Evidence that the human mind is extremely prone to hallucination
Exhibit A! This FUBAR email I just received (name has been redacted to protect their privacy):
“No worries;
I’m really nobody who means anything to you or for that matter of fact not much to anyone unless they want something from me and as luck would have it I have what everyone wants so I guess I’m somebody, right ? Anywho I read your blog listened to you, and took you in as I became very aware you are me, OK maybe not me exactly but in other ways we are the same. I was born a long time ago with normal parents I think and a normal upbringing, well sorta. What I found out about myself I saw in you, yes in you, you see I am an artist who unlike many who are like me and those who wish they were, another words I am an artist that gets paid to be me. So am I me or a product of my environment ? I tend to think of myself as a plant at times and what does a plant need ? Water for one, some light here and there but most importantly I need love. Now at the moment I am not loved save for those who have what I have what I want but it always seems to have a price tag on it. So I do like myself because I am kind and patient, with a lot of emotions to spill here and there, what I am saying is I would like very much to have a friend like you. I am not asking for anything from you but to be a pal and a pair we would make. But who am I your are asking yourself……hm-mm well I am German of Persian decent (Oh I am not really a ******** I changed my name because so many hate Germans however everyone thinks I am Persian anyways) so like you we are Middle Eastern and I of olive complexion. Look Christine I don’t believe in accidents or coincidences as I am a Shia so I believe I needed to write you. Now this is what could happen from here, 1.) You can except my invitation to become friends or acquaintances or 2.) You can spam my email and wonder as you will was that guy a man I should have known, yet you’ll only know if you write me back and see where this going. Remember I ask of you for nothing that is unless you want to give me some light. Well anywho I bet your busy so I’ll say I have to go to save you the trouble of saying goodbye for now. Peace & Hugs – ******
PS: I found your blog when I was looking for images of Polynesian flowers for a client and there you were, I also want to add that your the prettiest Polynesian flower I found.”
————
Does anyone else smell Velveeta Barfaroni?
This is embarrassing for us both …. mostly him.
(PS since when did “no worries” become an accepted greeting? Did i miss an internet meme?)
Him: “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Me: “Trust me, we’re not meeting now.”
What the fuck is wrong with some guys? Seriously, all I did was say hello and happy new years and suddenly I have to fend off some stalkerazzi asshole’s inappropriate advances? Do I have a sign on my back that says “harrass me!”
At the New Years Eve party I attended (which was otherwise lovely, fanks to Guy Gal and Adil Dhalla for throwing a monster righteous evening!), I was introduced to a random fellow (his name and personal details have been redacted in order to protect his privacy) who is the roommate of a buddy of mine. I said hello and happy new years, as you do, and he said that we had met before.
I have never met this guy before in my life, of that I’m sure, but for the sake of being polite, I apologized for not remembering. He said that he is a fan of mine and follows me on Twitter.
Again, for the sake of being polite, I said that I would follow him back on Twitter, so I whip out my Blackberry and search for his profile. When it comes up, lo and behold, it turns out he, in fact, does NOT follow me on Twitter.
“Oh yeah, I unfollowed you because you tweet a lot,” he slurs.
Wow. Class-act, buddy. First lie about following me, and then insult me in the process.
So whatever, I barely blinked. This conversation was four minutes out of my night, and I didn’t even recall this conversation as an important one mere moments after it ended.
In fact, this guy in question had met MY DATE, saw us exercising our legs on the dancefloor, and relieving our basorexia at midnight. Ipso facto, he KNEW I was with someone, so why he thought sending me this DM on Twitter the following morning would IN ANY WAY peak my interest is beyond me.
It took me a few minutes to realize who this was, I barely even remembered this guy. Where am I? Come by for some champagne? Oh yes, please, allow me to drop everything and ditch my date WHOM I WAS STILL WITH and seek you out, oh high and mighty lord of the charming princes.
Before I could even respond, he sends:
LET’S PLAY????? Ewwwwwwwwwwww.
First of all, who the fuck do you think you are talking to a woman you just met like that?
Second of all, never did I, at any point, give you the impression that I was remotely interested in you, so you are suffering from some serious delusion to believe I’d be up for that.
Again, before I can even respond, he sends another:
Oh yay! Now that I have your address, I can roll over, thank my lucky stars, and run to you with my arms outstretched!!!
I don’t know what “I habe cava” means (it’s clearly not English), nor do I know what ” pros, and champs” is , so I’m not sure I can share in his excitement for that fact. But I assure you it’s probably not something I would have enjoyed anyway.
