Bordeaux Thinks I’m Cool, I Think I’m a Round Peg in a Square Hole.

 

Ladies and gentlemen…

I know, I suck.

I can’t really explain why I haven’t written a blog in two months, maybe longer. There’s something about blog writing, at least the way that I do it, where you kinda have to be in the right groove. I’ve been writing this blog non stop for three years, and I think I just had to step away for a while and keep things to myself.

Ya’ll got too up in ma shit!

No, no you didn’t, I just wanted to type that sentence.

It’s been awhile compadres.

I’ve basically spent the last few months building up my styling business and actually enjoying the creative process. Getting fired and going on EI was, artistically, the best thing that could have happened to me. For the first time in my creative career I have been able to freely create without having a fucking panic attack every other day. I’ve had bills to pay since I was a teenager, and I never had a chance to breathe most times. But now, for 12 months, I can create and stand on solid ground while doing it.

I sometimes feel guilty about the freedom, like I’m cheating somehow. Then again I think about the work I’ve created and pulled off this year, as opposed to last. It’s different, it’s more calculated, it’s the way my work should have always been. Not to say that my work was shit…I mean starting out, yea, I had some shit work here and there.

You need to step in shit first, it makes you pay attention the next time you go for a walk.

Beyond that, I guess I should update you on my woman crew stories. Recently we all went up to Cat’s parents’ place. A place with room to roam to say the least. We were all in fine form, hammered in 90’s PJ sets, attempting to play a game of pool. Cat’s the second of us to be walking down the aisle, so we’ve decided that it calls for many wine-soaked hangouts and Backstreet Boys dance-a-thons.

K-mo said THE whitest thing I’ve ever heard that hasn’t come out of an orange bleach-blonde mid-forties Fresh-‘N-Wild super market customer.

I only went in there once to buy tampons…

They didn’t have tampons.

Right, what K-mo said: “I ALWAYS have leftover kale,” and she said it the way you probably read it in your head. She said it like a debutant having a stroke while explaining the origins of her silverware collection.

…Or an Upper Eastside, Saran Wrap-faced wannabe desperate housewife…your choice.

Lately, my days are spent either in bed watching ridiculous crime dramas or running around sourcing clothing, accessories, set pieces and crafts for upcoming shoots. Or, by the time I get out of bed I’m headed off to meet friends for some antics, bar hopping, and late night hosting. I’m not living a glamorous life, but Im certainly living a good life, no matter how hard it gets sometimes.

It’s really important to let yourself just be every now and then, words straight out of my man’s mouth when I’m freaking out. “Honey, just relax.” Maybe that’s a more accurate statement. I am horrible at self acceptance and validation. I feel like I’m racing against people I’ve only seen in Instagram posts. But I’m starting to realize that putting in time, taking days to just let yourself go, is fucking important.

Sure, I love the spazzed-out, in-the-moment adrenalin of crunch time. It’s something that is both terrifying and exhilarating. There’s a lot of room for mistakes, and you have to pick your time and place to be in that zone. Like when you you fast-talk your way past the doorman at a party you definitely shouldn’t be at. Not the night before a shoot and you’re at Zara maxing out your credit cards for something at 8 a.m. the next morning because of a client request.

There’s something a lot more rewarding in a well planned creative piece, and this last three months have taught me the importance of timeframe and reward.

I never really know if my writing helps anyone else dealing with creative endeavours. I hope I can at least help ease the pain of the I’m-not-trying-hard-enoughs. The last three months I’ve had days where I feel like Im going to get sucked into a greyscale life. I’ll just become a late passenger on a train that’s already left the station. A flamingo at a penguin party. A chain smoker at a health spa. A paper bag princess at the Met Ball. An educated person at a Trump rally. A hamster at a rat race.

Always a round peg in a square hole.

Not that I’d EVER want to fit in or attend a Trump rally, unless I was solely there to spike the food with laxatives and watch everyone shit their pants.

But honestly…

Somedays I look at my work and think, “It’s just not cool enough and nobody knows who I am.” Then I usually drink a bottle of Bordeaux Sauvignon Blanc, smoke a half pack of cigarettes and validate myself to Adele sonnets.

Ya know, lip sync styles.

But in the end I keep going, I keep creating and I keep finding like minded people to join me in my insane ideas to eventually get paid for. And regardless of my doubts I know the kind of life I want, and I know I couldn’t live any other way. I get weird being in bank buildings, let alone any office that has cubicles.

Why do all office buildings/condo lobbies smell like Apple stores?

Anyway I hope you are all de-hibernating and your hibernation was less dreadful than our previous years in Toronto. I feel like we all got out more this winter, and I certainly walked/stumbled home from more bars and parties this year. However, my late night takeout bill has been doubled…

I’ll take this time to apologize to every JUST EAT driver I’ve not answered because I’ve passed out at 3 a.m.

 

Thanks for reading, loves.

 

Tunes

Middle – Dj Snake

The Lumineers – Ophelia

The Sheepdogs – Suddenly

Geographer – This is How We Walk on the Moon

Oh Wonder – Without You

 

 

 

 

Adele the Vagina Siren & The Tale of the Two Universes

 

It’s week 3 of sweet 9 to 5 freedom. I’m currently drinking the rest of a magnum (left-over might I add…don’t judge me) and listening to the new Adele album.

That goddamn emotional rollercoaster siren.

I think she honestly gets off making women cry to her songs over old shit we thought we drank away.

