OMFG - Friends With An Ex

I had dinner with an ex the other night. Not an ex but the ex. My first love who shattered, put back together, and shattered my heart again at least three times during our tumultuous (and that's putting it mildly) three year run. And it was, dare I say, a pleasant experience. Is it possible, that despite the hell we put each other through less than a year ago, we are now able to be friends? Apparently so.

If my ex and I are able to be friends, I can say with a large dose of certainty that most exes can find a spot in the friendship zone. We were, and I cannot stress this enough, volcanic together....pure red lava flowing from every faucet of our bond. We drove each other insane. I think of some of the actions I executed while together with him -- actions that at the time I proceeded to carry out as if they were perfectly normal -- and realize just how close to being exiled to an asylum I was. The same went for him. Passionately in love, sure. Psychotically close to the brink of total sadism, well yes, that as well. At the worst of times we made each other truly miserable and yet here we sat just a few nights ago laughing over our failed attempt at love over Pad Thai and greasy spring rolls.

The experience was liberating and one that made me feel ever so mature. Mature -- the very word gets thrown around carelessly in our twenties; most of the time as a way to try and differentiate oneself when drama arises. (Example: "OMG. I'm way too mature [eye roll] to even care what that bitch said about me. Like way. Too. Mature.") I'm guilty of being the girl who cried maturity on several occasions (us damn twenty-somethings...we've always got something to prove) but this time it wasn't total bullshit. It was a genuine feeling of calm and honesty; two things I never felt while we were dating.

We're not robots, of course, and memories are still memories. But, with enough time apart to get over any residual enabling emotions and the shared goal of actually wanting to be friends, the dinner occurred sans ulterior motives on either end. Why bother, you ask? Because I rather be friends with shared memories than strangers with a shared past. Care, for me at least, isn't an item that comes with an expiry date. It is strictly non-perishable.

As we verbally sifted through our romantic history, there was no nitpicking of this transgression or that indiscretion but simply a recap of the good times. It's true what they say; when you think back on all the big moments of your life, it's the joyful ones that stick the most. Does time heal everything? Nope. But it sure does give us room to grow. Damn, I'm mature.

x

Shit happens. Keep calm & move on....OMFG

My purse committed suicide last week. Okay...that's not entirely true. I may of assisted in its murder. In my defense, I was drunk. No -- drunk is not a sufficient enough word to describe the state I was in. I was totally, ridiculously, insanely and outrageously wasted. It was the end of the night on my 25th birthday last week and as I stumbled out of the cab to get home (in 4-inch heels, no less), I left my beautiful black purse in the backseat, thus committing the first crime of my quarter century year: pursicide.

One wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelets later I learned my first lesson of the latter half of my twenties: shit happens. Keep calm and move on. The first part of that lesson has never been my forte. A highly emotionally-charged being, I'm prone to freaking-the-fuck out when shit hits the proverbial fan. Mostly on the inside, some times on the outside, and always electronically. My poor Droid has received the brunt end of my emotional lashings via endless texting spazzes and even a few throws...thank goodness for hard box cases. What do these freak-outs do? Next to nothing.

Besides dehydrating me via the massive amount of water I expel through my overused tear ducts, having mini meltdowns over ex-boyfriends this, missing out on that and everything else that tends to cause me stress just makes it worse. I always tease my barely emotional friends for being robots, but at times I wonder if life really is easier with the ability to suppress any uncomfortable feelings. Unluckily for me, I'm a freakin' feelings monster who seems to thrive on functioning at a wavelength that only prepubescent girls and I can hear.

And much to my recent dismay, immaturity is exactly what I've come to realize freaking out amounts to. I'm twenty five now for goodness sake; I think it's time I get a handle on two things: 1) that exes suck balls and 2) that my emotions can't run my life. Mr. Roboto, I never will be, but there's definitely room to improve emotional intelligence-wise. I know my tear ducts will thank me later.