By this point, I was disgusted (and showing my date all of these messages, which garnered a few chuckles), so I politely but firmly wrote back:
There. Brutally honest but polite. Nipped it in the bud. I didn’t go out of my way to insult him, but neither did I girlishly laugh off his fuckery. Let him know in less than 140 characters that I wasn’t interested.
For any normal person, they would have gotten the hint and left well enough alone.
Unfortunately, this fucktard ain’t normal.
First he replies:
OH OF COURSE! Naturally, “let’s play” means “a drink and a chat!” OBVIOUSLY! I don’t know HOW I could have read into that and gotten it all wrong! MY BAD.
Seriously, how stupid do you think I am?
I was satisfied, however, that he said “its understood” so I was hoping that would be the end of it.
Nope.
Without me replying to his message, he sends again:
First of all, don’t call me “love.” I am not your “love.” I am no man’s “love.” MY NAME IS CHRISTINE.
Secondly, it’s not that we “didn’t have enough time to chat,” it’s that I had absolutely no inclination whatsoever to speak to you beyond our initial introduction. You make it sound like the cosmos were conspiring against us, preventing us from being together. Fuck off with that ludicrous delusion that’s not based in any kind of reality.
Furthermore, “another life, we’ll be cool?” OH YES, YOU AND I WILL MEET UP AGAIN IN ANOTHER LIFE because we are ill-fated lovers in this world and destiny has played a card against us.
WHAT PLANET ARE YOU ON?
Finally, “i’m not religious. swear.” Maybe not, but you’re definitely a coked-out whackjob. I don’t know what your religious affiliations has to do with anything, I’m assuming that’s in reference to your ‘another life” crap, but now your messages sound like the ramblings of an insane hobo.
Again, I didn’t respond, so he harasses me with ANOTHER STUPID DM:
At this point, buddy, that is neither here nor there.
Enough is enough. I told him no, and he keeps bothering me, so I unfollowed him from Twitter so he couldn’t DM me any further.
Did that stop him?
You already know the answer to that question. He then decides to publicly tweet me:
OH YES, THAT’S WHAT I’M GOING TO DO. I’m going to put myself in a situation where you can “make it up to me.” In your brain, that probably involves snorting lines of coke off my toenails or watching pitbulls rape each other, or some other fucked up shit. Yes, please, I want to be in your presence again! WHAT PART OF I’M NOT INTERESTED DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND??????
I’d rather jump off the CN Tower and catch my eyelid on a nail than let you make anything up to me. In fact, we are nothing to each other, so you have nothing to make up to me. You made a pass at me, I rejected you, end of story. Take it like a man, have some self-respect, and move on.
Stop bothering me!
You make my skin crawl.
This isn’t the first time I’ve blogged about men using DM to send me inappropriate messages (read here and here for previous examples). $20 says this won’t be the last.
Some of you may think I’m over-reacting and being a bitch. It’s true, I do get called a Bitch quite often. What I do NOT get called is pushover, stupid, sweetheart, dear or doormat.
Works for me.
(next posts will go back to our regularly-scheduled NYC graffiti & street art finds, swearsies!)
every time you read my blog, i win
i received the best hate-mail yesterday. i’ve been running this blog for over six years (and i starred in a reality tv show for fucks sake), so i’ve received more than my share of hate over the years, and i know how to deal with it. which is to say – basically don’t bother dealing with it, just laugh at the stupidity of it all. people spew their shit from their dark corners because it makes them feel like tough guys, contrasted against the harsh reality that they have been forgotten in the world, and screaming into the void is easier to do than reflecting that mirror inwards.
i was out with my girls last night, laughing our faces off at the Ugly Sweater party (so many hideous shoulder-pads and bedazzled embroidery!), when this guy whose only sexual partner is attached to his wrist decided to write me a fucking novel. i’m scrolling quickly through it on my blackberry, blah blah blah, you’re a bitch, blah blah blah, you’re a cunt, yawn. What else is on? i mean really, cupcake, brevity is the key to insulting.
basically this guy had just ejaculated his paranoid neuroses into an essay and expected me to applaud his efforts.
from the bits i did read (in between chatting up bill-cosby-sweater’d men and clinking glasses at the long bar), i gathered that this guy is SUCH A WINNER. ladies, you better remove your panties, because they are about to get wet. read his best bits:
“…You will never, ever, ever overcome the world’s patriarchal heritage, and at the end of the day you’ll still be a piece of ass with a smart mouth…
…I don’t care if you reply, and I’ll probably appreciate it more if you don’t, but if you do, all I’ll do is drown out the noise and imagine my dick in your mouth….