Oh, I’m also at my parents place house sitting.  I’m pretty sure the dutch lesbian couple renting the upstairs apartment think I’m having some sort of meltdown.

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been incredibly inpatient over the last little while.  I can remember so vividly the last time I went freelance and barely made it out financially and mentally.  I don’t want that to repeat again,  I’m doing everything in my power to use the time I have to set myself up to win and not fail this time.

I love what I do and I hate it exhausting me.

It consumes most of my time, even my glorious “wine times” are spent wheeling next moves and plans through my mind.

Sidebar: if someone were to burst into the living room right now they would find a half tipsy 28 year-old with a full, and I mean to the TOP, full glass of wine, spastic typing while swaying in my seat, to Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge.”

Again, Adele you soul melting harpy…

GET OUT OF MY SUPPRESSED EMOTIONS!!!

But seriously never change, wine sales will plummet without your albums. Millions of women wont text their ex after years scaring and confusing the shit out of them.

We need you Adele and we love you.

Anyway; you ever think you are racing against people that don’t exist? What I mean by this, is that moment when you go on Instagram and see some “Inspiring” “Lifestyle” fucking post and go into a spiral of self loathing.

Ya, you do, cause we ALL do nowadays.

Don’t lie. That picture of the dinner table setting on your feed, in wine country, with hot ‘boho’ bakers and their bearded husbands. Made you want to jump off a bridge didn’t it? Ya…right?

Those Gwyneth Paltrow type photos that make you look around at your life and not want to take a photo for a thousand years. Those photos that scream “I’m doing better than you and I’m barely 19.” Those are the photo’s that make you do juice cleanses until you shit your yoga pants. Those are the photo’s that make you do a #sobernovember like it’s confession and all those newsstands you threw up on, have all been forgiven and forgotten.

They are NOT forgotten, because one of your shit friends made a meme about it that now shows up on your google name search.

Thanks 2015.

Having to fuel my business by social media and having a blog for 4 years is something you have to get used to.  Being exposed to social media and studying it while not trying to get sucked in is super hard. It’s a tool that can be great for a small business but it can create a lot of unrealistic expectations.

You are constantly at war with social media while trying to win it over at the same time.

I try and be real on social media but sometimes I wonder about the consequences. I mean, fuck, I stopped writing this blog because I was afraid I’d get fired from my office job for saying too much.

I mean I got fired anyway because I still said too much IN REAL LIFE which is more of an example of my character than anything else.

We all watch people get “trolled” and bashed on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for going too far with an opinion. We sit in our safe places and read safely the backlash of someone’s social stupidity and bask in other friends courage.

But do you ever think the online world is dictating our real life world? People’s persona’s get glorified, people’s lives become intimidating when in other times they would just have an occupation.

Fuck, we sometimes see people’s intimate relationships crumble, rebuild and crumble again on Facebook and just roll our eyes, like it’s some kind of reality show. We see relationship statuses and profile pictures, deleted more times than we see a prime time show get cancelled.  And the people that do that have to live with the fact that everyone was watching online.

And don’t fucking tell me that shit doesn’t carry over in real life, cause it does.  I’ve been victim of it. I’ve actually had relationships end because of social media. Which is why I’m more guarded about it now.

I’ve also been present in too many situations where I have already known the social awkwardness of an acquaintances love life and had to play “dumb,” like I didn’t watch everything unfold and refold online.

It just creates an audience you have to answer to because of your over indulgence and self advertising.

This shit didn’t exist at one point and when it did, it was called poetry and was written in songs, sung in public squares, published in books or written in plays.  It was found years later and spooned over by millions of emotional beings finding correlations to their own love endeavours. Not an hour later, by a bunch of your drunk friends, bringing it up at a games night when there’s a gap in the conversation.

Not that that doesn’t still happen, the poetry/song published part, it does, but guys we are living in a world with two worlds. Yea, all you nerds are “cumming” your pants about dual universes, but we are living in 2 realities. Online and offline. And online is setting the tone for offline these days.

Yea, I look real fucking cool on Instagram but the last week I’ve spent most of my days emailing and crying over life not doing the things I want it to do. Did you hear about that, did you know about that? Of course not, I posted glossy photos of my Styling work instead.

Because I look more put together that way, I look cooler that way and I didn’t want anyone to know I’m just as freaked out as everyone else. I debate going for a run every morning. Sometimes I do, sometimes I get stoned instead. I spend days playing dress up and accomplish nothing. I go out on a Tuesday and spend the rest of the week recovering.

I’m a mess like everyone else sometimes. I just know how to use a photo app and take a great picture with an epic comment about how I’m “winning.”

Sometimes I’m not, sometimes I feel like I’m far from it. I won’t post about that but I’ll sure as hell write about. I’m positive most people feel like they are losing some imaginary race every now and then.

Social media is great but just don’t beat yourself up over someone else’s ability to paint a perfect picture.

I think I’ve ranted enough and I’ve thankfully found a box of champagne in my dad’s garage so I probably should wrap this up.  Take this post lightly please.  I’m not trying to start waves or piss anyone off.  I don’t know everything and I certainly don’t boast about knowing everything. This is an observation from someone who has had one too many hours to think about things.

Thanks for reading!

 

Tunes

Father John Misty – The Night Josh Tillman Came To our Apartment

Adele – Hello

George Ogilvie – Better Man

Villagers – Courage

Tep No – Pacing 

 

 

 

 

The Return of the Well Dressed Woman Child

I know what you’re thinking, where the fuck has this woman been?

