14 April 2009


I was going through my old myspace blogs in preparation for my new website (don't you all worry, all of these facebook ones will be archived as well) and I realized just how funny I was 3 years ago. And fun. Like exceedingly fun. I know a lot of people who try to have these crazed lives filled with debauched parties and insane fashion, but mine just seemed to happen to me. It often happened accidentally and when I was looking the other way and while Xstina was at the bar getting us another round. My life was like a crazy fusion of a Warhol/Hughes plot – with the added bonus of a lot of late night poutines.

That is, of course, not to say I am boring now....I am a traveling diva as comfortable on a Laos public bus as in a 5 star Honolulu hotel (That is a fucking lie, by the way. I will poop in a filthy squat toilet and spit bugs and pebbles out of my food, but I still love a good towel warmer and crave a polite concierge and some sushi.) But in Vancouver in the last 2 years I was boring. Like super amazingly intergalactically fucking boring (I cut my finger and had to go to the hospital 3 weeks before we left for Asia, and it was like, the MOST exciting thing that had happened on a Friday night in ages.) I like Sean, we like food (wine) and on Fridays I was bone achingly tired and mentally retarded from the week. Putting on heels would have been like WORK - and my pants, frantically undone by the time I was unlocking my apartment door, were not going anywhere near my ass until Saturday morning. Hell, even if Xstina or Brandon were over I just walked around clutching an afghan around my waist (most of the time. Sometimes I went afghanless and just wore Sean's briefs, y'know, for modesty's sake.)

Contrasted to three or so years ago, I could be sitting in my undies (there is a theme here – I do not wear pants at home. I am not wearing pants right now) at 11pm on a Tuesday watching CSI and a random friend would call and say “Be ready in 7 minutes. We goin' out.” And lord love a duck, I WOULD be ready, skintight jeans shimmied up, vintage boots wrestled on and false eyelashes glued in place. It was all about meeting boys and maintaining image. Was I happy? Like, 'HAPPY happy, know I'm loved and in love too, healthy and cute' happy? Fuck No! I was empty and bitter – but man did I have fun.

Sean and I were watching a Lady Gaga video, and reading an article about the uproar of media surrounding her and her “underground party circuit hipster lifestyle”, and I was like “I did that. How is this new?” But I was a bit jealous, I guess. And nostalgic. Sometimes I feel a bit like maybe I would love to move to Toronto or LA and bar hop again, be a part of insane afterhours and avant garde art scenes, but I remember how empty and shallow it all was and I am glad to be in Asia and actually living life rather than drinking it away with scenesters. So when we go home (wherever and whenever that will be) I am happier to eat asparagus and chevre and drink lots of red wine with interesting Sean rather than guzzle double vodka sodas and engage in spurts of vapid conversation with strangers and 'bar friends' in the bathrooms of dive bars.

Well, let me recant a bit. I will go out to bars occasionally, I will party sometimes and OF COURSE I will still drink double vodka sodas (sometimes with supper.....) It just won't be on a Friday night. That's m'pantsless time.

I just want to apologize again to vodka.

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