Click on the above image or click here to read my latest essay in VICE about a douchecanoe that I knew for only 2 hours TWELVE YEARS AGO and wouldn’t piss off, so I lost my shit on him. It’s probably my greatest #ByeFelipe triumph.
This serves as a reminder, ladies, when a Yoko Brono uses the term “spinster,” it actually opens up a rift in the Space-Time Continuum to 1915.
So if you’ll excuse me, I need to jump in my autogyro and head to Constantinople to meet with the King of Siam. Hope he’s not a Bolshevik!
And dudes, here’s your takeaway: if you don’t want to be written about, you should have behaved better.
Check out my VICE category for all of my other essays that have been published in VICE.
And remember to check out the all-new ChristineEstima dot com! It’s where you’ll find all of my published works!
I’ve been sitting on this news since OCTOBER you guys. I’ve hinted at it in the past, but couldn’t say a word until now. I was selected to appear in an episode of Channel 4’s documentary series First Dates, a fly-on-the-wall documentary show about singletons going on first dates in London. They’ve featured me in the commercial advertising the show, which you can watch above.
My episode, where I went on a lovely date with Paul, will air this Wednesday, February 12th at 10pm on Channel 4 in the UK and Ireland. After, it will be available to watch online on 4oD. I’m afraid it won’t be broadcast internationally, nor is 4oD available internationally, so unless someone uploads a torrent of this, you won’t be able to watch it unless you live in the UK or Ireland. But hopefully a bunch of my British munchkins will watch and enjoy and share!
EDIT: They’ve also uploaded my “dating profile” to the First Dates website, check me out here!
Since the commercial started airing, I’ve been inundated with messages from people asking, “Did I just see you in a commercial for First Dates on Channel 4?!”
Haha! It’s nice to know that even though I have 2 seconds of air-time in this commercial, I’m instantly recognizable . . . The Canadian accent must be the give-away.
I’m really excited about this because I feel like I’m starting 2014 off right. First, I am invited to lecture at an academic conference, then I am invited to do a spoken word performance at Spark London (which you can listen to here on their podcast, I’m the first performer on it!) and now I’m featured on a brilliant documentary series about love.
That’s what I love about life: it is always exquisitely unpredictable, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There are no rules to this thing, go out there and live your life, make it your own, fill it with adventure and extraordinary experiences until it’s bursting at the seams, and never look back.
Onward and upward!
Because you’re gonna wanna hear this story.
So something happened last weekend that I wasn’t sure if I should blog about, but a few days have passed and I have reflected on it a bit so I guess it’s kosher to talk about now.
Click here to enlarge the photo.
So this happened. The link might not work anymore by the time you read this because Craigslist ads are notoriously short-lived. But yeah…. this is definitely about me.
Apart from the fact that his punctuation is atrocious (dude, put a period in there somewhere!), this is, I guess, kinda nice and flattering?
I’m having a hard time with it because although he’s paying me a compliment, it also kind of angers me. I remember this exchange (although i’m drawing a blank when it comes to remembering his face) and it was all very benign. We were just talking about my shitty old camera and about a lot of the graffiti one might find in the area. So why his post has a romantic vibe to it makes me feel like less of a human being and more of an object.
I’m probably reading too much into his few short sentences. I guess I’m at an age (read: breaking point) where I don’t like being ogled when I’m out in public. Leave that for the teenagers. I want to be treated like a member of the community, as a human being, and as a distinct soul. Not as a possible date.
Am I being mean?
I’m being mean, aren’t I?
I didn’t respond to his post … wouldn’t want him to discover I’m actually a moody cow.
Anyway, fanks to the bajillion people who flooded my email inbox, facebook, and text messages, giving me a head’s up about this and sending me the link! Nice to know my readers have got my back.
International Women’s Day (which is tomorrow, March 8th) is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. This past weekend, there was a protest march in toronto to draw attention to the issues in this city and country that affect women.
i love these events because they show just how informed, organized, and tightly regimented our communities are when it comes to issues that affect not just women, but everyone. Notice how it’s not just women in this march.
they shut down yonge street, and were protected by The Filth (aka the cops), who prevented cars and traffic from getting anywhere near them. while i am grateful that i do live in a city and a country where the right to assemble and to protest is protected, i am still DISGUSTED by how that same right was denied us during the G20 in 2010. That stain will never be removed from the core of Torontonian’s hearts. We will never forget how peaceful protestors were beaten, detained, kettled, and illegally arrested.
“break the cycles, stop the silence, women in jail is state violence!”
“capitalism can’t be fixed – expropriate the banks!”
toronto women’s city alliance.