Why the hell did she stop writing?
Did she lose her fingers in a bar fight?
Did she take off to join an artist cult in the Nevada Desert?
Did she start prostituting like she always joked about?

Thankfully it was none of these things, although joining an artist cult for the past 6 months would have made for a better intro. In all honesty, I was burnt out and had recently joined the semi corporate world. It was one of those moments where I thought about where I was and really didn’t want to write about it. That should have been a red flag, maybe this wasn’t the best idea if I was so quick to walk away from everything for a pay increase. To have a job that could get me out of debt and give me a little balanced breathing room for awhile.

Unfortunately you can’t really put passion in a closet for too long, it’ll break out, tie you to a chair and hold a gun to your head until you promise it doesn’t have to go back in there.

Passion was behind me pushing to work on any creative project outside my job description. Passion was behind me taking vacation time to work on a campaign as a Stylist. That aggressive loud mouth passion that lives inside me slowly broke free and made it so obviously I wasn’t meant to be an administrative assistant.

At ALL.

It was fucking ADORABLE!

Luckily I’m not an asshole, I try my best and people see that. I really cherry picked my accomplishments and actually got to work on some pretty amazing creative projects. It only happened because I’m so incredibly persistent (stubborn as fuck) and make use of every artistic opportunity (meaning I acted like a desperate housewife at a pool boy convention). That being said I happily waved goodbye to the 9-5 office life, locked and loaded with more experience. Its a fucking wacky time being in the business world, I don’t know how people do it, I mean I understand it but for me I always felt like I was outside looking in.

I felt like I was holding the red stapler in an Office Space dream, until I inevitably burnt down the building.

Metaphorically…

I didn’t literally burn down my old office.
I felt compelled to really make that point clear.

Everything else in my life is still the abnormal hilarity its always been. Im sure you all remember the girls, Kmo, Meghan. Benoit and Cat. Their still ridiculous, we’re still finding Kmo passed out in strange places and we’re still drawing dicks on her while she’s passed out.
Meghan got married, so that was fucking real, oh and drunk…

So…
Very…
Magically…

Drunk.

You can expect more dress up nights to be written as winter is coming. Naturally Canadian women turn into the hibernating bear equivalent. Red wine lipped hermits, although we tend to hermit in groups, more wine available that way. I’m also starting a youtube series that the girls will be making cameo appearances in. I’m going to try and create as much as I can in the next little while. I never really had to try hard to find funny things to write about on this blog, it all just naturally happened.

So welcome back to the story of my life, the ever expansive tale of trial and error.

Come on, you missed me like Oprah misses her dogs, you know she flies them on a private jet?
That shit is insane.

Anyway…

Glad to be back lovelies.

Tunes

The Paper Kites – Electric Indigo

City & Colour – Killing Time

Adele – Hello

The Constantines – Soon Enough

Deerhunter – All The Same

The Night Casey Jane Entered Stage Left and The Symphony Was Drunk.

SMASH…

Enter stage left Ms Casey Jane sauntering into a bar after drinking a reverends wife’s yearly supply of wine. Thats 2 bottles and a magnum if you are wondering.The magnum is only when she holds her yearly Tupperware party with the ladies from her knitting club. Agnes is a REAL lush bag when they get into a biblical debate.We however drank all this before midnight, I even wore heels. Mainly because I wore them all day with no socks and didn’t want to alert the authorities that a dead body had been dumped on Queen West.

Entourage enters stage left consisting of one life partner named Justin Edwards. My incredible gay go getter that makes me feel like I’m fucking queen of the world, I also occasionally buy him brunch.
Its a rule between gay/straight life partners.
He took to the party like a conductor at a symphony and left on a man hunt faster than the road runner did when the coyote was getting too close. He’s also designing my apartment so he’s pretty much the full package and he’s mine you cant have him!

Our love is immaculate.

Anyway, I walked in thinking I would spend my time yelling derogatory slurs at my bar tending roommate. I thought I would sit down next to Meghan and get slapped and told how much she loved me. Hell I thought I would end up hammered in front of my oven cursing at it to make my pizza pockets faster.

And then, as if it was as natural as anything I sat down next to him.

Have you ever forgotten something? Like completely? Then out of the blue someone says something, shows you something or just is something and you wonder how you ever forgot it?

Funny isn’t it.

Over on Berkeley St I’ve become in love with putting my key in the door of my office every morning. Turning on the music, the lights, and now that spring is here opening the door to let the long awaited breeze flow in. The guys play fooseball late afternoon while the girls sit around our lounge area talking about escorts and prostitutes over lunch. We’re an amazing bunch that are creating extremely great work. The prostitute conversation expanded because of a mutual love for Pretty Woman, I mean Richard Gere…
COME ON!
I’d totally allow kissing.

Creative meetings, pitches, hallway conversations, conference calls filled with laughing and ideas. Our office is alive and I couldn’t be happier with where I am in life right now.

The homestead is still filled with the insanities of Casey and Tim trying to adult. We found out we have mice, so thats been fun. I keep naming them and then making a personal relationship with them, only I hate them.

Its hate.

Its a hate relationship.

Fred’s the worst cause he just sits in my kitchen staring at me like a smug fuck head.