Suddenly one wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelet's doesn't seem like such a high price to pay for one darn good realization: taking control of things that affect me negatively and making them not is entirely in my hands. A wise man (ahem, Thomas Neary) once told me progress is the key to happiness...ending teenage emotional sprees at twenty five may be late, but it is progress nonetheless. From pursicide to epiphanies -- it's all about taking negative experiences and transitioning into positive realizations. Shit happens. Freak out momentarily. Keep calm, keep smiling, and move the fuck on.

x

OMFG - How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days

So I turn 25 in less than a month. The horror is slowly sinking in. As a model, I'm ancient, but as a single girl in the city, I'm somewhere in between a hopeless romantic and an "all men are scum" mindset. Lately, I've been leaning towards the latter. What it is about men in this city that makes dating so...so...difficult? Before I go on, allow me to inform those of you who don't me: I'm university educated, attractive (after 9 a.m....mornings and I do not, I repeat do NOT mix), social, and, from what I've been told, pretty darn fun to be around. I'm independent, don't wear fake hair, always order dessert, and think that superhero movies are awesome. Why am I going all e-harmony on you, darling readers? Because my love life (and those of my other single girlfriends) as of late has me inspired. As does watching this Kate Hudson classic on a Sunday night. How do us twenty-something girls on the scene lose a guy in ten (or more) days? Let me count the ways.

1) We go out.
I'm a promoter. As in, I get people into clubs and facilitate good times. What does this mean? That I'm out and about on average 4 times a week. What has this taught me? Men do NOT like girls who are exposed. Before turning my nightlife into something profitable, I was already a fixture on the scene. I love going out and did so when I was single, and while in a relationship. (Nothing like a partner in crime you can sleep with as well!) One year of promoting later and I pretty much know everyone who comes to our weekly parties. I spend my nights chatting with everyone and their mama at our events. Alas, a few men I've been on dates with have cringed at the thought of their girl being so openly social all the time. The girlfriends I have who come to almost all my nights are out just as much as I am. Yes, there are tons of less-than-desirable trashy girls who fit the description of club whore to a tee, but there are also normal girls who just like to dance! And we ain't gonna do it at home.

2) We look good.
I model on the side. Inevitably, I have a lot of model friends. And they all express the same woes with me, men-wise. It's a double-edged sword when it comes to having model status on the dating scene. On one hand, guys love the idea of dating not the girl in the dress, but the girl in the ad in the dress. On the other hand, by dating, I mean banging. Yup. It's either a) you're the first model they've ever been with and their male ego goes nuts after and they want to see what else they can get, b) they are massively insecure at the thought of model looks and self-sabotage or c) they are modelizers just in it for the chase. Bang bang, bye bye. This really applies to all hot chicks. Actually, just all girls in general.The heart wants what it wants, right? Well, so do the pants.

3) We're Carrie girls.
There's been a bit of an epidemic among my older guy friends lately. They all seem to be settling down with -- how shall I phrase this delicately -- Plain Janes. You know: boring, nice, sweet enough girls who just sit there smiling and giggling. They don't add much to conversations and look as if they put their outfits together via the style tips page in Cosmo. They're perfectly pleasant but they're just not, to me anyway, interesting. I love all my opinionated, sharp-witted, potty-mouthed, fashion-mistake making, risk-taking, mood-swinging girlfriends more than anything. All the ridiculousness they get into, all the epic mistakes and comebacks they endure, and all the insane shenanigans they create make them worship material. As Carrie once quoted to the elation of interesting women everywhere: "Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find some one just as wild to run with them." I have nothing against these Plain Janes (and if they make my friends happy, that's what matters) but Carrie's got a point. Where are the men who don't want Version 2.0 of their moms but a wild goddess to keep up with them? Or, keep up with us, is more like it!