“free maricon montajes! free all political prisoners in the philippines!”
as we were observing this protest, someone said to me “international women’s day? when is international men’s day?”
and i replied, “EVERYDAY IS INTERNATIONAL MEN’S DAY!”
march 8th and december 6th (national day of remembrance and action on violence against women) must be kept holier than the sabbath.
james mcavoy, i want to have your abortion.
and if you refuse, i’ll gladly take gerard butler or ewan mcgregor.
SCOTTISH MEN FTW.
damn right you do.
A few years ago, I backpacked around India for a month and blogged about a lil love affair I had whilst there. One morning in the small village of Pushkar, during the festival of Diwali, me and “Crewe” (I gave him that name on this blog to protect his privacy) climbed a mountain before dawn, and found a hindu temple at the top. We watched the sun rise over the village, and marvelled at the above Hindu monk who prayed during the event horizon. I took that photo from a distance.
Crewe and I still talk, and he’s now pursuing his dream of being an artist (so proud of him!). He painted this below scene, inspired by the photographs we had taken of the Hindu monk:
he’s started a tumblr under an alias, so you can check out more of his work here.
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.
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!
i took this photo in an alleyway in Baldwin Village. it was written next to some extremely homophobic tags which i chose not to photograph. as much as i love good graff and street art, the more walls i photograph, the more i notice a real fucking problem of homophobia in street culture. i mean, c’mon dudes. graff already has a hard enough time convincing people that it is art deserving respect. doing this kind of shit is antithetical and is NOT THE WAY TO STREET CRED.
and if you use the term “no homo” around me, i will instantly know your level of intelligence and how small your penis is.
Toni from RTV 21 in a love connection with an American woman!
” How did you come across this? ” Toni would say. Well when love connections are in question, nothing can pass us by. A couple weeks ago, a young pretty American girl visited Kosovo. She wasn’t a model, singer or anything like that, just a simple girl who came to visit her friends at the Mission in Kosovo. Through them she met the journalist from RT21, Driton Siqeca. After couple dates, Toni and the pretty American started their love connection. From their friends we found out that everything happened randomly and they are surprised how fast they fell in love. They both were having a good time together in secret places so people wouldn’t see them. During these meetings they were having long conversations and long kisses. We’ve written about his love affairs before but this one is more interesting: Toni is in love with an American! Of course it’s too early to talk about engagement or marriage … but if it happens, what do you think? Would she come to live in Kosovo or will Toni go there?
I’m not American, and I didn’t have any friends at the Mission in Kosovo. Other than that, this tabloid report was pretty accurate. Toni later told me that the local paparazzi had snapped photos of us together, but he pressured them not to print them.
when this blog was still hosted on blogspot, i quoted that Closer line in the footer. i downloaded the opening song by the devlins. i visited postman’s park where the Alice Ayres plaque actually exists in London. i never met any handsome doctors at the london aquarium, but i did have an affair with a man who lived around the corner from Whiteley’s in bayswater (where Anna has her photography exhibit).
and i started calling people “buster.”
my best friend is in his late 50s and lives in saskatchewan. he calls it the ‘Katch. he teaches at a university. he writes me emails about his prairie home (sans companion) and how it’s like the return of the rube from whence he came. i miss him. he always tells me about my life, he sees it better than i do.
today he writes, “Many times I wonder where my pal Christine is at. She’s an exploding nova.”
i haven’t seen him since the spring when he was briefly in toronto and took me out to dinner at Queen Mother. we talked about my love life. i think he wishes i were 30 years older, or he was 30 years younger, but we’re more than that. we’re soul mates still trying to figure out if we even have souls.
after dinner we went to go see a play about cosmonauts and their daughters on front street. he wanted to leave at intermission and i had to scold him like he was my son. then he saw the oozy theatre reviewer sitting across the aisle who was a thorn at his side for years. he nearly marched over there, fists clenched, lips pursed, nostrils flared, and brained him.
i emailed him when my health went south and begged him to come home to toronto. because i needed him. i was hysterical and inconsolable. now he’s returning for the winter holidays, and i’ll be in NYC.
Life loves her little tortures.
mo’ staches, mo’ problems.
super scary blurry dance party avec allegra.
i fink i’m in trouble. you know that fing women do – where they over-fink fings? (thmile when you thay that)
i’m obsessing about the inconsequential non-sequiturs of life.
for example, last night after Mo’gasm, i did a lot of graffiti hunting and snapped some amazing photos, but my camera fucked up, and for some reason, half of my pics are corrupted, meaning i have to go back, retrace my steps, and find those rare gems again before they’re taken down.
OBSESS! CHRISSY MAD! CHRISSY SMASH!
that’s one little issue of many that i am rolling over and over in my brain as if it were a messy joint.
sometimes i can’t believe the things i allow myself to daydream.
wildly fanciful scenarios that aren’t based in any kind of reality.
it shocks me how courageous my imaginary self is (when it comes to matter of the heart), and yet how pussy-footed my real self is.
i’m cerebral ballsy.