The girls and I spent saturday getting day drunk and going to our friend Evely’s birthday party. We met for brunch and after the waitress feared we were getting sober poured us each a glass of wine all the way to the top. We ended up buying a birthday present consisting of a plant named Stuart McDick, a bouquet of Pussy Willows and a 4L box of white wine.

Looking back on it now its not a surprise the three of us ended up in a kiddy park trying to drive pedal cars…

Thats what the warm weather brings around here, well not belligerent females defacing a children’s playground. It just brings out life a little more, it brings people together longer and more intimate. My heart sings a lot louder when the sun hits my face when I crash out of my apartment at the start of the day. Warm weather means later nights in parks, longer sits on patios and backyard get togethers that make me you smile from the inside out. It also reminds me every single day I open my deer in headlight eyes that…

I am one lucky fucking bitch.

Spring is here Toronto.

Thanks for reading loves.

Tunes

Lord Huron – Meet Me In The Woods  My favourite album right now, in the words of my dear Kmo “Its my fucking favourite.”

Andy Shauf – Hometown Hero

Lord Huron – Luisa         Again, My fucking favourite.

Leon Bridges – River

Father John Misty – When You’re Smiling and Astride Me

Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors – American Beauty 

Stranded in the Nevada Desert Drunk Telling Folk Stories

 Adulthood, its a trial and error of vast levels, like being put in a barrel and rolled down a hill. If you don’t vomit you’ll get that promotion you wanted. I’ve been living the life of the weekend warrior playing socialite and party monster while keeping up an important work ethic during the week. I’m learning more then I ever have and its incredibly terrifying. The learning Im going to have to seek is daunting, but the results are what make me smile in the morning on a rainy Monday.

The love life?

I want it to feel like Lord Hurons new album sounds, I want it to blind side me like the bottle of Basil Hayden’s Bourbon did when I bought it last week. I took it home and basked in its romantic tango with the melodies coming from my new itunes purchase.

I’m describing bourbon and music as my compromise to my failing love life…

I’m figuratively stranded in the god damn Nevada desert drunk telling folk stories.

I’m stubborn as fuck, which makes it hard to settle for anything that doesn’t make me have that “short of breath” feeling. Why not wait and kill time cock blocking your guy friends and coming home to sit in front of your oven patiently waiting for your Hawaiian pizza pockets?

There is NOTHING wrong with that, although your guy friends might start to not include you in their outings. Unless you live with one of them and chain smoke at the dinner table on a Tuesday morning while he’s attempting to seal a deal.

She sounded like Swedish Minnie Mouse, who sounds like that?

Femme Bots, thats who.

If anything I saved his life from his dick getting vaporized, I am such a good roommate and friend.

“Self high-five.”

I’m starting to figure out the balance and shift from the fashion world, I like this new world. I like the creative possibilities and the people that are drawn to it. I feel like I made the best decision I’ve ever made for myself and Im fucking terrified of it. I’m insanely excited and inspired but its like walking blind folded into a mine field. I’m trying to man the fuck up as fast as I can, the environment adjustment is the biggest.

Don’t get me wrong, its the best environment I could have asked for, I was meant to be here. There is not one doubt about that, however finding my place in it all has taken some time. I’m an attentive sweet little lady but I’m also a creative nut bag and realizing during the week I have to balance that is a hard shift. I have the work ethic of a Wall Street banker but if I haven’t fully gotten a system down the creative comes out and wants to wander.

I’ll get there, I’m meant to get there.

This past weekend I spent with my roommate Tim spontaneously getting the number 6 and an arrow tattooed on us with his sister Molly. Prior to this I was drinking champagne in Bellwoods while my dearest Meghan shot a bubble gun at me. The weekends are becoming memories I could never buy, the realization we are all growing up. Bigger moments and benchmark events are beginning to happen, huge chapters are being written.

Meghan’s getting married, every time I think about that I get this feeling I’ve never felt before. Its like being to a country you’ve never been before.

One of those moments you actually feel life happening.

It like that moment you have with your parents where you understand they are human, the hero’s are mortal and there is so much understanding and appreciation for that.

The thing we all have to remember is to keep being spontaneous, keep living in the moment when you have one. Make time for them, from the finger tips of a hopeless romantic I beg you to take chances. Realize moments you would normally be distracted by your phone. Remember at the other side of that dating app is a real human being and live a little, its not a game and its ruining our ability to communicate.

I sink myself into a feeling and this summer I truly believe a lot of us are going to shed the vulnerability and enjoy the wonderful lives we all lead.

Why not?

At the end of it all we are all looking for the happiest we can possibly be.

Thanks for reading Lovelies

Xox

Tunes – Also I don’t know if I’ve said this but these songs are a big part of my writing process. I’m also someone who can’t have silence, I drive my friends nuts with always trying to find a plug in for my iphone.

Elvis Presley – Mystery Train  

Lord Huron – Luisa 

Death cab For Cutie – You’ve Haunted Me All My Life

Max Frost – Let Me Down Easy 

Lord Huron – Fool For Love

St Paul and The Broken Bones – It’s Midnight

Drops of Jupiter & My Letter to T Swift





There I go again, abondoning you, taking away that stupid blog you read about a girl that shares her life more than most people would like. 

How could I be such a tease, like vegan brownies. They look good but taste like if dirt had an asshole. 

Life’s been no short of a shit storm, changes are just slapping me in the face and I kinda like it. I finally crawled out of my living room and managed to get hired at a marketing and advertising agency. 

BOOM! 

