A Lovers’ Scavenger Hunt
one sunshiney day in Trinity Bellwoods Park in downtown Toronto, an irish couple that had been together for three years were deeply in love and prone to romantic gestures worthy of a ralph fiennes movie. kelsie, whose heart was inextricably linked to callum, come ruin or rapture, decided to send her ginger-haired lover on a scavenger hunt throughout the park.
as he followed balloons, notes, photos, and scientific formulas that described the tapestry of their love, he knew that soon he would be in possession of a bottle of bubbly, a pain au chocolat, and the key-owner to his heart.
just another one of those wonderful things you can stumble upon in your city …. if you’re paying attention.
SOLD!
The Love A Heart event was a massive success! As I blogged about before, I was asked by the wonder-woman event organizer if I’d like to be auctioned off on a date to the highest bidder, with all the money going to the Heart & Stroke Foundation. Naturally I said yes, but as the event approached, I slowly began to pass a kidney stone of sheer terror. It’s petrifying asking a crowd of 500-plus people to put a dollar value on your debatable-hotness! Bussey had blogged a few weeks ago that I would, in all likelihood, sell for $170 which I thought was extremely generous.
So how much did I sell for?
$300!!!
If I had been wearing underwear that night, they would have needed changing. (Undies are for quitters).
And who was my top bidder?
Dis guy.
Although technically he shares me with my wifey, but that goes without saying.
Now please enjoy this photogasm which accurately depicts the depravity and kickassery of the night.
No comment.
me, ashley, and sofi shall henceforth be known as the “boob troop.”
shannon and i have devil eyes!
was nice to see george again. we had a quick catch-up. he sold for $800, which i assumed would have been the top bid of the night. out of nowhere, ryan-gosling-esque Kerry pulls a $1025!! bless his heart, he then matched the bid.
if only all the hosers we knew in highschool back in scarbage could see us now
OMG IS THAT LEN?!! that’s what i was thinking the entire night, dude never comes out! it takes a lot to get him excited about events. he was also my saviour, basically talking me off a ledge for the past two weeks. i was genuinely shitting myself for this event, but he was coo’ing in my BBM ear to just have a laugh and remember it’s for charity (with extra shits n’ giggles). totally worked!
although after i got off stage, my adrenaline suddenly drained, and vicki needed to haul me outside for a quick breather, as i had a wee lil’ panic attack.
did i mention i stayed in a hotel that night? look at me, i’m adult-y.
view of the ROM. years and years ago, i worked as a tour guide on those hop-on-hop-off double decker buses for tourists, and when we’d drive by the ROM (which was still under reconstruction at the time), i used to say this joke to squeeze more tips outta the gullible americans:
“and now we’re going by the Royal Ontario Museum, or the ROM as we like to call it. now as you can see, it’s still under reconstruction, but as you all know… ROM wasn’t built in a day.”
wocka wocka wocka.
i also once worked at the Royal Conservatory of Music….. for one day. i quit that job by the stroke of 5pm.
they were filming some movie or tv show at Varsity Stadium. probably one of those crap canadian tv shows like Being Erica or Flashpoint. (ps sorry to all my actor/director/writer friends who are employed on said-shows. i wuv yoos guise).
annnnnd…. scene.
The #LoveAHeart Auction Heats Up
As many of you know, I’m going to be auctioned off to highest Valentine-y bidder at the Love A Heart charity event on February 9th. I blogged all the details last week.
Local rabble rouser and loveable shit disturber Zach Bussey (the infamous charlatan behind Ontario’s Sexiest Election Candidate campaign) has given a run-down of all the ladies on the auction block, how much you can expect to pay, and what you’ll get for your money.
Here’s what he had to say about yours-truly:
Christine Estima
@ChristineEstima
Everybody knows Christine. Show us your tweets Christine! (If you follow her, you’ll get that.) Christine is great company who always makes me laugh, and I’m like Stalin (or maybe Teller.. whichever one laughs less?) She also can spot graffiti from a mile away and keeps getting recognition for it *cough Toronto Star*.
I expect a conglomerate of buyers to pitch in and grab Christine for no less than $170.
That’s awfully kind and generous of him to say. Bussey was actually the very first person I ever met from Twitter IRL (he lent me a flip cam!) so he’s always gonna be one of mah boyeeez. He’s always polarizing and mouthy (remind you of anyone you know?), and had some choice words for some of the other ladies on the auction block, so read what he has to say, as a past-participant and current supporter.
Hope to see you all there! Let’s be Valentines!
Get your Heart-On at #LoveAHeart
Fellas, now is your chance to date me! ………………..
#tumbleweed
#cough
I’m being auctioned off for charity!…………………
Jeez, tough crowd.
Well anyway, click on the above image to get details on the Love A Heart event, where the hottest bachelors and bachelorettes in Toronto (and, uh, me) will be auctioned off to raise funds for the Heart & Stroke Foundation.
It takes place on February 9th and The Hideout (484 Queen Street West), doors at 8pm, cover is $5.
If you’re not interested in being dis gal’s Valentine, there are lots of other beauties on the auction block (I know almost all the gals, they’re pretty saucey). As for you ladies out there looking to buy a man-whore, I know almost all the guys being auctioned as well, and they are SEXY MO-FO’S! There’s even two professional athletes on the auction block, one from Toronto Rock (that’s our pro lacrosse team) and another from the Toronto Argonauts (pro football team, CFL)!
To top it off, there’ll be a live performance by Indie Music Week champions Tiny Danza.
It’s going to be a really fun night, even if you don’t want to bid, you can at least come say hi and introduce yourself! We’ll clink glasses and talk about graff!
And you’ll get to watch me sell-out for a fiver.
#Win
Freddie Mercury: the legend
i found this stencil of freddie mercury on queen street west not far from muchmusic.
it says “i won’t be a rock star. i will be a legend.” that’s mercury alright!
there’s no artist name next to it, and that QR code didn’t work (at least on my phone).
i feel like this stencil is missing something . . .
. . . something to make it more bad-ass and give it a little hellyeahfuckyeah.
much better.
Just In Time
the horseshoe moustache is thankfully gone now (this photo of us was taken during Movember), so at least my chin can take a break this weekend.
Enjoy your weekend (and all the rug-burns that comes with it), munchkins!
Just Lucky I Guess
Click the above image to read the latest column by SexyTypewriter (who happens to be one of my besties!) in The Toronto Sun. She gives me a wee shout-out in the middle of it.
“My friend Christine has a can’t-miss retort. When asked why she’s still single, she sweetly responds with, “Just lucky, I guess.”
