. Fresh made by a Colombian woman, totally looked like the epitome of someone who has been making empanadas their entire life. We wanted to recreate the en route to baby beach experience we had the week before, when I was still hopping. He figured out the island in less than a day it was pretty easy to tool around and impossible to get lost with someone like that. A total crazy man.

Beef. They give you a cup of garlic sauce and hot pica too I’d come back more of a rake if I didn’t eat these but whatever, when in Aruba. I’m cool with my body now. Someone else being cool about it also helps.

Hurt the other side of my ankle on the same injured foot climbing and posing on this #idiot. Worth it.

This kid ruled.

A dude at BK when I went for a piss thought I was actually a lifeguard at the Y from around the corner, whoops! I had lifeguard shorts on too. Three girls behind the cash stared at me like I was a hallucination. I learned how unique I truly am in Aruba that’s why I like it.

Yes I am a lifeguard who is wasted and injured I couldn’t even save a breath.

Overwhelmed by all my photos. On his camera we took over 4500. My phone is almost maxed out of space itself. Took plenty of videos too. And then there’s Tray Cray’s. Jesus.

This part of the island looks like Mars aka AWESOME. The oil refinery really sets it off. The jail is there too.

Last night’s dinner our favourite meat buffet Texas de Brazil. They remembered me/us and were happy to see I could walk, very amazing place. We ate a lot of meat and were zombies for the rest of the night. Why are there so many delicious animals to eat! In denial it was our last night together, we kicked the elephant in the face all week long what happens when we wake up.

Love sick is the worst. It’s the best diet though. They said next year when we come back we’ll have a baby ahahaha.

Tourist scouting and critiquing here is the best.

Mom noticed how crazy he was first, my kind of cray so she deserves credit for that. We were both obliterated when we met and within minutes he was dipping and kissing me, the chemistry was ballistic. You pretty much never see people again on holiday, I dunno, I gave up on love. I’ll save it for Playboy.

And those girls, boy did they have a time themselves. It was like two separate vacations Lois said often. No one expected this. Always expect the unexpected.

Bahaha total assholes. The very best and fuck the rest.

See I told you it was like a Jamaican flag dress.

Okay gotta go. Later dushis (sweethearts) -Raymi Aruba.

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Tan time check ya laters.

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And all ze cares go bye bye. Ze u zoon.

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Was feeling archival and nostalgic sometime this week and what with the crap weather I really dig my vacay shots, there are scores of them. Why not share some? Luckily in Aruba no one knows anything about Toronto so I could wear that hat freely. I can wear it in Borington too when I go running. Funny how my Playboy hat is the one I’m fearful to run in out here, that’s a call for way too much attention. Maybe I should get over myself?

Yeah no not crappening.

First day sunset.

Was pretty zonkedhausted and delirious as a result by that point. At dinner I knocked my wine glass over the linen table out on our private VIPLEASE dining terrace. It was pretty windy and I was being pretty expressive in my hand gestures, tired and looped. Aren’t Raymcations exciting?

Too bad I can’t wear hot pink sunglasses in the winter time. Too bad I can, but only at night in a night club. Funny how that works.

Baha I look almost nakes.

My girl junk.

MY VIEW.

My A Game.

My Dubai view. Oh man Lois how much does this make us want to go back. The Westin will hook it up thanks to my New York Times hat trick. #Howtoholdbrandsandestablishmentsemotionallyhostage.

En route from airport I was thinking how ghetto is this island exactly? On the outer-skirts of Aruba in the bush it’s pretty desolate, nice to visit only kind of thing. This would be like the Mississauga/Etobicoke surrounding area of the airport. Where we stayed I learned is considered the high-rise hotel, more luxurious area. Tourists with money to burn. Luckily we know Victor who just bought more properties and is having them furnished presently.

Oh, Kony. Remember that?

It was blazing hot. I was sweltering in my airplane outfit. The girls were freezing on the flight over we all had to sleep huddle cuddle together in our row.

The window tint made it this way. It was actually tropical paradise sunny blue crystal diamond sky out.

Came across more Black Keys pics as well.

I was extremely proud of my outfit and my nail job.

I am the Pee Wee Herman of girls. Anja and I had a reunion yesterday and she was all yeah you so ARE your own show. More on her later. HBD!!! So many November birthdays. Tomorrow is LoLo.

Black Keys vortex.

Back to Aruba now what le f?

Hung out with this chick one night.

Love my hair colour here.

Our last supper.

Lol geek.

Grey Goose and OJ hey, hey, hey. Happy hour is far away.

For some reason these seem to have disappeared from my last post. Ghost in the blog? WTF.

Like so many are missing wtf? ugh dealing with it later. Happy Sunday! Remembrance Day holla.

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