today is going to be epic. friday too will be epic. i’mma tell you all about it tomorrow. basically get ready for a blackout drunkening and don’t expect to make any good use of what saturday’s gorgeous weather is going to have in store. your call though, miss a great night, or miss a great day? as if more fabulous weather isn’t on its way. it’s going to be a wicked summer.
my cousin leigh is going off to bali and china and she may not return. i was talkin’ to her ex who showed with a massive gash (from the nite before or before that?) on the bridge of his nose i was all like here man have a whiskey this is brutal, there’s your girl, my cousin, ugh awkward. anyway i was like what happened? someone was talkin’ shit, essentially, my memory is foggy and he capped it off with the quote of the evening, “i like to keep it scarborough, what can i say?” and thanks to sofi i learned that jane and finch is so not scarborough. I KNOW MY SHIT! leigh says i am doin’ the family proud what with my writing and other things, it was sweet to hear.
pretending to slave drive. oh clem, as if i listen to you.
this is how i look hung. obvious? don’t answer that.
start practicing your dirty dancing to this one. just tryin’ta gear you up!
cool pose! that thing fits way better now, it got shrunk. a size zero and no fucking way it’d fit ever again though, i likely wouldn’t have shrunk it then eh.
should i bring my laptop and blog from the hotel throughout tonite’s pisstankening?
the craziest rudest shit happened to me today. i’ll share the story another time though don’t want my spirits to be harshed i is be gwan’in rasta me k’yant be talkin’ nyaw popa-tranzin’ hahaha sorry there, sorry.
this room, when all the light goes through it i can actually feel the endorphins flood throughout my body and serotonin release in my brain, it is amazing, as a depressed person to actually notice it. i clomp up the stairs thinking about all the shit i have to do, open up the doors and then it all melts away ahhh.
and it stays like that for hours. purely a sunroom. every time melodie comes to hang in my opium den she sighs and says i’m so lucky and that she’s jealous. aw. the sunroom at cedar grove gave me vitamin D highs like nothing other as well, constant good feeling in this room is what i’m saying. the bed is so comfortable i think i’m getting rickets.
jesus seriously wept when i tried this on. puma wraps my tits in the most spry of ways i think asthma got cured for a second there.
off the shoulders is how this’ll be worn.
an unrelated quote from a chat i just had, spake by me of course: i go for crushingly devastatingly handsome types because i know it will end in fucking flames, knowing that it can and only will be temporary is a thrilling sadness.
tomorrow (today) i am off to the border. may hit a strip bar. casino. hotel. maybe i’ll pull out my tooth and wake up with a tiger in the bathroom.
met halfway at jack astors by bloor/yonge. my old stomping grounds. tattoo culture is by pape station so i was all uuuh where can we go, what the fuck is at bloor yonge? short term city memory for sure. this is the beached drink. nice. ryan the bartender tried to jack it up for me (hard sneaky up-sell, didn’t fall for it) and oh fuck yeah J. astors is for wieners but what can you do when you’re in a rush? the pepsi of the bar & food industry, that’d be the one.
puh-retty goddamn true.
pretend to be tourists. always.
toldja the sound academy would come through. another d-bag moment, oh ho, so humble now, what, you mean everyone’s name doesn’t get printed on drink tickets?
later on my man brought 8 more replete with raymbo personalization. good to go.
who we here for again? oh yes, spoon. opening guys were the strangeboys (fun dance tunes!) then deerhunter (who knew? not me. very british invasion them guys) then spoon. i’m liking live music again and guess who’s to thank, the central. i love dancing and i love good times. overdid it in the live music department for a good two or so years there, can’t tell one band from the next and the last but more so, just yeah, not feeling toronto crowds or i was just goin’ with the wrong people. sorry friends don’t take it to heart. if you’re rollin’ with me it’s gonna be a shit show (blast) and you had better be dancing so you best be checking your insecurity with your coat cos no one else is gonna be (dancing) til the encore rolls around.
so we did the math, based on the vip show hook up plus drank tickets plus cab fare had we not not been set up last nite would have been a dickload pricier but it was so solid, therefore, who cares? we had a time is what. both pleasantly surprised. probably had the best time out of everyone there and likely the most ignorant of all acts doin’ their thang up there on stage. i think they call that irony. i think music, bands, everything is at such a boiling point right now it’s like EVERYTHING is good therefore NOTHING is good, too much choice and selection. it really doesn’t matter who you’re seeing or where you’re going, you’re going out to have a good time, and then you have one. case closed. everyone delivers.