LIKE A BOSS.
marigold
in polynesian culture, wearing a flower over your left ear indicates marital commitment. over your right ear indicates availability.
or is it the other way around?
the best revenge is a life well-lived
well over four years ago (closer to five, now that i think about it), i moved to London, England. I did it on a whim. i had finished my Masters degree, and realized that i wasn’t really doing anything in my life now that that milestone had been accomplished. i had backpacked around europe and the UK for two summers in a row, and i liked it over there. so within a few weeks of getting my Masters, i packed up apartment, threw my shit in storage, bought a one-way plane ticket, and off i went. no looking back.
but there was a hidden impetus behind this move which i’ve never really admitted to anyone.
a few months prior, i had gone through a heartache, probably the first real one of my life. it had happened while i was backpacking across europe, and he was british. it was a brief but whirlwind affair that, had it not happened to me, i wouldn’t have believed that kind of passion was possible beyond the phoney-baloney scripts of hollywood pictures.
really, i moved to the UK so that i could do something incredible, something magnanimous, something big that would propel me out of the realm of melancholy. it was the beginning of a pattern i would develop as an adult — when your heart breaks, do something massive, something stupid, something huge to get over it.
i didn’t have any friends or family in London. I didn’t know a soul.
that was a really exciting time for me. i was so bitten by the travel bug, that i had to move to the other side of the planet to satiate it. i was discovering who i was as a post-academia adult. i pushed myself out of my comfort zone.
and of course, when the fit hit the shan (see what i did there?), suddenly i found out what i was made of. i really miss those early days of wandering around london, not knowing anyone, trying to figure out how things worked…i was trying to jump into the flow of the creek without drowning.
that was the first ballsy thing i did that year.
the second was about ten months later when i filled out an application form to audition for a reality tv show, which we all know by now, i ended up being cast in, and shot a few months later, leading up to the television premiere a year later.
i’ve never admitted this on this blog before, but there was a hidden impetus behind this as well.
i had just gone through another bad breakup with an evil british male who broke my heart, but wouldn’t leave me alone. i ended it with him, but he knew i was still in love with him, and played on my vulnerabilities. as a result, for four months following our breakup, we were still in each others lives, weekly.
it was confusing, it was soul-destroying, pride-swallowing, and it made things more complicated and painful than they needed to be.
i was angry.
i’ve always told the story that as i was surfing through the channel 4 website one day, i found the call for applicants to the reality tv show, filled in the application without much thought or care, and sent it in.
that’s not entirely true.
i was actively looking for any and all call for applicants to any tv show i could find. i just happened to find the right one for me.
i was in the right place, at the right time, and with a stroke of pure, dumb luck, my wish to be on television somehow was granted.
why was i looking to get on television?
because FUCK HIM that’s why.
again, my heart was broken, and i really wanted to do something huge to show that my life was amazing, and he was missing out on the best part. he actually told me when i was cast in the show that he would sell our story to the tabloids. he never did. the show had really high ratings (so much so, that i was being recognized on the street, and it got a bit invasive), but it tanked with the critics, so the tabloids probably weren’t interested.
since then, the pattern has remained true. with every heart break that i suffer (and i always seem to be the sufferer), i go off and do something impulsive and beyond the norm. i force myself to do incredible things.
i can sit there and say that i live a life less ordinary, and that would be true. but the impetus behind each amazing experience i’ve had (global media campaigns, backpacking around the world, having my work published, winning awards, bungee jumping, acting in movies, et.al.) has not been comprised of the utmost purity.
but really, who cares about the “how” or “why” of it all?
my philosophy is — don’t worry about why
especially when what is right in front of you.
or even better….. who.
if you’re having boy problems, i feel bad for ya, hun
i’ve blogged before about how a lot of men use DM (ie Direct Message on Twitter) as a dating service, and i’ll usually get something every few days from some creepy putz looking to score.
occupational hazard, i suppose.
i don’t know if this next guy is one of the aforementioned creeps, or if he’s just being nice…. but this one was a pleasant series of DMs (copied from Tweetdeck). granted, if you’re on the outside looking in, it could just seem like he’s stroking my ego and telling me what i want to hear.
but sometimes you need to hear that stuff. especially if you’re just emerging from a really dark period, like i have been.
can’t argue with that.
ha! okay okay, in all seriousness, despite all the bravado that i may emit on this blog, i really am a nice person. i think i’m fun, and sweet, and thoughtful, and fun to talk to, and fun to hang with. so even though it sounds like pompous arrogance to agree with what he says (modesty is a virtue, modesty is a virtue, MODEST IS A VIRTUE), it’s about time i stop deflecting other people’s compliments and start affirming them instead. maybe accepting someone’s compliment DOESN’T make me conceited?
he says the dudes who “woo” me are lucky.
they are. they just don’t know it. having is not so pleasing as wanting.
besides, there’s always more where that came from….
RESUME BRAVADO!
i’ve had some great love affairs.
and there’s always room for more.
* * *
(making this GIF was so much fun)
we spies. we slow hands. killer for hire, you know not yourself
in the middle of the night, i am the girl biking in and out of toronto alleyways. my basket carries music, sending the raccoons scurrying behind wheelie bins and the cats under mufflers. the pavement echoes the grind of my chain and my voice, cooing. i look up to the sky, which is gauzed behind the strobe of tree tops and aching branches.
my thighs burn acid, and i need to go alkaline without the alchemy.
my body is in a constant state of metallurgy.
since my above The Grid article came out, it’s been the top story on their website, see:
if you haven’t checked it out yet, do it now.
fitting that as soon as my Rob Ford graffiti photos are published, Deadboy comes out with a new batch of Ford pieces that are so brilliant, it’s as if stephen hawking, a messiah, and gandalf made a spawn.
Deadboy, you are made of perfect jesus wizard sauce.
seriously, he is making some of the most thought-provoking street art in toronto.
he let me know the locations of his new work: Rob Ford and Doug Ford aka Tweedledee & Tweedledum:
an alleyway near Ossington and Humbert.
Queen Street West and Claremont
“Graffiti isn’t the problem. It’s society not knowing what to do with artists . . . Oh look, there’s a rose. LET’S PAVE OVER IT.”
-Ron English
Chinatown/Kensington Market
i have some exciting news to announce (and more which i cannot announce just yet, as it’s still in the works… suffice it to say, September is going to be an exciting month).
the first is that Ford Canada is lending me car for labour day weekend.
yes, you read that right.
sometimes having a social media presence has untold perks, which has slowly begun to reveal itself to me.
they approached me with the offer, and we’ve been ironing out the details for a while. so what am i going to do with a luxurious hybrid from september 1-6th?
i’m driving to montreal.
i haven’t been back to la belle province, the place of my birth, since 2005, so i am long overdue.
and you will witness the rediscovery of my hometown, as i will be blogging, vlogging, and tweeting the snot outta this trip!
thanks Ford Canada and the good peeps at National (hi matt!). we fit together like the ignition and the key.
vroom vroom.
i always thought “Adam’s Apple” was a strange name.
eve gave adam a forbidden fruit, he swallowed it, and desire caused their expulsion.
now, men must forever carry lust in their throats.
and isn’t it just so apropos that women, naturally, are rather good at bobbing for apples.
a conversation i overheard this week:
Gal #1: “I’m from the south, flirting is part of my heritage!”