How the fuck did I pull that off? Being relentless and not settling for a job that wasn’t going to move me forward. Some of my friends will call me stubborn, and they are right. I’m the mule that will kick you if you try and move me anywhere I don’t want to go but I will lick your face after. 

There’s no real reason behind me licking your face…

In friendship land Tim has been a king amongst men during my slow climb towards an adulthood lifestyle. Our place is still non stop profanities and hilarity. 

Last weekend I hung out with Tim while he Dj’d a funk party in Kensington market. We priviously had dinner that consisted of many drinks, yours truly crushed a bottle of Spanish wine to herself. This lead to me making a VERY wine lipped video of myself singing to Train “Drops of Jupiter” while Tim was in the shower. I met Tim later as I needed to shower the early drunk off me and up my hydration levels. 

I like arriving to a bar tipsy so as not to draw attention to myself too soon. Well alone at least, if I’m with the girls it’s anyone’s bet the level of drunk we’ve reached. 

Anyway so there I am doing drink runs for Tim and myself dancing with strangers and making fun of 20 year olds trying to grind to funk music. The end of the night came pretty quick and we invited a few people over. 

It gets hazy here but stay with me.

I remember I was flying between my room and the living room talking to everyone. I might have told off one of Tims aquaintinces for asking me where he could do coke. I MIGHT have put my hand in his face and walked out of my room, I MIGHT have.

Quickly afte that I went and passed out on Tim which made him have to carry me to bed. On the way to my room I apparently decided this was the best time to do a scissor kick. Tim dropped me, obviously, I was like a drunk deer trying to escape from absolutely nothing. I hit the floor and rolled over to face Tim with one eye open and said

“Faggot.”

We both started laughing as he finally got me in bed where I then made him cuddle me until I passed out. 

CANT YOU FEEL THE FRIENDSHIP FEELS!?!?!?

I’m back to being the lovely single piece of work I’ve grown to prefer. I don’t know if it’s me or who I choose to date or just a random sequence of events but a relationship still isn’t on the board for me. 

Which leads me to my discovery of the new Taylor Swift 1989 album that just got released. Two summers ago I had the privilege to work for T Swift at the Rogers centre for her Red tour. I did wardrobe and at the time I was gloriously single and creating dramatic romances in my off time boredom. I didn’t spend much time with the girl but we shared a moment backstage. I gabbed about my sex life with her dancers, I don’t doubt she listened in. 

Now I’m listening to this album and start seeing that indeed T Swift has stolen my sex life chronicals. Let’s be real, she’s always been the girl next door, the sweet dreamer, and the highly emotional. Maybe she was just drawing a blank on her regular sweet romance songs. Regardless I have written Ms Swift a letter to ask for royalties for my life rights that I believe I deserve. 

Note: You might want to listening to the songs ‘Blank Space” and “Style” before reading this letter. 

Hey T Swift, 

How’s that new hairstyle working for you? I guess the bangs got kinda annoying after awhile, specially after I kept getting mistaken for you backstage.  You were cool about it though, you were even inviting and we let loose and shared relationship delemas. Member that long list of ex lovers I shared while helping you into that ball gown? The suit and ties I was running around with and how a couple of them used to proclaim often that I was insane? 

Loves a game huh? Bitch I taught you that game when you sent your bouncer out to get us cigarettes and weed. 

No Taylor, the worst has come and I am completely dumbfounded you turned my ongoing midnight male meet up into the pop dream that is “Style”.  It’s nothing new that every single girl has that one James Dean type that just shows up out of the blue every now and then. You know, the one you can’t not go home with even if you want to punch them for not calling you for months. I just don’t think you have it in you T Swift to pull something like this off without falling into a tub of ice cream in your unicorn pjs. 

Yes I know about the unicorn pjs.

So I’d  like my royalties made out in cash please. There’s no need to get dramatic about it, I get it, my stories are ridiculous inspirations for pop songs. I didn’t ask for this life but I’m living it out the best I can. 

You can keep the selfies I took with your phone, they are just of me on the toilet. 

Hang in there T Swift, one day you’ll be the harlequin you so badly want to be. Just ask Lindsey Lohan, I did wonders for her aside from being a drug hoovering crack bag. 

Your Bae, Casey Jane. 

Thanks for reading loves, I’ll be back more frequently. 

The Unemployed Truth

Remember the darling Holly Golightly?

The real phoney of New York City that took herself to Tiffany’s window display anytime she had a “red day?”

I’ve been having my fair share of red days lately and I’m not really into believing a jewelry store will fix any of it. Maybe if I were there to successfully rob the place and head to Mexico…

Maybe then I’d be more inclined to visit the place.

No sparkling display is going to snap me out of the reality that I’m broke, jobless and in another slew of panic attacked mornings. When you can’t make rent and or cellphone payment your brain becomes a calculator of eternity. No matter what opportunities you uncover that little black cloud follows reminding you of the obvious.

You’re broke and bills are piling up, now what are you doing about it?

Unfortunately sending out over 70 resumes doesn’t quite put my mind at ease. I know I’m supposed to be patient but when you can’t leave your house because the grocery store doesn’t except I.O.U’s it’s a weight I can’t explain.

Although, through it all I won’t give up, because deep down, there is always foresight. There is always this vision that plays out if I just keep going. I’ve read about the persistence, the passion, and the patience it’s taken many other successful people to get to where they stand now.