4) We know what we want.
And for the overwhelming majority of my girls, that doesn't mean kids. At least not for a long while. I'm still remarkably uncomfortable around kids...maybe it's because they're smelly and loud (likely), or maybe it's because they remind me that I want to accomplish so much more before I can even consider having them. Of course I want kids one day (it would be a crime to humanity to not reproduce adorable Asian babies. You know they're the cutest. Don't even try and deny it.) but right now, I want a successful career, travel, and a Balenciaga Moto in every colour. Selfish? No. Just watch a few minutes of Teen Mom and my case is made. I don't know where my career will take me now, but I hope it takes me everywhere. My successful girl friends in the scene work similarly flexible jobs (DJing, fashion merchandising, modeling, etc.) and know that when an opportunity strikes, you jump on it. Being outwardly anti-child is, hmm, kind of the opposite of what men who want to date seriously are looking to hear; but kids or no kids, I rather jab my stiletto into my jugular than become a housewife.

5) We're picky.
I know what I'm worth. And it's a lot. I'm cocky by no means, but every healthy, happy individual has a good dose of self-confidence.That being said, I'm not willing to settle for less than I think I deserve. This sounds a lot bitchier than it is; I welcome complicated men (actually have quite the liking for them), am capable of empathetic understanding to the umpteenth degree and honest to goodness do not give a crap about income. However, slip-ups in how you treat me usually end with a brisk switch in my head from "potential" to "never". Where my adhesion is to good hearts and being treated well, all my other girl friends have there own  versions of criteria they're just as unwilling to deviate from. Handsome, kind, and interesting -- those are just the bare necessities.

There you have it guys and dolls. How to lose a guy in ten (or more) days, according to my recent love life and those of my similarly situation-ed girl friends! Let's recap here: gorgeous, ambitious, opinionated, decisive and socially-inclined women have become the pariahs of the dating scene? In that case, I think I'll be happily single. Carrie girls are a rare breed and, well, I really wouldn't have it any other way.

                                         Best scene.

x

OMFG - Like A Child

I have a girl crush on Ellen. As in Ellen Degeneres, the comedian turned talk show queen. She dances, she's hilarious, she gives away thousands of dollars to those in need, she's adorable and she was the voice of Dory in Finding Nemo...what's not to love? I'm clearly not the only one as she's become a household name since the Big O left daytime. Sure, seeing her interview celebrity guests is nice, and watching her give away much needed help to those less fortunate is heartwarming, but that's not the reason I tune in. The best part of watching Ellen is she still laughs at her own jokes, still gets the chuckles when playfully interacting with guests and still looks totally amazed when new things are introduced to her. In other words, Ellen's still just a kid at heart.

Growing up kind of sucks. Yes, I said it. There's so much more to worry about, and the more you know, the more you worry. I'm not condoning an ignorant life by any means and obviously the responsibilities of getting older are for a reason (um, to not die, for the most part) but come on, how much more awesome was life before your first heartbreak? Before you were jaded? Before you thought you had seen and known everything that was worth seeing and knowing? Becoming jaded is all too easy in our overexposed, oversexed, over-hyped modern world. Staying childlike at heart is a skill. Take it from some one who gets sex, lies, and all other adult things shoved in her face on a daily basis via the nightlife industry. You want to stay pre-jaded as long as humanly possible.

Now, let's keep our definition of childlike away from that of being immature. I'm not talking about immaturity as in not being able to handle adult situations which we all inevitably come across. I'm talking about that sense of wonder and play and just being happy to just be. Watch any motivational talk on happiness, positive thinking or what have you, and they all list this as a key source of perpetual glee. Successful people keep exploring and pursuing, so take a note from them and do the same. Want it in the simplest terms? Just keep yourself open to knowing that things, even little things, are still awesome. And really, who doesn't want to be more awesome?