Gal #2: “What does that mean?”
Gal #3: “It means her mother was a slut too.”
my past few posts have detailed the good bike project here in toronto, and here are more finds to add to the growing list of fluorescent cycles peppering the city, adding flavour.
this albany find was particularly important to me.
if you don’t know, jane jacobs was a local activist & urban planner who singlehandedly prevented the spadina expressway from ruining toronto-the-good. without her intervention, the city would have erected that gaudy monstrosity, destroying homes, communities, urban flow, cultural contentment….and even this blog.
odd that the albany-jane-jacobs bike wasn’t placed on spadina….
i see this “TOKYO!” tag all over the city, although many of their occurrences have been painted over or blasted off since the spring.
as Rob and i spent a night pushing our dead-body bikes across Bloor street, we came across this virtually untouched tag.
i cannot pass this tag without humming this chorus. it’s like a tick.
…where the demons from my past leave me in peace.
this is better than “stop, hammertime.”
the first photo at the very top of this post was an outtake. i’d heard a beautiful mural of a couple kissing was going up near Bloor and Bathurst, and snuck around the area at night to photograph it. My camera kept going out of focus right when the shutter clicked.
so i decided to make something out of the outtakes (creativity always affects something previously thought unusable. there are no lost causes).
hence, the photo at the very top.
and this one below.
can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart and soul? this is a wasteland now.
my next girl will be nothing like my ex girl; i made mistakes back then, i’ll never do it again
nicely done, deadboy
* * *
EDIT!!
guess who just sold the above photo, along with many other of my Rob Ford graffiti photos, to The Grid! I love adding “photographer” to my growing portfolio. Check out the spread here, munckins!
* * *
sometimes i share the emails i get here, sometimes not, but this one came with the tacit authority to share, and it’s rather lovely, so why not.
Hello!
My goodness! I’ve just spent the past three hours reading through your blog and I’m still not finished. Now I see you’re on Twitter, as well. Where do you find the time?
I “stumbled upon” your blog while browsing something totally unrelated (don’t know how Google always manage to do that) and I was so intrigued (yes, it was because of a photo of you) that I decided to peruse through it. Very entertaining, indeed. Informative at times… even inspiring (the bit about eating healthy). There’s so much material to cover that I doubt I will get to it all.
Portuguese and Lebanese, eh? I see it now. Beautiful combination. You kinda got that Nelly Furtado-Kim Kardashian thing going on, eh (Apologies if you can’t stand those two!).
Another thing from your blog which stood out in my mind is the part about how you would fill in the blank to end the sentence on the picture you saw at the hipster house party. I thought your response was brilliant. Deep with a dash of humour. I wonder how many people actually got it? I also made note of the part where you blogged about traveling to NYC because of a love interest but things didn’t go well and you were left crying on the steps of Union Square? I assume figuratively and not literally because, His loss, I assure you!
Anyway, it’s been fun reading. All the best to ya!
-”AWspicious”
fanks mate. for the record, i didn’t travel to NYC last summer for the guy, but i’ve known him for years and he’s always good for givin’r, so he just factored in to the trip. he’s in a relationship right now, so when i went to NYC earlier this year, i didn’t bother contacting him. if i did, the response would be silence. but if i’m being honest, he was probably one of the greatest longstanding affairs i’ve ever had.
technically, that’s not saying much.
and fanks for the “his loss” bit . . . it’s not his loss just yet, but give me some time, and it will be.
Banksy’s latest, in response to the News Of The World phone hacking scandal.
last week, i collaged about “the good bike” project here in toronto, which has been getting so much attention not just around town, over the pond in the UK, the guardian has even taken notice of our Mayoral clusterfuck.
anyway, here’s another find. this is the first blue one i’ve found, it was on bloor near dovercourt. i want to find the green “jane jacobs” one, anyone know where that’s located? i know it’s on Albany, but where?
i still need a name for my new bike (since my old bike Bea Arthur was totaled by a raging syphilis-cyclist, i hope she dies of a rectum rash), but i’m leaning toward calling it Aunty Edna. old lady names for bikes=boom goes the dynamite.
this is the mural at luna cafe on dovercourt and argyle. i always ride Aunty Edna past this lovely converted grocers, and i adore how they have kept some of the grocer’s painted adverts on the window. gives it such a great feel. people who live in and around argyle street are so lucky. i want to live there, the area kiboshes the annex.
text messages from august 10th:
mr k: your mind shines as brightly as your eyes do.
me: how is it you always know just what to say?
mr k: i just kinda adore you so it’s natural… everything about you just feels so organic. you blow my mind.
at the Ali Baba falafel place on bloor street with nate, a delightfully schizo’d woman heard me say that i was portuguese, so she came over and said that i was a beautiful portu-geezer, and proceeded to kiss my head about 16 or 17 times. i actually don’t think i processed what she was doing. i kind of tuned out, not even realizing it was awkward or weird. i let her kiss my hair, and stared at a point on the street outside the window.
it felt like everything and anything, except like what it was.
this photo was taken last year at the TedxTO afterparty, but i was only recently tagged in it on facebook. i don’t at all remember taking this shot, or frankly, who the dudes in it are. Reg, any clues?
i’m such a glad-hander.
i’ve blogged about fauxreel twice before, but this old piece of his from 2009 that went up in our fair city still gives me pause.
i was at a funeral once. as is expected, it was a very sombre, melancholy event. it was a hot july day, and the church had left the windows open for ventilation. as family members came forward to give their speeches, a car outside on the street was blasting its crap music (as most low rider douchebags who drag The Danforth are known to do). unfortunately, it was this song. the fucking car was stopped at a really long red-light outside, and because all the church windows were open, the song invaded the ceremony. we were trying to have this respectful, reflexive, and downright sad experience to mourn the loss of life…
…and instead, we were paralyzed with a case of the giggles. everyone had their hands over their mouths, unsure of whether to choke back tears, or choke on our cackles.
horribly hilarious, i was uncontrollably laughing at a funeral.
that’s what going to Moth-Up the other day was like.
someone walked by me, pretending not to see me. But seeing as how i’m an adult, i made the courteous move to say hello. i had forgotten that we weren’t talking … and now i remember why.
in hindsight, i probably should have checked the FB event page to see who would be at Moth Up so i could have avoided it altogether, but i have completely given up stalking on FB. if people didn’t show up in my FB newsfeed, i’d never know what others are up to. i absotively posulutely refuse to look at anybody’s profile but my own. i have extended this ban from FB to twitter, and even some blogs. … mostly, because i couldn’t give a shit.
luckily, i was with someone worthy of my attention. we giggled like conspirators well into the night, actually leaving the event early for more one-on-one.
we bounded out the door, taking the steps two at a time, and disappeared into the velvet black of midnight… i didn’t bother to take notice of what i left behind.
life is right in any case.
and my heart is open as the sky.
