It's been a while..

Hey...

Long story short, I took a year off of school to work and rethink my choice of study. Last summer after classes ended I got a job at a crappy sports bar. Almost a year goes by, still no sign of me deciding to finally head back to school, and I hate my job more that ever and I'm on the brink of going insane. So I quit. That was nearly 3 months ago. Now I am broke and jobless. Oh, and I'm determined to get an office job, hopefully in relation to some type of art (fashion, music, design, photography-whatever) because I'm realizing that I may as well do something I might actually enjoy and that will bring me closer to figuring out what to do school-wise. Funny thing though, those types of jobs are hard to get when your resume reads "waitress" for the past 3 years and you aren't studying in a related field. I've been having a tough time trying to get my foot in the door, or even a response.

I wish I could say that I'm making the most of my summer with all of this extra time on my hands but, the as the law of summer in the city goes, "no money, no candy".

xo

BF

There's something incredibly indie-cool about this French all-girl band. I love the Plastiscines!!!

Hey all,

I say 'all' because I know how many of you are reading this and quite frankly, I'm gonna have to start getting rid of excess followers. I'm just writing this/watching SNL instead of studying! YAY! So, a few weeks ago it was my friend Marc's 21st birthday. I showed up late so I decided to take advantage of his 'open bar' to catch up to the others/ binge drink by myself (TOmato-TomAto). Here's a before picture:

My friend David and I pre-debauchery.

Anyway, 2 hours later after flip cup, Jagger bombs and too many drinks and warm champagne I realized I had not abused alcohol, I down-right molested it. And, I was gonna be sick, not right away, but soon. That's when I left the party alone without saying good bye, I had to get home and I had to get home fast! Did I take a cab? Of course not because my cheap drunk ass knew the Metro was still open. I paid for a monthly pass and I was gonna use it god damn it! So I stumble through the Metro station, wait for the next train, sit down and .........barf....in the Metro car....twice. Then, I sat in the facing seat (because that way, no one would be able to tell it was me who 'done it') and took a picture of my upchuck. I got off at Berri, and opted not to take the other Metro that brings me to a station closer to home for fear of puking again. At the time I felt that being the chick that pukes on the sidewalk on St-Catherine's in front of 50-or-so people would maybe make a much better story for my grandchildren one day. I can't remember the 20 minute walk home,  I made it is miraculously. But, I do remember not puking (suprise mothafuckas!!) and the dude that sells roses on the street tried to get me to buy a rose, so I yelled at him "Not tonight, Rosa!" (Rosa is what the locals call him). Then, when I finally got to my street I realized I couldn't find my key in my purse. Luckily,  my roommate  works at a bar nearby so I went to see her and got her key. Oh, and here's the best part...I get home with an overwhelming urge to vomit, so I run to the bathroom but miss my target and vomit in the hallway (floor and walls, I don't do things half-assed), then I get in the bathroom and proceed to vomit on the floor. Double-oops. So I try to focus and sit on the floor (in my vomit with my jeans on), then I vomited the last bit of puke I had left in me on the toilet seat. Nothing actually went in, so I didn't even have to flush; but, I did have a lot of scrubbing to do the next day and explain to my roommate why the floor was sticky when she came home after work. Oh, and did I mention what time I went to bed?? I was KO by midnight...maybe even 11:30. What can I say, when you roll with me it's classy all the way. 

The next night I went to a Lady GaGa concert. It was great, it was actually her birthday. Girl gives good show and I'm not into pop music that much; but, I gotta say she is one awesome chick and a great artist/performer. Kudos to her and her dealer 'cause girlfriend was on some good shit. I probably would have enjoyed it more if it weren't so crowded, if I wasn't so hung over and if there weren't so many GaGa look-alikes . It was like the Kiss Army and Spice Girl fans had babies and the result was a bunch of girls and boys, young and old dressed in Drag with a blue lightening rods painted on their faces. Trippy.

Anywho, it's getting late and J.R Diggs is over now so it's way past my bed time. And yes, I am fully aware that I'm the only person who watches J.R Diggs, but I love it.

PEACE!

There's just 'something' that's getting in the way..

Hiiiiideeehoooo! I know it's forever since my last blog post...to be honest not much has been happening on my end, mostly school stuff and spending my off days chilling out and getting into the herbs followed by massive amounts of food. Eat,sleep and school. What a life! So anyway, school is still on for another month or so (boring!) but I have some cool things ahead. And, I've been plagued with insomnia lately so I can take the time that I'm not sleeping and write blog posts instead. Yay!It's my friend Marc's birthday party on Friday and I'm seeing Lady GaGa in concert Saturday. Now I just have to figure out what to wear. I could buy one outfit and recycle it all weekend...hey! there's a recession out there, I can't spend on frivolous things. But, the 66$ make-up palette I bought last weekend doesn't count; 1)it was a damn good deal 2) it was an empty place in my soul that needed fulfilling through high intensity pigments.