It’s still fucking hard and anyone that tells you different is sniffing glue.

Being unemployed is a funny activity to take part in everyday, you do some weird shit when you’ve got nothing else to do. I get up usually with the hope that I’ll have a reply to the thousands of jobs I’ve applied to. Once the reality that no one gives a fuck about my ability to curate visuals sets in I then take to my couch.

There a lot of things you do when unemployed.

1. Attempt to make your resume “stand out” against the masses of other unemployed creatives. Maybe put in bold at the top MAGIC MONKEY NUTS to get their attention.

2. Creep the shit out of every company and it’s top employees on LinkedIn. If you’re really good you find them on Facebook with a recent Saturday night photo of them drunkenly pole dancing at the Hideout on Queen street.

Screen shot it and if things get real bad use it as leverage, it’s a dog eat dog world out there.

3. Update your website of any new and obviously pro bono work you’ve done.
I wonder if lawyers ever stage court hearings in their living room with other unemployed lawyers and judges like photographers and Stylist do?

4. Walk over to your fridge for the 100th time to make sure your food hasn’t moved places and that mouldy thing in a Tupperware container is still in fact really gross.

5. Have every job searching platform open on your computer and strongly debate applying to bottle girl jobs at night clubs with names like “TRA$E” or “Liquid night club”. Only because you know you’d make your rent, bills, and a possible vacation in one night of putting up with a sea of douche bags revved on G and Patron.

6. Call your parents and tell them casually that your landlord is coming to shoot out your knee caps so you won’t be joining them for Sunday dinner. Immediately following you check your bank account to see if they fell for your pitiful cry for help.

They didn’t because you’re an “adult” now.

7. While checking your almost empty bank account you see a glimmer of hope in the form of a government deposit of 60 dollars. You then hit the grocery store and wine wrack as you haven’t actually been outside in two days.

8. Go home and tell yourself you won’t open the wine until you send out 10 more resumes.

9. You open the wine and find out that hoarders is now on Netflix and applying to that knitting store can seriously go fuck itself.

You worked hard today, it’s drink to forget time.

To all my unemployed compadres I am with you, we must stand together in these long days of randomness and uncertainties. We must all support each other and regale in stories of weird new hobbies we’ve taken up to have something to talk about with friends.

We are all together on this…

Unless I see you at a job interview, then I’m slipping laxatives into your coffee when you’re not looking.

Dog eat dog world.

15 Times Your Friends Made You Understand Life Better Than Oprah

First off, thank you to everyone who read and shared my last post on “27 Things You Can Still Do When You’re 27.”I have decided to continue writing in list format. I am an avid reader of the notorious time killing website Buzzfeed and have decided that not only are lists fun to write, they are also easy to edit.
Also because I’ve been making up lists since my last post, I’ve got some golden ones like,

“10 times your poop scared you into thinking about your life choices.”
Or
“20 times being drunk brought you closer to becoming the glorious human that you are.”

They’re good right?

RIGHT?!?!

Friends at this age are one of the most important parts of our lives. We tell them everything, they’re like a therapist who also needs a therapist that you get drunk with. They are the ones at 3am that suggest riding the elevator in their condo while hot boxing it is the only thing in life worth doing. They are also the ones that you can call on when you’re 3/4’s into a bottle of wine on a Tuesday. Maybe you just want to hear their voice, maybe something troubling happened in your job, or maaaaaybe you called your ex and left a drunken one way conversation on his answer machine.

Whatever that never happened…

Here’s the list,

15 Times Your Friends Made You Understand Life Better Than Oprah.

1. That time you all went out for lunch and just ended up ordering wine and talking about weird penises you’ve all encountered. I was once with a guy that had a penis that curved up…

It was like a boomerang, he wasn’t even Austrialian.

2. Having the comfort of knowing that every morning you will have at least one poop talk with one of your friends.

Fuck you webMD you don’t know what “normal” is.

3. When you and all your friends are poor but your combined poor ness equals a magnum of red wine.

“There are 5 of us and we all $3.00 so we can buy one magnum, MATH!”

4. Those moments at a bar when you all decide dancing with sweaters pulled over your heads is really, really funny.

“WE’RE HUMAN DISCO HELICOPTERS.”

And oddly no one got laid that night…

5. Drunk food missions, not one in particular, they all seem to go down the same way where one of you is yelling “I Love You” to a box of Pad Thai while you all zig zag along Queen West.

6. When you have to move, your friends will always help for pizza and beer.

Well unless you’re moving onto the 5th floor of a walk up. I want strippers and blow for dealing with that shit.

7. Saying “Remember that time?” And referencing 12 years ago when you all got wasted and ended up rolling down the hill of Riverdale park at 1am.

8. Having that best friend who’s the opposite sex that knows all your gross habits and relationship anxieties.

These are usually the friends you make a “If we’re still single at 40” pact with because the free fall into spinsterhood is a terrifying thought.

9. That moment after you all eat a massive amount of food and start to compare and name your food babies.

If you don’t know what a food baby is than you have what I believe is called “self control.”

10. That constant fear that one day, at anytime, one of your best friends will take that leap and send you a photo of their poop.

I live everyday like it’s my last…

11. Farts will always be funny with your besties.

“I had to leave my apartment…it was that bad.”

12. That time you needed an alibi to get out of a work conference and had your friend pretend to be your doctor.

“Yes I am afraid she has herpies on her knees.”