“your mind shines as brightly as your eyes do.”
can i make it better with the lights turned on?
this video was made at Lindsey Kelk’s book launch, and they interviewed me (along with Val Stachurski and Erin Bury, among others) about dating.
vicki blogged about this, a tofu dish to beat out all other tofuckery attempts.
i guess The Toronto Star felt my tweeting was newsworthy.
this was the day i nearly passed out from dehydration. 38 degrees celsius in toronto, but with the humidex, it feels like 50 (reminding me of my time in india), and people still are keeping their babies and dogs locked up in the car. i sat on the benches outside of Hibiscus for an hour, trying to pull my shit together, and garner enough energy to stand. people walked by in fluorescent colours, and i was about to fall on my knees without the pleasure of praying.
i tweeted the above when i finally stood up, and wandered around trying to find a convenience store. i refuse to go to the one at the corner of augusta and college, because that schmuck behind the counter always eyes me up like i’m a five-finger-discounter, when all i want is a popsicle. so i wandered like a flaneur, until i found myself on ossington, sitting on the patio of iDeal coffee, looking at people ride by on their bicycles.
i nearly capsized.
my nose was stinging, my chin collapsing, but i didn’t cry.
* * *
you’ll remember a while back when i blogged about finding this beautiful piece of street art by deadboy, and because of that blog post, him and i kind of struck up a correspondence. well he recently let me know that some of his new work is up, and sent me on a scavenger hunt to find them…
deaboy’s clever raccoon is up in kensington market, go for a scour of the alleyways there, you’ll find his scrawlings, and some other vibrant work.
i think many people are afraid of venturing alone in alleyways. i’ve been doing it alone during the day and at night, and lately, i’m feeling safer in the alleys than out in the street. even the crooks and thieves are afraid of the alleys, no one runs behind the tall, shadowed walls anymore. except the artists.
this is very The Shadow-esque. who knows what evil lurks in the heart of men? hahaha, what a shit movie.
dude is swallowing what flows from the gas pump.
don’t we all.
see the bird above the tim hortons? i’ve seen that bird before, it was up near the bathurst street theatre during the fringe festival, but didn’t get a chance to photograph it. is it still there?
this reminds me of some graffiti that i found in bosnia-herzegovina when i was there in 2008….in the city of mostar…
sometimes toronto has the same amount of decay and destruction to it, and we haven’t even been in a war.
someone has copied shepard fairey’s Obey style
i’m working on it….
i’m not sure exactly from this stencil who this cigar smoking guy is supposed to be. i’m assuming he’s a politician or political figure of some sort.
whoever he is, the street artist behind him has sprayed him all over kensington market.
here he is again…
…and again!
hey street artist behind this stencil! contact me! i wanna hear about your work. let’s be friennnnnnnnnnnds. oh i see a heart underneath the stencil. gee, i wonder who that is….
this Busk guy with Groucho Marx’s face is everywhere. i photographed him once before, but he’s all over the city, if you know to keep your eyes up.
that’s the thing about street art: once you’ve trained yourself, as i have, to keep your eyes up instead of down at the sidewalk, you won’t be able to NOT notice them anymore. you’ll realize that it’s everywhere, and there’s always new spots, new corners, new walls, new lamp posts, new targets. i think it’s only a matter of time before i start stirring the wheatpaste in the pot, grab a long-handled broom, and beat the street sometime past 3am with subterfuge burning underneath the hood of my eyes.
i agree with this statement.
like rose tombstones.
it’s the syntax that lying.
night.
day.
i ran into someone the other evening in the distillery district which gave me reason to pause.
at first, i wasn’t sure that it was him. so i kept walking out the door into the brimstone temperatures of the bricks.
then i stopped, paused, turned around on my heel, and marched right back up to him in the air-conned lobby.
it had been months since i’d seen him, well before my spring NYClusterfuck. he had texted me last month, but i froze up upon receiving it, not knowing how to respond, so i remained silent.
we chatted pleasantly like god was stuck in our throats. With the mutual circles we run in, it’s a safe wager that he could continually be within striking distance.
very tricky.
what a clever juxtaposition.
those fucking kids.
all i see is hope.
* * *
even when you know the way it’s gonna blow, it’s hard to get around the wind
i can’t log on to Facebook or Twitter anymore these days without feeling like a piece of meat thrown into a lion’s den.
the following Twitter DMs and Facebook messages all arrived ON THE SAME DAY from different men that I either don’t know at all (as in, COMPLETE STRANGERS), or barely know peripherally.
i feel like i am being fondled by the very rattle snake whose venom is replacing my blood with nothingness.
*NAME REMOVED* Friend Request
Have you ever considered modeling?
Christine Estima
You’ll forgive me if this comes across as rude, but why do you ask? And how do I know you?
*NAME REMOVED*
I was just going through the “People You May Know” section and saw your picture. In fact, your dress caught my eye. Where did you get the dress? I don’t seem remember if we actually do know one another. I have some links in modeling agencies and your pictures was outstanding and I can envision you as a supermodel. You are pretty – That’s just it.
Christine Estima
That’s awfully kind of you to say but im not interested in modelling, thanks!
*NAME REMOVED*
That’s what my heart is saying… It’s ultimiately your decision. We can be friends though?
“as cool as the pale wet leaves of lily-of-the-valley she lay beside me in the dews.”
Subject: Hotness.
*NAME REMOVED*
You have been drunkenly messaged. I don’t have your digits or it would’ve been a drunken call. Hope all is well gorgeous.
*NAME REMOVED EN FRANCAIS*
JTM Christine, tu excessivement belle tu prends en otage mon coeur. sur ce je souhaite fonder avec toi une relation amoureuse durable.
(for those of you that don’t speak french, this translates to, “I love you Christine, you are exceedingly beautiful, you have taken my heart hostage. I wish to forge a longterm romantic relationship with you.”)
*NAME REMOVED*
well now that you are underemployed and single … if you need an acomplace for some summertime hyjinx lemme know, my schedule is pretty flexible.
*NAME REMOVED*
two things: I will never lie to you and I’ll never mislead your emotions for sex
*NAME REMOVED*
beyond that, I’m drunk right now, which I know you’re not. I’m still interested in you because you are different then most girls.
christineestima
thats sweet & im flattered but i dont date twitter ppl. i dont know u or anything bout u.
