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

unnamed unnamed (1) unnamed (2) unnamed (3) unnamed (4)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

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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

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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.