spotlight on those guys.
i hated my outfit last nite. i forgot to wash my shorts, well, attempt to shrink them so they were just way too bulky with my teensers waist and shirt there i had to do a lot of hands on hips posing to let everyone know how fuckin’ lanky i actually am.
these were the tights i was too insecure to wear to the harlettes audition because of one barely audible run. well, audible cos it was stand alone stand out and so decided to alter my look. it changed over the course of the evening.
unwrapped perhaps a little prematurely but i got too in my head about dancing with a blue bandage on.
the strangeboys brought it.
the real show’s over here.
here too. once my face finally goes to shit, look out p0rn.
mugger.
i want to hug you. lets never fall out again, promise?
see this is why i hated my outfit, everything is the wrong size compiled.
dear penthouse…
i was essentially trashed all day. up down all around. tattoo nerves sedation, over-tired, hung, over-worked, over-played.
wow. what an unbelievably original and unique pose.
why doesn’t anyone hang out over there? can i next time?
guy who “wasn’t hitting on me” apparently is throwing a party in a couple weeks where crystal castles are playing. then he got kicked out for being too slaughtered.
slootsky slapped my tattoo. if i get infected brah…
take more photos!
zach looks like an ex boyfriend of mine who i f-ing hate so it’s kinda hard to look at him. i still gave him some drink tickets cos i am super nice (was loaded enough) like that. send me those pics guy.
back upstairs.
spoon. amazing. and deerhunter were sooo good but spoon you took it for sure. by a hair. very close tie. spoon had a radiohead thing going strong. each band was perfect to be shitty by. had a lot of fun and i rarely bother to mention these things about shows or anything period i’m too busy scowling at everyone who isn’t dancing and thinking about when we get to finally fucking leave. not no more!
holy fuck. haha that’s what i feel like when i sit at a computer ALL THIS CREATION POSSIBILITY IT’S SO ENDLESSSSS
jeeesus.
off to the beav for erykah badu album party and a costume change.
dutty had to point out what his shirt was actually of. chick thighs ass poon.
gonged.
good news there’s a zit on the end of my nose too. have yourself a rice krispie square from the beaver they have nuts and sunflower seeds in them. chase it with a cookie. dance like a de-railed locomotive.
wheeeeeee yeah! baby did it! i’m officially a burlesque dancer now with the Harlettes. P-U-M-P-E-D! it’s not gonna be easy though and these chicks are serious and committed. my feet are destroyed and my torso is totally sore but nicely stretched, need to get more limber not just uselessly thin. rehearsed for four hours today then i went to work at four til 1am gaaaaaaad. i have so much to gush about but right now i gotta crash cos i have a tattoo appointment tomorrow and i’ve been going going going all day all weekend all week. i am already overwhelmed by this upcoming week and it hasn’t even begun yet. madness, absolutely but shit you gotta be doin’ your tings eh? i need help coming up with a burlesque name, it can’t be french. needs to be sassy clever play on words cutesy. raymi the minx is oooooooold. when i was an “online model” my stage name was nikola (eurotrash is hot for northern america and over there, our boring nothing names like lauren or sarah are tooootally trampy to them. funny huh?) but yeah, hmm. sexy, coy, flirty, whatever. put your suggestion in the comments just to get the ball rolling if you’re game i’d really appreciate it.
i am so happy to be dancing again it has been my dream for far too long now to get back in action there also, i would like to thank my parents for putting me in jazz classes to begin with. thanks guys!
i have to go to malabar and buy some spanish dancing shoes with heels and i’ll be needing to make my own costumes too. craft explosion!
i’d be lying if i said life wasn’t good right now. i don’t care how tired, knackered, overdoing everything i am. i am happy. probably insane, but whatever, things are interesting again. did i mention that i was happy? (don’t worry i’ll be sad some time soon just for you).
love camping it up. alyssa and i are bad girls in this one number we’re working on. kinda like the pink ladies but cooler. i have to learn everyone’s names again and their stage names.
and to think i was worried over the teeniest run in my brand new black tights that i didn’t end up wearing cos i was so anal/nervous. these runs rips and tears look so good. in jazz class they never let us have rips in our wienery soft pink tights. laaaame and once you made it to grade 3 (takes two years to complete a grade) you were allowed to wear black. dance is kinda like karate in that way, you have to earn colours for status. hah.