*NAME REMOVED*
I’m not looking for a gf, and “date” doesn’t preclude “meet”. Further “meet” doesn’t include “sex”. There is no “taking advantage” of you
*NAME REMOVED*
*exclude not preclude
*NAME REMOVED*
We’re at least 15 dates away before we’d ever talk about a relationship
christineestima
you’re a nice guy but i’ve already given you my answer
*NAME REMOVED*
well at least I’ve defended my gender 
. You keep bringing up “date” which is significantly different than “meet” which will eventually…
*NAME REMOVED*
happen, statistical likelihood – It’s truly fine if you don’t want to meet me, but don’t use twitter as an excuse, it belittles us both
christineestima
if u want to “meet” then come out to the tweet ups. you’ll “meet” lots of people. toronto is a big city, there is no statistical likelihood. Also, i don’t use twitter as a dating service. if u do, don’t force it upon me
christineestima
im tryin to be nice here, but you keep forcing the point. how many times do i have to say i’m not interested? pls just let me be.
*NAME REMOVED*
Actually just once, but you have to say the words. I personally hate innuendo of any kind. Enjoy your life
the gay Pride parade was amazing. First I saw this license plate (Simsimas) which is basically my full name! (say Christine Estima 5 times really fast, this is what you get). Sim Simma! Who got da keys to mah beemah?
Martin wore this amazing tshirt which garnered a lot of adoration in the gaybourhood.
then this happened.
i took this photo with my blackberry and it went semi-viral. In 24 hours, it generated over 1,300 hits. Not exactly viral, but within the toronto community, it`s pretty safe to say a lot of Pride-goers have seen this.
i was going to say something here about the obviousness of this photo, but i have decided that, in the spirit of Pride, and inclusion, and community, and non-discrimination, i am just going to say that i think it’s great that not everyone has the same kind of body shame and issues as most people do.
Pride is about encouraging everyone to love themselves just the way they are.
so whatever you may think about the aesthetics of this person, you gotta admire their chutzpah.
i ran into gregory alan elliott in kensington market the day after i snapped this photo during Pride. i hadn’t seen him since this when we met over on ossington. it seems that running into him has book-ended this period of my life. i saw him right before, and i see him immediately after a lot of shit has gone down.
anyway, he gave me a poster he made that says “Circus-Sized Peanuts.” fricken clever, hombre. he said he wanted to give it to me because it’s the same kind of turn of phrase as “The Spadina Monologues.”
i guess i made an impression.
i also ran into timothy, one of the players from my Indian clusterfuck two years ago. we were both as yes yes ya’ll, a gay hip hop event in the annex during Pride weekend. he licked my arse and made it seem like he didn’t try to make my life a living hell. he even said that he thought of me recently when rachel weisz and daniel craig wed, because he had told me when we were in Jaipur that i look like Rachel Weisz.
i wasn’t impressed.
years ago, i had a patrick marber quote at the bottom of this blog that read, “lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off.”
replace “lying” with “graffiti,” that’s the current state of mind.
and maybe, even “slaughter.”
it might not hurt now, but it’s gonna hurt soon
“christine wakes up every morning in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar man….”
it’s going to be a hot july full of tentative gestures, open roads, bicycles crashing, loud singing, teeth lightly scraping, and a few burns.
we went for a drink at atelier cafe on king street west, and he wore the kind of suit you’d expect for the area. he followed the fashion to the letter, and could have been a tear-page from a look-book. i wanted to dig my knuckles into his jaw, like talons to a field mouse.
his apartment was a cubby hole with an empty refrigerator, except condiments, and two jars of peanut butter. “shall we?” i asked, and led him out to the lamp factory outlet and the back alleys.
we looked at graffiti and he copped an attitude as he pushed me up against a locked garage. the alleys and windows remained quiet and drawn. if we threw rocks, they were only aimed at the backs of each others throats. he went jugular, and therefore i had to.
rob ford spermatozoa
a doorway to nowhere.
that’s exactly what he was as well.
i ignored his text messages all weekend as if i were reluctantly using windshield wipers in a rainstorm.
he got the message.
i think this was on rusholme, north of college street, but it could have been delaware, or havelock…somewhere near dovercourt. anywhere near dovercourt. i seem to be flocking westward, thinking the ostrich will de-sand her head upon my arrival.
i am pretending that red blotch above their embrace is a speech bubble just waiting to be filled.
fill in the caption. like how The New Yorker does it below:
the bird is out of the cage. she is being gripped by bodyless hands.
the cat is ruled by hormones.
all of the above??
i think of words in foreign languages, the expression of rubbing one head with another that resembles a happy-cry, standing in a kitchen with a cupped face, the black bull and being missed. i think of a saturday night well past midnight and being tortured by phone calls. they dig at my brain, asking who the fuck do i think i am? at this age, i should know by now. i told ya so tattoo’d on the white parts of my eye.
you look like you’ve been for breakfast at the heartbreak hotel and sat in the back booth by the pamphlets and the literature on how to lose. your waitress was miserable and so was your food.
i’m not the kind of fool who’s gonna sit and sing to you about stars, but last night i looked up into the dark half of the blue and they’d gone backwards. something in your magnetism must have pissed them off, forcing them to get an early night.
stop the odyssey, i want to get off
(#ThatsWhatSheSaid)
* * *
i think my heart just burst open.
i heard the piledriver’s waltz, it woke me up this morning
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: having a social life.
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: rain, no matter how nice it makes the grass smell.
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: walking through High Park with one of your best friends, checking out geese, turtles, and swans.
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: a Stepford wife prancing about in come-fuck-me heels, and sporting a face that looks like a campaign poster for neglected horses.
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: sucking on a popsicle and getting popsicle-tongue 
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: having to tell someone to calm the fuck down and speak to you the way you’re speaking to them (because that’s how adults behave).
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: watching people lose their cool and completely wig out. (high-larious!)
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: censorship
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: being told that your writing is on par with Michael Ondaatje
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: time lost.
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: waking up leisurely to the sun, having a Timmy‘s cuppa, hopping on your bicycle with the front wicker basket and yellow flowers, and writing in your journal at The Common
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: every time something funny happens to me, i always want to tell you . . . and then i remember that we’re not talking.
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: http://youtu.be/hdJUuJWf2XM
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: having trouble coming up with another one of these…..ummm…….
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: The Big Chill and Taste Of Little Italy
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT: …..errr……..seriously, what’s another thing that’s not great in my life right now?
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: so many opportunities falling into my lap, and people coming into my life at just the right time.
THINGS THAT ARE NOT GREAT:……….
THINGS THAT ARE GREAT: life, and it just keeps getting better.
* * *
some great street art and graffiti hauls this week.
i am continually inspired by the artists in toronto, defying conventions, fucking-the-lot … jail be damned.
Vicki calls this “the god of high park.”
well done, mr partridge. you sir are a rembrandt.
found some retro video game love on dovercourt. see it?
jarvis and i found this pillar next to ronnie’s local in kensington market.
“don’t cry. bike!”
“make good choices.”
that’s ALL i’ve been doing lately….well, in actual fact, they’re not necessarily ‘good,’ but hey, they’re choices.
* * *
Rich Lam’s photo (via Getty) of the Vancouver riots.
He shoots.
They score.