…So long, you perfectly proportioned, olive-skinned, beautiful and deranged parrot. Just remember to keep your legs closed and watch your figure: because even after you’re drained of all your “intellectual” capability, you would make some guy a hell of a wife. Trade those books in for a make-up case, and maybe even a trophy wife.”
sounds like another Marc Lépine to me. seriously dude, if you don’t wanna end up blowing your brains out in a community college cafeteria, buy yourself some time with a sex worker and RELAX.
i forwarded his neurotic emails to my boy Nate, who said,
that guy
wants to bone you
BADDDDLY
I don’t understand why people attack others for doing their thing whatever it may be esp when it bothers no one.
he’s a ho bag though
I did not like the whole put down the book and get a make up case thing
he sounds like a pig
maybe it’s someone that you’ve fucked in the past
and you were SO good that nothing compares now
so he’s TRIPPING the fuck out
and this is the end result
it takes a lot of effort to hate someone
so you do win
that’s right. i win. Every time you read my blog, or talk about me, i win. Just the fact that i own real-estate in your brain means that i win. So go ahead and fashion me some more long-winded, ego-maniacal, prima-donna manifestos on why i suck. it makes for great blog content!
the truth of the matter is, the number of times a man uses the words ‘bitch’ or ‘cunt’ or ‘ho’ is INVERSELY proportional to the size and dimensions of his penis. real men feel no need to insult women. real men know that women are not just here for entertainment.
especially if they’ve seen Rita Rudner’s stand-up.
cheers, cupcake!
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.”
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.”
i’ve got love for you if you were born in the 80s
and i just look at the man sitting across from me, and then to the boy with the stretched earlobe piercings flopping down to his shoulders, and wanted to stab myself with a fork.
“ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn…” is i think what came out of my mouth. i was rendered absolutely speechless.
MOR.TI.FIED.
i couldn’t exactly say, “i’m with this man, sorry,” because we were just meeting for an innocent cuppa and i didn’t know if he’d freak out if i used him as an excuse (although he did tell me later that i could’ve said that, dammit). and the kid just wouldn’t stop trying to chat me up right in front of my coffee-partner! AWKWARD.
i took the kids number in an effort to get rid of him and to shut him up, nonetheless he wanted to stay and talk ignoring that i was clearly with someone else.
i guess that’s what i get for shooting my mouth off loud enough for people to hear.
anyhoo, the man in question and i moved cafes to another joint, and talked for about 3 hours. then he invited me to his one-man show over the weekend. it was actually more of a cabaret style performance. great showtunes and songs, piano music, stories and anecdotes about love, french pastries and wine, art on the walls, it was really something.
and his personal stories….they were funny, they were poignant….i got a little emotional.
during intermission, his old school teacher, who was sitting next to me, hovers over me and asks in a sing-songy voice, “are you his girlfriend?!”
i think i replied something along the lines of “ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn….”
Merchants of Green Coffee, F’Coffee, The Mascot, Crafted by Te Aro, Te Aro Roasted, Rooster Coffee House, Red Rocket Coffee (on Queen East), and Moonbeam.
Cafe 260, Ground Level Cafe, Bisogno Cafe, Crema Coffee, Red Rocket Coffee (on Wellesley), and Linuxcaffe.
sacha, dan and jonathan (& son Jacob)
so i was a bit worried at first that the 20-person-table i reserved at the Gladstone wouldn’t be filled because everyone kept bailing on me at the last minute (one of my friends actually messaged me to say he couldn’t make it because he had to “go to the gym.” people are such tools). but slowly the place started to fill with all of my lovely mates and we ended up having such a great time…until….
…..i’ve mentioned in a previous post how there was this guy, this really ugly-sex guy that i made out with at sofi’s party a couple weeks ago, and how i’d probably have to start avoiding his calls, and texts. boy have i ever. not only has the dude been incessantly leaving me voicemails, or texting me, but he’s also been leaving me so many FB messages.
“hey sexy how are you?”
“hey what’s going on gorgeous?”