I squeal over a lot of things. When I see friends (even if I see them all the time), when I make travel plans, when I see art I like, when dessert is brought to the table etc. I'm a squealy, smiley, ecstatic kind of expresser and when I'm happy, everyone knows it. Seriously guys, if a model/promoter can still be un-jaded, then really, anyone can. The world is super awesome, and no matter how much we see of it...there's still so much more. So take a little time to think like a child -- Ellen would be proud.

Kiddies, check this out.

x

OMFG - The Disconnect

I had a bit of a messy weekend and found myself looking for some ways to self improve, as I always do after feeling particularly unproductive or useless. The best way to do this, for me at least, is to be inspired by other noteworthy individuals who have made great changes for the better in their lives. I had always heard about TED talks, in bits and pieces of conversations from friends, but never bothered to check them out. At last, today, feeling super hungover and rather remorseful (to be perfectly honest) I decided that if there was ever a time I needed a collection of inspirational talks at my fingertips, it was now. And so, the TED-talking marathon began.

TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is basically a community of ideas worth sharing on every topic one can think of. I was immediately drawn to a few talks about how to maintain a life of happiness, and positive thinking. I asked my sister to send me any she found of interest and she ended up sending me psychologist Sherry Turkle's speech on modern technology and its impacts on society. Now, I know this doesn't sound like a topic as interesting as, say, Heidi and Seal's impending divorce or whatever shenanigans La Lohan happens to be getting herself into (drugs, DUI's, bad hair choices; that's all you need to know re: Lohan anyway) but it was a far more relative and engaging talk than one might initially think. If a twenty-something with a short attention span like me was easily consumed, trust me in saying it's a talk worth watching.

Anyway, if you still want to skip it, here's the gist of Turkle's argument: society today has become so dependent on constant online interactions that we've learned to expect less from actual human interactions. In other words, instead of feeling emotions with each other in person, we share statuses about feelings and (maybe) feel them after. It's a good point as many of my friends, myself included, put a lot of effort into our edited, manicured, and Photoshopped online versions of ourselves. Sure, much of it is for business and self-promotional reasons, but that doesn't change the fact that living edited online takes away from living for real in life. (I know my club promotions look much better coming from the streamlined Facebook page of an uber-cool model who posts slick dance songs and apathetic sounding status updates...but my true dork self slips up most of time, which is why you often see goofy family pictures, jubilant statuses on cake and Justin Bieber songs. What? He's awesome guys, I can't lie.)

I mean, how many times have you been at a dinner and every single person is on their Blackberry, Droid or iPhone tweeting or status updating about how awesome the dinner is when....well nothing is really happening at the dinner? It's a creepy perfected online world we've become used to expecting of each other. Pictures are perfect, wording is well-thought out and nothing is posted without being approved by some one. The thing is...real life is messy. It's demanding. It's sloppy. It's complicated. And most of all, it's kind of awesome for all those reasons. What we attempt to control online, we can't control in real life and I wouldn't change that for anything.

Perhaps it's just the company that occupies the night life industry I am surrounded by, but these super-savvy and highly image-conscious people almost seem afraid to live messy, real lives for fear it'll ruin their online personas. Heck, everyone is so afraid of getting hurt, it seems, that it's an easier choice to just become Mr. Roboto and not feel. Unfortunately for them, I'm thinky, feely (perhaps a little too much so) and complicated...oh and plan on living as emotionally loud as I want to. Messy? Perhaps. But real as can be.

Comment, like, and share this blog entry as you like, but don't forget to mention it to me in person too...Arigato, Mr. Roboto!

x

OMFG - Location, Location, Location

They say songs and smells (surprisingly) are the best triggers for memories from the past, but I always find that locations invoke the strongest nostalgia for me. What is it about roaming the same streets that my friends and I once drunkenly caused mischief upon or being at the same playground my siblings and I grew up on that causes me to feel almost a physical gut feeling of deja vu?