I saw your fingers dimming in the lights, like you’re used to being told that you’re trouble, and I spent all night stuck on the puzzle
will i see you at Tweetgasm this monday night? i’ll be the gal with her poster on the wall. wear pink, you pinkos.
Check out my film review of Beautiful Boy, starring Michael Sheen and Maria Bello. I fucking hated it, and totally tore it a new asshole. Whatever guy, sometimes there’s pressure to “like” a film just because it’s shot nicely and deals with some sad themes, but us film critics gotta stick to our guns. I’m sure director Shawn Ku will go far, I just didn’t have the patience to sit through a two hour actor’s wankfest. Disagree with my critique? Don’t tell me, tell the internet. Oh by the way, all other film critics agree with me.
it’s awfully quiet around here since i made some changes. they say that you’d shouldn’t do anything in life that doesn’t result in money or an orgasm.
i disagree.
give me another week or so. essentially i’ve sacrificed both of the aforementioned for happiness.
i think i made the right choice. especially since, in both cases, i was being taken advantage of.
and in both cases, i deserve better than the offer on the table.
have you guys seen this? the music makes my heart ache like it’s just been scraped out clean, until it’s raw and seething red to the touch. and the visuals make me dippy-stupid-bittersweet. watch.
you’ve been warned, boys.
abandon hope all ye who enter me.
* * *
some great street art hauls this week. so i was wandering through some back alleys in little italy and found this scary little guy with the FDOE on him
and then i found this stick on a street sign on bloor near walmer. so i figured this guy was about to blow up the city, and shizzle was i ever right.
this week, the FDOE dude has exploded across queen street west near augusta. although the basis of each wheatpaste is the same, whoever the FDOE artist is, he took the time to make each print somewhat different. it’s the red spatterings that make each one unique.
they look almost like crime scenes. i love it. and the classic gold framings give it that little extra something. highly stylized work. nicely done dude!
so FDOE, who are you? contact me! let’s be friends!
it’s no secret now that i’m a sheppard fairey fan. and also a fan of that anonymous Fordzilla guy. so i’m walking through kensington market and i find an amalgamation of both of my loves. do you see it up on the sign? look closer…
fashioned like a sheppard fairey Obey sticker, but with rob ford’s face, and the word GRAVY!! OMG BRAINSPLOSION!! i love this little guy so much!
Fordzilla are you behind this? if not, who is? i have yet to see more of these stickers, so please keep up your attack on the streets.
i’m going to pretend that whoever chalked this into the sidewalk (spadina, south of dundas) was being facetious. all art is political.
* * *
Ernest Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
that’s goddamn right.
Realizing you’ve been a fool is one thing. Realizing you’ll always be a fool is another thing altogether
hipster douchebag café art exhibit full of glittering assholes who appreciate art.
“It’s a lie. It’s a bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully, and all the glittering assholes who appreciate art say it’s beautiful ’cause that’s what they wanna see. But the people in the photos are sad, and alone. But the pictures make the world seem beautiful, so the exhibition is reassuring which makes it a lie,
and everyone loves a big fat lie.”
truth be told, i am one of those hipster douchebag pretentious fuckwits. i love this work.
“i don’t like the black earring! think if i ask her, she’ll edit out the black earring?”
let’s play spot-the-douchebag-sailor.
* * *
HER: “do you feel anything for me?”
HIM: “well… i’m sexually attracted to you.”
that response …. nothing could have hurt her more.
she got off the phone but she didn’t cry. she lay her head down and stared at the ceiling.
there is nothing left to say, she thought. and if there is, those things are better said with the lights off.
so she kept the lights on all night.
he was so clever.
he really had her going.
well played, sir. rookie mistake.
he got what he wanted. and they both get to live with it.
but lucky for her, she has yet to meet a man she couldn’t live without.
* * *
many of you in toronto’s social media (and love to gossip) know of the Nat & Marie show, a popular uStream show which talks about what’s hot in viral videos, social media, memes, and every thing that’s hot online. Nat was away this past week, so Marie asked me to couch it up with her on the UBC (urban barn couch), and we had a really great show together. you can watch the whole thing in its entirety here, i think i did rather well as i’d never done live broadcasting before (other than the times i’ve been interviewed on talkshows and the news).
of course, knowing me, at the 50 minute mark, i start going off on why i love graffiti and street art.
and at the 1 hour 23 minute mark, i say some foul-mouthed awesomeness.
really the only reason Marie brought me on the show was because i forced her.
Marie and I are members of the League of Awesome Brunettes.
too many people give blondes all the garlands. we dispel that myth that blondes have more fun. i say, blondes only have more fungus.
watch our epic show together in its entirety below:
* * *
i never forget a pussy.
these gorgeous pussies. i house sat for them this week. Welcome to LOLcatsville. Population: deux.
I CAN HAZ CHEESEBURGER
* * *
street art bringing on the panic attack:
found this off of dundas west when i went for an after-work jog. if it weren’t for all the dundas west construction, i may not have found this.
this is near the entrance to the green room.
i doff my hat to you, sir.
* * *
you can’t tell my mouth is full of scones, can you?
love you vicki.
* * *
i tell len that i think the sexiest parts of my body are my brain, my guts, and my spine.
len says, “your heart’s pretty hot too. i’d know. it’s a big one. and your chin, ‘cos you can take a punch.”
don’t sit down ‘cos i’ve moved your chair
YOU STILL HAVE 3 DAYS to enter The Submarine Contest, sponsored by Alliance Films and The Spadina Monologues. Get a pass for you and a friend to attend the advanced screening of Submarine, and you could win a prize pack as well! clicky the poster for your chance to be a wiener winner.
* * *
i was invited to the Pepsi Throwback event in Toronto.
the weird thing about having a rising stock in the social media world is you get invited to so many events, it’s kinda redonkulous. i’ve always said that as a writer, were it not for twitter, i would have no social life. so i try to go out to as many events as possible. and i like the fact that after years of my crazy ramblings and musings, i have leveraged my online presence into something that provides a constant stream of super fun happy times at someone else’s dime. but at the same, i’m a bit of a jovial anarchist.
jovial in that, well, i’m a generally happy person with a penchant for the shits n’ giggles.
anarchist in that, well, i don’t believe in promoting brand-awareness, and my body is an advertisement-free zone. seriously. next time you see me, try and find a single brand on me.
i shop no-names exclusively, and if i do have a brand, i bought it second-hand for 50 cents.
but when you’re in social media, everybody is for sale, and brands want to buy you. everybody is willing to drink the brand kool-aid for the right price.
now, that’s not to say there’s something inherently wrong with that. everybody needs to eat, and if you can paid just on the popularity of your blog or twitter or tumblr or whatever, then more power to you.
but i think too many people follow the formula of CONSUME. STAY QUIET. DIE.
stop buying. start living.
regina won the best dressed female costume competition, and it was well deserved. hottie pulled a Filipino madonna, and she got game.
here’s reg and i dancing at the event. she is a normal dancer. i am a fembot.