rehearsals are every sunday at noon in the dopest space ever.
looking around at these awesome women today i thought to myself wow, i’m so inspired right now and these people are going to have an impact on me in a good way i know it. cheesy sorry but that’s how i felt. burlesque is a lifestyle i was told. damn straight sign me up. done.
i was told by this dope ass chick stacey that i look like tracy lordes. ha.
hmm. i’ll take that compliment. also, so feeling that eye-makeup. will copy.
at an after hours this fly black guy proclaimed to me that i was the blondest girl he had ever seen. astounded. i was also kinda dressed like a ski bunny (costume change) and he was a cross between fritzhelder, curtis santiago and someone else i can’t place. in fact i thought it was curtis. then the tiniest chick ever came up all coy and asked if my hair was real. i let her tug on it. then i got the eff out of there.
chelsea is the shit.
ok loners i’m off to the land of fishnets and leotards. wish me luck.
then i’m working so come on by and say hi if you’re miserable on this here loneliest day of the week.
and now it’s gone, my ganglion friend. i will not miss you. sniff.
look at the little man-eater and proud mother looking up at her. aw. britt’s depression over 25 totally floors me. she once said i was inspiring or something cos i’m fine with my age and i don’t act it, what? how was that a compliment again? it sort of was. either way, i enjoy GEN-Y’s lamenting their 20’s leaving them as, ahem, i typically have shadowed some person’s in the older than me category since i was a smug teenager and not a one will let you feel sorry for yourself for ten fucking seconds. like, just because you are cruisin’ mid to late thirties (or, and then some) doesn’t mean i’m not allowed to feel shitty for a little while here. you’re you and i’m me. so, cry away britt, the older you get the better you are, the more shit becomes clear and you have ample time ahead to fuck it all up two times over and still come out alright on the other side. basically, the sadder you are, the more i am smiling, not that i am enjoying your emo but, well, i understand and it simply just amuses me to be so angry about something like “aging” jesus, holy lead-in.
bohmer is a great spot, a couple private back rooms for your gang if you want it. that’s darrin pfeiffer (remember goldfinger? their drummer. ROCK ROYALTY!) hoggin’ up the view of that lit-up tapestry you’ll see more of his mug to come as well as photos of many others you don’t know or give a shit about.
so hot right now.
i swear to GOD any one of the men in my life if you go to bohmer without me (because of me) you are dead to me. D-E-A-D. don’t think i won’t find out about it either. fatal attraction much ha.
oh, but of course.
barry‘s shot was much more crisp but whatevs already posted it.
classic photographer oh no no please oh no no not me pose. GAY! GET OVER IT!
the menu looks like a letter from the principal or someone. bohmer’s signature is at the top right corner. it would be cool if i was being paid for this post hey?
darrin mocking my shit.
and i’m pretty certain you all remember this skinny guy.
brosz7 i would like to discuss your thoughts on lost this week please thank you. also i can’t believe there isn’t ONE picture of me on your website. thumbs down, waaay down.
oh brad such a spaz. is it the newf blood? ps. come by the central to meet aaron our resident newftender.
apparently britt’s mum reads my blog. i was all worried about putting the F word on britt’s envelope, i x’d it out as you’ll see in a minute, then she pulls that little piece of info out on me so we’re all good here FUCK FUCK FUCCCCCCCK HI!
i spy with my little eye something that is WENDI! and cam carpenter!
oh i forgot to show you guys what my bathroom looks like.
sigh. design.
no words.
got the gin fizz something or other (cheapest drink, 6.50 i believe).
uggg it’s MY birthday on wednesday. party is on friday april 2nd at, where else, THE CENTRAL. you are all invited. i’m having a big ass blythe cake made! should i make an fb event for this? it’s going to be a massive dance party, well, i know I’LL be dancing my ass off. also, amy tang’s birthday is the same nite at the same place. woooh.
darrin’s special lady friend melanie is so poshin’ it replete with brit accent.
look at me pounding that sucker back. awkward times man plus totally frazzled from whatever the crap i did the nite prior (oh right the blogstars event which had several after parties) on top of being sick on top of bickering with my ex across the table from me hahah. last week was a harsh mistress.
ta-da!
ooh matt take.it.off.