“have i told you how beautiful you are yet today?”
barf. i mean, these types of messages would be welcome if they weren’t from someone who looked like if you told him to go fuck himself, he’d give it a shot.
dude is terrifying.
and you would think that after all of his messages that i’ve been ignoring, he’d read between the lines and TAKE A HINT but no.
if the situation were reversed, and i kept texting and calling and FB messaging some guy with no response, i’d be labeled a “needy, desperate chick.” but when a guy does it, he’s just “assertive.’
plus, it’s not like i can be at all flattered by his attention, seeing as how i’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s been sending the exact same messages to other girls that he fancies. dude got out of a relationship recently, is obviously hurting, and now wants to be a man-whore with whoever he can find. but he probably shouldn’t be doing it with people who KNOW his ex-girlfriend.
so during the course of my boozy-brunch, when i’m having such a great time with my friends, and catching up, and being all squealy (i’m a squealer), guess who AMBUSHES it.
sofi and patrick!
the look on my face clearly was one of shock and utter horror. WHO DOES THAT? who shows up, unannounced and clearly uninvited to someone’s birthday for the sole purpose of ambushing them. oh you won’t answer my desperate messages? guess i’ll go ruin your birthday!
and seeing as how we have some mutual friends (they’re MY friends, and his acquaintances-not-really), and they don’t know that he aggressively tried it on with me, they all starred at me when he arrived, wondering what the fuck he was doing there. and clearly when my look of oh-fuck-now-i-have-a-situation-on-my-hands burned across my cheeks, they probably knew something was up, and i will now hafta field some uncomfy questions.
KEITH YOU RULE AT PHOTOBOMBS! oh hai jess and soph!
i was angry, i was mortified, but mostly i wanted to clobber him. if i had done that to a boy who was ignoring my texts, i’d be seen as a crazy psycho stalker.
so when most of my friends had left, he pulled me aside and asked “why are you ignoring meeeeeeeeee?” wah wah wah, i’ll call the waaaaaaaaaaaambulance, dude.
do you really think you’re irresistable, you twat.
so in my most gentle voice that i usually reserve for 4-year-olds, i told him that getting it on with some bloke who used to date a girl i know isn’t for me. again, i assumed that by telling him this, he could read between the lines that I’M NOT INTERESTED. you are a douchey imbecile of the lowest order and you behave like a wife-beater.
instead, a few hours later after leaving, he sends me this FB message:
It was great to see you today. That dress looks exquisite on you, and makes your skin look delicious.
Thanks for filling me in, I must say I was disappointed I never heard from you. I was really excited to see you.
Anyway shhhhh…. discretion is the key:) I think your super sexy, wicked smart, and I like your style girl.
All the best babe.
regurgitate! regurgitate!
we bring up all the food we ate!
vee-ohh-emm-eye-teee
VOMIT
that’s the crazy stalker ugmo ambusher. blurred for his anonymity and to protect his privacy. grossssss.
so i wrote back angrily and said that i’m glad we cleared things up, BUT MY BIRTHDAY WAS NOT THE APPROPRIATE TIME TO DO IT, you ruined my day.
ass.
and i don’t drink. ever. anyone who knows me, knows that i don’t touch alcohol. it’s just not my thing. but keith bought me a shot. so i downed it.
and now i wanna watch Lance et Compte.
anyhoo, watch the Funkytown trailer here:
i’ve scored myself a ticket to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. now i’m definitely headed to NYC at the end of March.
epic win
>i’ve got love for you if you were born in the 80s
>
and i just look at the man sitting across from me, and then to the boy with the stretched earlobe piercings flopping down to his shoulders, and wanted to stab myself with a fork.
“ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn…” is i think what came out of my mouth. i was rendered absolutely speechless.
MOR.TI.FIED.
i couldn’t exactly say, “i’m with this man, sorry,” because we were just meeting for an innocent cuppa and i didn’t know if he’d freak out if i used him as an excuse (although he did tell me later that i could’ve said that, dammit). and the kid just wouldn’t stop trying to chat me up right in front of my coffee-partner! AWKWARD.
i took the kids number in an effort to get rid of him and to shut him up, nonetheless he wanted to stay and talk ignoring that i was clearly with someone else.
i guess that’s what i get for shooting my mouth off loud enough for people to hear.
anyhoo, the man in question and i moved cafes to another joint, and talked for about 3 hours. then he invited me to his one-man show over the weekend. it was actually more of a cabaret style performance. great showtunes and songs, piano music, stories and anecdotes about love, french pastries and wine, art on the walls, it was really something.
and his personal stories….they were funny, they were poignant….i got a little emotional.
during intermission, his old school teacher, who was sitting next to me, hovers over me and asks in a sing-songy voice, “are you his girlfriend?!”
i think i replied something along the lines of “ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn….”