So, I was chatting on the phone with my friend Duane when we got on the topic of his sex life. Apparently he'd had some bad experience recently he felt was appropriate to tell me. He said he'd slept with a girl who was "horrible in bed".Ouch. He also said the worst part was when she refused to take the multiple hints Duane was trying to give her and he had a really hard time getting rid of her. Double ouch. 

The worst part for me, other than the graphic details of the act provided by Duane, was the fact that I know several girls just like that crazy bitch. These girls latch on to men for dear life and end up scaring them either earlier or later if the man deems the sex good enough to endure such a nuisance in their life. Une botte c'est une botte.

Women on the other hand, usually find themselves doing the total opposite. Women will often overlook a poor sex life if the relationship is going well and if it's a good guy, a rare commodity in most areas. Coincidently, the video/song that I am totally infatuated with right now fits the thematic to a T. Lily Allen says it best in her new song 'Not Fair'. And, yes I like Lily Allen, who cares if she parties hard, she also makes and writes great music. A pop artist that writes her own music.Cool. No one could sing lyrics like: "I lay here in this wet patch in the middle of the bed, I'm feeling pretty damn hard done by, I spent ages giving head", if they hadn't written it themselves. Her video is also very awesome, It's very  retro 70's-country music -glam. Complete with one piece pantsuit, country variety show set-up and sky high glitter-sparkle pumps. Hawt. I have an empty space in my soul that could use some shoes like those. Check it out. I'm off to bed, the pills are kicking in.

I have to give a shout out to my special friend Teri-Rae (she was named after a Cabbage Patch Kid, for realz), she is 21 today. Jtm Rae, BONNE FETE!! Hope you have a great day with lots of presents and love. <3  : )

Alarm

What starts with 'f' and ends with 'uck'? Duh....fire truck! As in the sound of fire truck sirens woke me up this morning. Lovely. Sometimes it's a fire truck, other times it's stray cats crying at my window ( I should really stop feeding them), or it's my neighbor singing opera at 3 a.m.  Just one of the many things living in the city has to offer. I also wake up when I hear my roommate come home from work at 4 a.m. No worries, she's not a hooker, she just works at the coat check in Montreal's largest gay bar. She makes 2-3 times more tips (tips that she doesn't have to declare in her taxes) hanging up coats and drinking with other employees than I did slaving away  at a rotisserie downtown as a waitress last semester. Bitch.

P.S For the record, I have yet to call the cops on my neighbor's late night/early morning concerts. But, he had the police come to my place a few weeks ago for noise :O. It was a Thursday night at 12:30, we were 4 friends sitting around my dining room table drinking and chatting when we heard a knock on the door. I expected it might be my neighbor coming to ask us to turn it down, but, it was 2 police officers instead. They asked us to quiet down our party; although, they looked rather amused at the fact that someone was actually stupid enough to call the cops on four people sitting down in a kitchen, having a drink. So now, every time  we hear  our neighbor having sex (well, it sounds like sex perhaps but we never see him with anyone else, maybe he sneaks in male hookers at night) we try to knock on the ceiling to let him know that he ain't all that quiet as a mouse either. I emphasize 'try' to knock on the ceiling in time because it's usually over within minutes. He's rude AND premature. You can bet I will be waiting with 911 on speed dial the next time he makes any noise past 11 p.m. But, I'm still debating whether I should fight fire with fire by calling the cops on him or if I should kill him with kindness and go ask him very politely to turn it down when I get the opportunity. It's a tough call.

Too many Cosmos..

Who knew cosmopolitans could be so deadly? My roommate and I decided it would be a good idea to have a few cosmopolitans with dinner last night. We had cranberry juice, we had vodka, we were making dinner and needed some way to make it interesting, so why not? Here's why not...

We drank cosmos as we prepared dinner, as we ate and as we watched disc 1 of season 3 of Sex & the City. By 8:00 p.m, we were both HAMMERED!! Also, martini glasses aren't exactly spill friendly. I drunk called my man-friend and chatted with him for a while; he seemed annoyed but was gracious enough not to hang up on me despite my bitchy drunken attitude, slurred speech, dropping the phone twice and making a mess (spilled in my roommates purse...oopsie)  during our telephone conversation. After my embarrassing telephone episode, we made peanut butter cookies for dessert, stuffed our faces and then both passed out in our respective beds by 10:30. I haven't been to bed before 11 p.m since maybe grade school!

To my defense, I have a theory about the effects of cosmopolitans on women. The effects are  similar to those of Jack Daniel's whiskey on men (i.e makes men go apeshit). Men have JD. Women have Cosmopolitans . Nuff said.