when i read on the road this is exactly what i pictured. i was like oh yes, sign me up for some-a that.
i don’t care for your music opinions buy some fuckin records and shut up already
(love you)
i’m the funny one, you’re the bratty one. DEAL WITH IT.
it was for $40 for you nosy ones. sorta cheap but i figure more appreciated than the magic pony crap i typically unload on everybody. it’s so true people always get you stuff they want for themselves. LOOK i got you an ounce of pot!
didn’t even recognize this bro at first because he wasn’t wearing jogging pants.
this amused me for awhile. BEST WHILE EVER!
here come the party tricks.
what’s darrin doing over there….?
ohh shit hold up darrin. ok here’s a partial truth admission cos i’m pretty honest and forthright, right? when britt and brad got together it kinda got the gearworks goin’ in my head a little bit seeing how affectionate they were (still are!) i was like BINGO that’s what i am missing. not knocking myself or my other past half i think our chemistry was pretty solid and all but publicly you wouldn’t know we were a pair and often got mistaken for siblings (when i was brunette) but yeah as much as everyone gives britt and brad a hard deal over kissing and cuddling (and smothering one another’s lights out) i think it’s wonderful and beautiful. this is how it’s supposed to be. be selfish in your love lifes. do not hide them. be romantic. that’s the shit that keeps relationships alive. so in a small way you guys broke us up. way to go.
every time he’d stack it 4 glasses higher i’d take it down before i could capture it.
and then haitham is all, i got this.
if you can get this 5 out from between these bottles you get to keep it.
sets it up.
this is where your money’s been people.
yes yes good work balancing. as a side note, remember i made a rant about devil horns in photos? since then i’ve had to stick to it and have been for many years, any photos whereby someone is “rocking” the devil horns it goes right in the trash (well lives on my hard drive) because i’m sorry, just, no. however there are little allowances and they are, IRONIC devil horns as well as, i dunno, say you wrestled a bear with your bare hands for your life and you choked it into submission i am preeeetty certain in the photograph your bud takes of you astride that beast it would be permissable to rock a devil horn or two. get me? so darrin, this one gets a pass. BARELY, but still, a pass is a pass.
he sort of got it out, the top bottle still wobbled he had to catch it.
the roast chicken or ferme something whatever. 24 bones. worth it. instead of getting two apps which would essentially total a main, just get the main (but only if you are a cheapskate artist like me and dining on your own dime).
so bourgeois. you only live once.
hair was a little wildly stupid sort of. made more sense in real life and once i started cuttin’ a rug at alicia‘s later on.
broken wrist.
here let me show you.
comparing normal and not normal
yup, definitely not a straight-looking wrist there.
holy crap you are red, cam. or maybe i was just soaking up all the flash because i am a princess dirtbag and i absorb anything bright or shiny. lights were made for me oh and get ready for the guide to dirtbag princessness in my upcoming FORA mag beauty column.
ok well now i’m just showing off. someone sprayed red wine all over the back of that gypsy shirt later that night. AWESOME! i think it was that drunk chick alicia had to kick out of her house hahah.
the bump on the left is the ganglion cyst. two can play at this gross game cam oh my god why why all i say lately is TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME? and last nite i said something really nerdy too i said don’t be a stranger just be strange. BAHAHAHah ughhhhhh give me a break it was at 3 in the friggin’ morning (closing up work).
but now the ganglion is gone. i dunno if it’s from barry’s tantric massage or from slamming it at some point while dancing with jenny.
haha the point. yes that’s where my hand is.
cured! not so. but it felt better.
this post is sucking the life out of me there goes my afternoon. resting up for round two work haul and THEN i have my harlettes audition tomorrow before noon and then have to work another night shift. i’m nervous and excited. kamila coincidentally hooked me up with a black leotard and this cute little black/pink lace flippy cheerleader slut skirt i am so going to wear for it (audition). should i wear a bra?
the outside of bohmer, so gauche i love it not even a sign letting you know its name. it’s like, fuck you here we are, got that?
reminds me of this great japanese joint in williamsburg i went to with jamie a hundred years ago. ossington is so becoming a hybrid of the LES and williamsburg and i’m on board. no more making fun of ossington hipsters and yuppies, i’m a west end girl now. suck it.
make sure you get your photo taken out front. everyone needs some soft lighting up on ‘em.
and you can lock your bike out front for three days and it won’t get jacked.