raymi says, “me and christine. how far do we go back? since before twitter, her name is synonymous with spadina monologues i think she trickled in around the MG days? did you know christine also made her way onto a reality show on a tropical island to boss around men and it was broadcast in the uk or something? huge. ask her about it. maybe that’s why she does that british accent voice? (stop doing that sorry ilu but be you) anyway i love this broad and am proud she’s a lifer like me, it’s good to see her face in the scene.”
i swear if i do a brit accent, i’m not aware. SWEARSIES. i love you luh-ren THIS MUCH. raymbo gives me a grizzle in my vizzle tizzle fo’shizzle.
playing air-guitar-leg. i am so attractive. oh hai katie!
rannie takes the greatest photos. i look so happy and my hair is the stuff of Pantene commercials. i’m doing the running man here. either that, or the roger rabbit. should i make this my FB profile photo? you tells me.
scott’s arms go on and on and on. like, if this photo’s proportions are to believed, scott must tuck his hands into his socks.
there’s nothing about sheldon that isn’t made of wizard juice.
photographers at this place weren’t on their game, they needed to sort their tech shit out, so i handed mr levy my blackberry and we busted out these hot shots, our hands were in inappropriate places, it was some sweet action.
some of the coolest people i know. raymi luh-ren, shawn, plankin-casie, scott, and my husband sheldon.
dan easily had the best 80s costume. he looks like van halen and miami vice just exploded all over him.
keshia chanté and madame stewart, cindy loo hoo?
i dunno what it is about scott, but his pepsi throwbacks bring all the boys to the yard.
i look awkwardly attractive here. most people know me as the gal with the curves, but here i look like my hips have teenaged-boy’d-out. wassup? where’s my crescent moon hips? not even a hint of a bosom! my breasteses are big. pinky swear.
i really like kelly and i really like this photo. her and i were rocking the onesie and we’re giving each other a solid. her boyfriend mark took this photo, and from this photo’s POV, you get a sense of just how fricken tall he is!
he doesn’t like to be blogged about. but how can i not post a photo of that face?
you guys see this? it’s called being one smooth mother fucker.
* * *
for the past couple of weeks, i’ve been riding on the back of an electric scooter on the weekends, and have whizzed past this above awesome mural that’s on an underpass near the junction.
that is, until this happened
literally kicking myself that i didn’t take the opportunity to photograph it (like i always do) when i had the chance. i loved this mural. LOVED IT.
check out the artist’s website and show him some support.
some street art and graffiti that i’ve managed to photograph lately, more to come!
it’s that time of year again when i get to house-sit!
last year i house-sat 4 times, this year so far i’ve done it twice, and now a third on the horizon.
will be downtown with a couple of putty-tats in little italy, just a bike ride away from work and the people who make me feel special about a little guy i like to call ME.
the lovely june weather makes me feel like my body is a boat, and you are traveling in me.
you try to fake it but you’re breaking every rule; right from the start you always made me feel a fool
A scorpion, when trapped in a fire, will sting itself.
But what do I do when trapped in the fire of my mind?
step-by-step fun with photo editing software starring christine louise estima as herself.
step 1: i take this photo.
step 2: i amplify and enhance this photo.
step 3: i put my quote on this photo.
step 4: you steal this photo.
sacha saw me on the subway. i only realized it was him later.
as he left, i grabbed my bag and chased after him with a lashing of apologies.
sometimes i am a dead girl.
Starving Artist vegan-gluten-free mini waffle brunch on May Two-Four long weekend when fireworks exploded the night sky… either that or the neighbours were pipe-bombing each other. this is the suburbs, so that’s a real possibility.
“Love!”
we found a ghetto scooter shop. the sales guy may or may not have wake n’ baked. his crooked teeth poked out of his gums like dead worms in a red delicious.
“love?”
i climbed on the back of the plastic vespa and exposed myself in a jean skirt. this is what’s between my legs.
“love….”
kensington market ate our rubber, and coppers on foot couldn’t force helmets. we traveled to the edge of Bloor where pastures eat dilapidated buildings like locusts. we sucked on cherry popsicles until our mouths were too icey pink to eat.
MOCA Banksy
oh Banksy, you really have lost the plot.
deadboy says to me via email:
‘This is only the beginning; I have much up my sleeve for this city!
(Insert crazy laughter here..lol)”
here are the details of his show, i will be there, and so should you!
Wunderland Gallery/espresso bar
1905 QUEEN ST. EAST
OPENING NIGHT RECEPTION JUNE 3rd 2011 at 7pm – 11pm
SHOW RUNS: JUNE 3rd – 30th 2011
beating of a million drums, the fire of a million guns, mother of a million sons: civilization
this week was Bike-To-Work Week, and as someone who regularly has bikegasms and cylejaculations, i was writing a bajillion essays and articles about it, many of which caused a serious amount of controversy.
the first was an essay i wrote about why i don’t wear bike helmets, even though i am afraid of being hurt in an accident, and it caused a bit of a clusterfuck (look at the comments!)
the second was an interview with james schwartz, who blogs at The Urban Country, who says that bike helmets actually scare people away from cycling altogether. he says he won’t wear a helmet until motorists and pedestrians do too. he was brilliant to interview, and if you look at the comments section, it really does raise some people’s ire.
***
my friend zach has posted the top 150 twitter influencers in toronto (according to Klout), and guess which lil lass made the top 150!
klout has never been immune to controversy, their ways of scoring influence, communication, interaction, and engagement are very arbitrary, and many people feel like they should be on that list, or higher in the ranks. the last time i checked my klout, maybe six months ago, it was much higher, like 64 or 65, but your score fluctuates with interaction. i think it’s pretty cool that in the 2+ years i’ve been on twitter, i’ve managed to leverage my crazy-ass-rantings into something that people actually pay attention to and read and want to follow. it’s pretty fun. but it’s also not something to put too much stock into. the argument that these klout scores create elitism and “stars” amongst a democratic platform like twitter is justified and has merit.
that being said, i’m kinda chuffed to have made the cut. brag brag brag, sorry (not sorry) i promise i won’t let this go to my head (not a guarantee).
when i posted this news on my facebook, i said “ I don’t know how much stock I should put into this, but this is pretty shits n’ giggles:)“
then some asshole who i know peripherally decided to assert his holier-than-thou pedantic musings of my perceived hype-believin’. it’s fucking incredible how people go out of their way to make you feel inferior. here’s the exchange:
like seriously, what was the point of putting that remark on my wall? if you want to just sweep in and shit all over people’s parades, why don’t you find a bunch of emo hipsters with neurotic insecurities to shark-attack, because…
I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY AWESOMENESS.
for all his “i’m not snarky” protestations, his facebook status said otherwise, which read “shut the fuck up about your Top 150 klout”. but what really made me laugh was what a fucking hypocrite he was- if you look at the comments on Zach’s original post, that same egomaniacal prima-donna who can only gain satisfaction from pointing out the shortcomings of others, was WHINING that he wasn’t included in the Top 150! i shit you not.