Merchants of Green Coffee, F’Coffee, The Mascot, Crafted by Te Aro, Te Aro Roasted, Rooster Coffee House, Red Rocket Coffee (on Queen East), and Moonbeam.
Cafe 260, Ground Level Cafe, Bisogno Cafe, Crema Coffee, Red Rocket Coffee (on Wellesley), and Linuxcaffe.
sacha, dan and jonathan (& son Jacob)
so i was a bit worried at first that the 20-person-table i reserved at the Gladstone wouldn’t be filled because everyone kept bailing on me at the last minute (one of my friends actually messaged me to say he couldn’t make it because he had to “go to the gym.” people are such tools). but slowly the place started to fill with all of my lovely mates and we ended up having such a great time…until….
…..i’ve mentioned in a previous post how there was this guy, this really ugly-sex guy that i made out with at sofi’s party a couple weeks ago, and how i’d probably have to start avoiding his calls, and texts. boy have i ever. not only has the dude been incessantly leaving me voicemails, or texting me, but he’s also been leaving me so many FB messages.
“hey sexy how are you?”
“hey what’s going on gorgeous?”
“have i told you how beautiful you are yet today?”
barf. i mean, these types of messages would be welcome if they weren’t from someone who looked like if you told him to go fuck himself, he’d give it a shot.
dude is terrifying.
and you would think that after all of his messages that i’ve been ignoring, he’d read between the lines and TAKE A HINT but no.
if the situation were reversed, and i kept texting and calling and FB messaging some guy with no response, i’d be labeled a “needy, desperate chick.” but when a guy does it, he’s just “assertive.’
plus, it’s not like i can be at all flattered by his attention, seeing as how i’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s been sending the exact same messages to other girls that he fancies. dude got out of a relationship recently, is obviously hurting, and now wants to be a man-whore with whoever he can find. but he probably shouldn’t be doing it with people who KNOW his ex-girlfriend.
so during the course of my boozy-brunch, when i’m having such a great time with my friends, and catching up, and being all squealy (i’m a squealer), guess who AMBUSHES it.
sofi and patrick!
the look on my face clearly was one of shock and utter horror. WHO DOES THAT? who shows up, unannounced and clearly uninvited to someone’s birthday for the sole purpose of ambushing them. oh you won’t answer my desperate messages? guess i’ll go ruin your birthday!
and seeing as how we have some mutual friends (they’re MY friends, and his acquaintances-not-really), and they don’t know that he aggressively tried it on with me, they all starred at me when he arrived, wondering what the fuck he was doing there. and clearly when my look of oh-fuck-now-i-have-a-situation-on-my-hands burned across my cheeks, they probably knew something was up, and i will now hafta field some uncomfy questions.
KEITH YOU RULE AT PHOTOBOMBS! oh hai jess and soph!
i was angry, i was mortified, but mostly i wanted to clobber him. if i had done that to a boy who was ignoring my texts, i’d be seen as a crazy psycho stalker.
so when most of my friends had left, he pulled me aside and asked “why are you ignoring meeeeeeeeee?” wah wah wah, i’ll call the waaaaaaaaaaaambulance, dude.
do you really think you’re irresistable, you twat.
so in my most gentle voice that i usually reserve for 4-year-olds, i told him that getting it on with some bloke who used to date a girl i know isn’t for me. again, i assumed that by telling him this, he could read between the lines that I’M NOT INTERESTED. you are a douchey imbecile of the lowest order and you behave like a wife-beater.
instead, a few hours later after leaving, he sends me this FB message:
It was great to see you today. That dress looks exquisite on you, and makes your skin look delicious.
Thanks for filling me in, I must say I was disappointed I never heard from you. I was really excited to see you.
Anyway shhhhh…. discretion is the key:) I think your super sexy, wicked smart, and I like your style girl.
All the best babe.
regurgitate! regurgitate!
we bring up all the food we ate!
vee-ohh-emm-eye-teee
VOMIT
that’s the crazy stalker ugmo ambusher. blurred for his anonymity and to protect his privacy. grossssss.
so i wrote back angrily and said that i’m glad we cleared things up, BUT MY BIRTHDAY WAS NOT THE APPROPRIATE TIME TO DO IT, you ruined my day.
ass.
and i don’t drink. ever. anyone who knows me, knows that i don’t touch alcohol. it’s just not my thing. but keith bought me a shot. so i downed it.
and now i wanna watch Lance et Compte.
anyhoo, watch the Funkytown trailer here:
i’ve scored myself a ticket to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. now i’m definitely headed to NYC at the end of March.
epic win