13. Always having people that give just as less fucks as you.

“I was going to shower and then I realized all I had to do today was meet up with you.”

14. One of you ALWAYS has a flask on them because you never know.

You never know.

15. Those moments when life’s got you down and you see your best pal update their Instagram with a photo of them on the toilet at work.

It’s the little things in life.

27 Things You Can Still Do When You’re 27

Recently my best friend Kmo posted this article “27 things you MUST say goodbye to at 27” and it sparked a rage inside me that I haven’t felt since my convenience store switched their pizza pocket brand to McCain.
Having my own blog and being 27 I have decided to retaliate against this writer who clearly has an extensive Cosmo magazine collection and found her sexuality through a tampon commercial.

Unfortunately you will need to read her list before mine for dramatic effect and hilarity.

Without further hesitation I give you Casey Janes’ 27 things you ARE still doing at 27 and it’s ok.

1. Bagels? Really? You brought the holiest (pun intended) breakfast food into being 27? I ate 3 sandwiches last night in less than 2 hours at 10pm and felt the sweet freedom of being an adult. And how DARE you smite cream cheese, it is the spread of the gods!
Your body is still young enough to work that out and have an incredible morning poop story to text to your girlfriends/guyfriends.

2. One day birthday? You know who has one day birthdays? My dad because he’s 56 and gets so hammered that he has to put a restraining order out on himself from his liver.
Oh, and that guy on University Ave that yells about Armageddon.
That guy still thinks it’s the year 1300.
You have every right to ruin your best friends lives for a week for the sake of getting older.

3. “Just because” vacations are over.
I don’t know if this woman met all her friends at a bridal show or a country club but I’m calling bullshit on this one.
Actually I’m calling bullshit on the whole article but that’s beside the point.
I recently got back from a 26 day European trip that cost me $1800 dollars and only $188 of that was spent on accommodation. It was amazing, it was hilarious and I plan on traveling to LA in March. I am also a bridesmaid in 2 weddings and each bride gets shit faced drunk in animal onesies at my place twice a month.

4. I’m sorry, babies?
Half of us are still using Tinder as a delivery service while the other half are trying to remember if we have enough in our savings account to buy wine for the night.

5. Is this woman some weird estrogen werewolf? When the lights come on does she instantly grow hair out of every orifice and start drooling?
I’ve partied with people in their 30’s who are the last ones at the 24 hr pho restaurant debating having a game of Catan and smoking weed. I look forward to Saturday bed picnics and multiple naps.
BECAUSE IM AN ADULT AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!
Also I’m no treat at 2am when the lights come on but you better believe I give ZERO fucks about my physical appearance.

6,7,8. Tell that to my bank account and Anne Taylor? Really? Might as well just sew your vagina up and pick a husband out of the line at the Staples business depot around the corner.

9. If I want to put a bejewelled head band on and drop MDMA at a music festival in Barrie I will.
I.
Will.

10. Who the fuck wears rainbow sandals?

11. Ooooooooooo somebody didn’t get into that law school they told everyone they were going to.

12. The only reason, ONLY reason I don’t wear white is because I can’t afford dry cleaning and red wine and pizza sauce stains are a bitch to get out.

13. Yes Tweens are indeed taking over midnight movies everywhere, it’s a real epidemic. Although they are the perfect scape goat when the theatre attendant tries to catch you drinking a tetra pack of Chardonnay.
“It OBVIOUSLY belongs to the 16 year old, officer.”
“Mam, I’m not an officer and you still have the straw in your mouth.”

14. VERY SERIOUS CAREER…
Here I’ll get serious, very serious.
Never stop exploring your options, never think that how you are evolving in your career depends on a formula. The most successful people I know started off doing one thing that lead to something they absolutely love. There is no race you need to win and you can certainly have fun while building a successful fulfilling career.
Also don’t forget to live, a lot of us think we need to shut ourselves off and put all our attention to our career. I have been one of those and you miss out on a lot of moments and opportunities.
It’s all about balance.

15. What old white man parties is this lady going to?

16. What I want to know is what is your standard of “ratty?”
Last summer I wore a pair of my roommates black satin underwear and a bikini top that I bought at a Target in Pennsylvania.
I still got laid.

17. YOU CANT TAKE BACKSTREET BOYS AWAY FROM ME!!!

18. Hey if I’m doubled over my toilet because of day old Indian food, I have every right to be late for my doctors appointment.
I’m actually doing him a favour, I’m like a modern day Mother Theresa.

19. My mother and I fight about who that actor was in that movie that had the thing happen in it.
It is a glorious spectacle and I would never give that up.

20. I can’t afford cable so…

21. I don’t have a grudge, they were legit idiots.

22. Unless I have a date or my roommate comments on my appearance I am ok with going 2 days without showering. These are usually the days I spend watching hours of CSI Miami while job hunting on my couch.

23. NO! You do not bring themed parties into this!
As my readers know I have monthly costume parties at my place and I will continue this tradition until I’m dead. I look forward to the day my kids come home and find me and their aunts dressed like cowboy flapper girls singing Dolly Parton’s 9-5.

24. I read the news…that Marmaduke, he kills me.

25. But then how are you supposed to laugh at her when he says he’s married?

26. Oh yea cause adding each photo at a time is totally better.

27. Just remember ladies, Keggles count as your daily exercise.

Thanks for reading and remember, you are still young and there is nothing you should or should not be doing at any age.
Well…
Maybe pooping yourself, if you’re 27 and pooping yourself I think you have bigger problems than this list.