call me crazy, but not only does he have a chip on his shoulder, he wants to make sure other people feel shit about themselves for their recognition (albeit small & centralized recognition).
such a shame, ‘cos every time i had met with this guy in real life, he was totally cool, and seemed rather humble. once again, the internet allows for people’s true assholedom to emerge.
i went to Hip Hop Karaoke on friday, my first time there ever, although it’s a toronto institution. i can’t call myself a hip hop connoisseur, but luckily, it seemed like the crowd (save a few) had only a popular knowledge of hip hop, rather than an actual underground organic appreciation of it. no one sang any songs by artists i hadn’t heard before. and despite what 8-mile might tell you, the crowd was a varied demographic.
phil and i had been practicing our song for two weeks. TWO WEEKS PEOPLE, i was listening to it on a loop every morning while i dressed for work, on the commute, before i went to bed. i wanted to get this shit down. if you’re interested, this was the song we did. i did macy’s part (obvs), and phil did mos-def. that’s a lot of lyrics to learn.
the previous evening, phil and i had gone to a park and sang the song while people walked their dogs or ate on park benches. the evening had long fallen into the velvet-black of night, and we were still getting our tongues tied in the nooks and corners of it. some things came easy, other aspects were tentative and a bit slippery (am i still talking about the song?)
anyway, we went on around 1:30am when it was mostly the true hip hop fans left. stage-performance awareness set in, and we KILLED IT. we fucking murdered that song! last name WIN, first name EPIC! all the notes and lyrics and timing that we had fumbled over before just somehow stepped in line.
diggs, who recorded it all on video for us, told me the next day that he was really impressed with my performance. he said something along the lines of “i’ve seen a lot of people go up there, and i work in music so i know talent, and you were phenomenal” which of course made me feel super chuffed with myself (even though repeating it here makes me seem self-absorbed, which i refuse to admit to, although i seem to have no problem admitting it to you people).
frankly, i was more excited for phil. when we rehearsed, he had some timing problems and missed a few cues, but once we performed it on stage, he OWNED that shit. he was confident, he was enjoying it, he let go, and his performance was inspired. it was totally hot to watch.
when we finished the song, i started jumping up and down, giddy as a school girl, and we smashed into a hug.
hip hop karaoke, people.
you don’t know what you’re missing!
aw. bless.
the next day, we cycled the humber valley bike path, which i’d never done before. i was so used to the don valley river path, or the lakeshore path, it never occurred to me to check this one out. it’s pretty amazing. some parts are paved, other parts are pretty rough-hewn and dilapidated, but the scenery along the river is like something out of a henry david thoreau poem. the sun burned like brimstone on our backs, forcing popsicle breaks.
sweat burned my lips into a smile.
when you’re having a punch-drunk time, other people from your past can sense it. earlier this week, a person i had barely dated text messaged me. when we were hanging a few months ago, he was sweet, warm, and most importantly, unpretentious. he took me out for my birthday, which was lovely.
that was followed by two weeks of radio silence. so i figured, okay, he’s gone off me for whatever reason, good thing it ended before anyone’s feelings got hurt.
then out of the blue, he texted me, gushing with compliments, and an invitation for another lunch date.
i was confused, but i agreed, figuring maybe the dude was just busy or not attuned to proper etiquette following a kiss (although, considering he’s 41 years old, he should know better).
so he takes me out for lunch again, and it’s all lovely and what not. but then at the end of the lunch, he says that classic guy cop-out.
“I just don’t have the time to give you the attention you deserve.”
YAWN.
ya, ‘cos i can’t read between those lines.
dude basically made it crystal clear that he wasn’t interested in dating me or anything further than that. so i wrote him off AGAIN.
Iwent on my NYC extravaganza, came back to begin work at my new position….and that was all two and a half months ago. i haven’t even given him a second thought since i wrote him off, because there was no point. that was a dead end.
on facebook, i noticed that he’s remounting his one-man cabaret again in a couple weeks.
and then this week, out of the blue, i get this text from him , “hey gorgeous lady! how the eff are ya? R u around? wanna have lunch next week?“
OH LUCKY ME.
am i allowed to roll over and thank my lucky stars now?! you’re not sending me mixed messages at all, i don’t find your behaviour confusing, and i don’t think you’re jerking me around either exclamation point.
forget the 10 weeks of radio silence, and the blatant i-don’t-want-to-date-you sugar-coating. i don’t have a life, or a job, or other men interested in me at all. watch how fast i drop everything just to be in your good graces again. oh, and let’s not forget that your show is just a few weeks away….i mean, i don’t assume AT ALL that you’re merely contacting me so i’ll either blog or tweet about your show, and try to get more bums in seats. oh no! thought never crossed my mind at all.
you had your chance. NO THANKS.
to quote amy winehouse, what kind of fuckery is this?
i found another sheppard fairey! this one is a different version of his andre the giant obey sticker, but i saw this one many times on the streets of alphabet city whilst in NYC, so i know it’s his. WIN.
last week i blogged about this deadboy poster i found on queen street near augusta. this morning i wake up to this email:
“Hello Christine, deadboy here…
Thank you for the very kind words about my work on Queen St. West! You understood exactly what I was trying to get across… And in answer to your questions, Yes and yes… But I won’t bore you with details. Love your blog!I’m having my first solo show that runs from June 3-30.. I can send you more info if your interested.
Hope this letter finds you well…
Warm regards,
deadboywww.wix.com/torontostreetart/deadboy
(still working on this site…)”
YES I MOST DEFINITELY AM INTERESTED! how exciting!
check out his site people, the dude is wicked talented. when i get more info about his solo show, my munchkin readers will be the first to know.
also included in last week’s blog post was my discovery of a series of Mayor Rob “Fordzilla” Ford wheatpaste’s around town. the first one i found had the fat-godzilla mayor eating a streetcar (in reference to our mayor trying to destroy our sustainable public transit). the next one had him eating a spraypaint can (in reference to his war on street art and graffiti). earlier this week, i was walking through kensington market, and what do i find?
Fordzilla is eating a bike, in reference to his hatred of cyclists, and his assertion that if you’re a cyclist and you get hit by a car, it’s your own damn fault. i love how someone wrote on this Fordzilla “300 lbs of fun!!” because seriously, if rob ford actually got his morbidly obese ass on a bike once in a while, maybe he wouldn’t be a stones-throw from death. i can’t believe this fat, leotarded, mentally-stunted fucktard is our mayor. someone else drew in his hand the CN Tower. maybe the next Fordzilla wheatpaste i find will have him eating our tower as well?
FORDZILLA artist dude, you are my new hero. SERIOUSLY, i said this last week, but you need to contact me, you are fricken brilliant. let’s be friends!
don’t mind if i do.