Tunes

Dolly Parton – Nine to Five
Backstreet Boys – I Want It That Way
Father John Misty – Chateau #4 (In C for Two Virgins)

The Lovely Self Saboteur

 

Christmas and New Years are now over and everyone in Toronto is nursing a hangover. The holidays are always a little hard for me, I’m usually broke and going through freelance vacancy. This year was nice as I played host to my family. My Oma (which is Dutch for Grandmother) was diagnosed with Dementia this year, its been really hard to see her mind go deeper into the disease. She isn’t at the point where she doesn’t know who we are but she still has moments where she thinks shes been robbed. Luckily my family has a great sense of humor and are quick to turn a somewhat sad moment into a punch line.

Booze also helps.

Now if you think I was able to pull off an entire Christmas dinner you clearly also believe that I am a 4 foot old Asian man. There is no way this lady can orchestrate the cooking of a 10 pound turkey with even the idea of putting my hand up its ass and stuffing it full of bread crumbs and rosemary. My family had taken the safe road and decided to order our meal from a restaurant. All I had to do was pour myself a glass of wine and throw everything neatly packed into the oven with very clear temperature directions. I had some anxieties about over cooking the turkey but it tasted amazing and so the rest of the family shenanigans were able to continue.

5 Tuninga things that happened that night.

1. My Oma got too drunk and had to take a nap in my room under all our coats.
2. My Dad for the first time called me a bitch for convincing my brother to eat a quarter when he was 5 years old. I had not realized he didn’t know I was behind the whole thing.
3. My brother calling my dads phone saying he was on his way and my dad answering his phone “Gangster” by saying loudly “Motherfucker”.
4. It only took us 5 minutes to roll a joint after knowing my Oma was fast asleep.
5. I ended up falling asleep on my floor until my roommate put me to bed.

Needless to say we were all very hungover Christmas Day.

I woke this morning and went for a run, I almost threw up, I was at the 3k mark and started to feel the toll of the last couple weeks. In the past month I’ve found out I’m loosing my assisting job, I was broken up with, and my family has been going through a landslide of developing mental illnesses. I thought I could just push myself through it, go to all the holiday parties with a smile and shrug it off.

It doesn’t work like that though, next thing you know you wake up in your bed not knowing how you even got there. As you know I am now 27 and realistically should not be wondering where my feet have taken me the night before. I am one of those lovely self saboteur’s that when things get bad I make them worse. Every time I lift myself out of a spell like this I tell myself “never again” and I launch myself back into a positive place. It keeps happening, I’ve been trying to break this cycle for years and I think it was worse this time because I was finally feeling like I had my life together.

Clearly I was not anywhere near where I am supposed to be. I have this theory that if you ignore your gut long enough it will make decisions for you. I knew deep down that all these things were meant to happen but the problem is I get so swept up in the emotion of drastic change that I forget to look at it rationally. I go back to being a joke at a party, I dress myself up only to hide the freak outs that are going on in my head. I know what I need to change but I don’t feel like I deserve to make the change.

I was never good at taking the easy road, actually I’m not even good at finding it.

I’m by no means playing a pity card or trying to sound like a victim. These are all choices I actively made, its the bad habits that I let happen again and again. I’m aware of them, I just don’t always listen to them and that is when I get hurt or hurt someone else. Whether it be a stranger or a close friend, unintentionally they get wrapped up in my mission to fuck myself up.

It’s a wake up call that should not be ignored.

The silver lining is that throughout this month I still can clearly see that beautiful little life I want to lead. I can still see all the possibilities and opportunities that could come my way. Not once do I ever say “I give up” to myself and I believe its because I still love myself under all this crap shoot drama I make. I know I am a good person, I have the most wonderful people around me. My biggest fear is that my sabotaging habits will push these beautiful people away from me, I think that is one of the main things that snap me back to reality.

I know I am not alone in feeling like this from time to time. I know I am not the first 27 year old woman to look at their life and wonder how the fuck they got there. I spend hours thinking about all my good qualities and all my faults, I do the balancing act of which qualities come out more. I’m trying to focus on my strengths but having self doubt as an artist just adds to the struggling motivation. I sometimes feel like the dumbest person alive, like I missed the boat on living a normal life, I worry I missed the boat on a lot of things.

Although I can look at an article of clothing, take it home, and create my own version of it. I can look at a photograph and paint it almost exactly the same. I can people watch or read something that helps me create a story through clothing on a freelance styling job. I can see a display in a window on Queen Street and recreate it in my apartment for my roommate and I to enjoy. Better yet I can look around at my apartment, the clothes I own, the food I eat, that all comes from me being creative. I make a living and I choose to make a living creating things. Its not the easiest profession, a lot of people think you’re crazy, a lot of people think you’re lucky, and some have no idea how your life is lived.

I’m excited for the New Year, I wouldn’t mind a fresh new slate. I’ll spend the next couple days letting go of negative things, writing out all the things I want for 2015, and telling the people that matter to me how important they are in my life. There is a lot of potential out there if you work for it.The things that are worth the most are sometimes the things you put everything on the line for, they are the things in life that make it worth living. This year I am going to work for everything, my family, my friends, and my career, maybe even a relationship.

Life goes on and I don’t want to be the one left behind.

 

Ben Howard – Conrad 

Gary Clark Jr – Things are Changing

Hozier  – Work Song