Where this is especially vivid is when it comes to past relationships. As if technology hasn't made it hard enough to forget some connections I would rather not think of often.(Facebook is a graveyard for old relationships. I had some chick comment on a picture of my ex and I from over a year ago and it showed up on my newsfeed -- not to mention the newsfeeds of my over 1000 friends. I spent the night warding off questions of whether we were back together. Thanks, chick.) Perhaps I'm just over-sensitive (which, admittedly is not an unusual when it comes to matters of the heart) but there are some places I choose to avoid on purpose.

One would think any place where a pointed falling-out between old lovers occurred would be the most obvious but it's actually quite the opposite for me. Places where we fought --whatever --I really could care less. One more reminder of why not being with them now makes that much more sense. It's places where the happiest memories took place that pull on the heart strings. Central Park where we paddled on a boat amongst the ducks, that sushi place where we always ordered for each other and any other place where similarly maudlin, borderline nauseating, actions happened are emotional landmines.

Lucky for me, my last relationship was quite the globe-trotting one and unless I plan on going to London, Paris, and New York consecutively any time soon, I'm safe. Toronto has been my hometown and thankfully any sappy memories I had in various locales there have been erased or replaced by, well, new and better ones. No one takes my city away from me, after all.

I'm in Montreal for the weekend and some places are less pleasant than others. Sensitivity? Perhaps, but feelings are feelings. At the end of the day it comes to a decision: either mourn the loss of something that no longer exists or let them remain happy memories and nothing more. The latter is the sensible choice and one that I've been able to do only recently. For me, I know my life goes happy, happier, happiest -- sure what I had once was nice, but the best is yet to come. Everything for a reason -- a belief that's never steered me wrong thus far. Take that, Central Park.

OMFG - Twitterpated When Spring Hits

My brain feels like it's 75% mush lately. My emotions are nonsensical (well, more so than usual -- I didn't think that was possible either) and what was once irrational now seems entirely possible. Blame it on a fever...or, more like Spring fever.

Even you jaded cynics can agree that when the first truly warm day of spring hits Toronto, you get just a little more optimistic about, well, everything! Although our winter barely showed its claws, it was still cold (this is Canada after all) and this past week has been a turning point -- we're in the twenties for the remainder of it and it's only March. The result? A hot and heavy case of being twitterpated.

No, it's not some social media lingo, but quite the opposite. A throwback to good old fashioned, almost obsolete slang (we can add malarkey and hunky dory to that list), twitterpated is how the wise little owl in Bambi describes the animals come Springtime to the young fawn when he asks what's come over them. In other words, it's a darling way of saying coo coo for (horny) Cocopuffs. Nothing turns a girl's thoughts to love and companionship more than lovely weather.

My guy friends aren't immune to the disease as well as they've upped their game (the single ones anyway) in the chase. Added swag here, unjustified over-confidence there. Warm breezes, dewy air, flowy dresses and copious amounts of day drinking have that affect on the youthful population. Tail hunting aside, the best part of being twitterpated isn't the romance, but the air of optimism. All us broken, damaged, or heavily weighed down hearts seem to feel fresh again. What once seemed wretched and tiresome now seems carefree and naive. And is it ever a good feeling!

Sure, the results of being twitterpated aren't necessarily productive but some times you have to just give in to your surroundings and be a little frivolous. To my fellow romantics, once-jaded converts and mended hearts...that shit cray, and ain't it lovely?
x

OMFG - Spring Cleaning.

After an almost alarmingly mild winter (global warming much?), the first truly warm days of Spring have hit my dear city of Toronto. And, as with every year, that means a bit of spring cleaning for me. Mainly my closets which tend to overflow with accumulated goods over the year, and sadly the years past. After removing three garbage bags worth of clothing from my double closets, two things were apparent to me: 1) I need to stop buying ugly leopard print shirts and dresses in an attempt to satisfy my hunt for the perfect animal print outfit (feminine, chiffon and preferably Cavalli) and 2) my closets are so much better when following Thoreau's famous words: simplify, simplify.


Well, what's good for my closet is good for life. Clutter, tangible and otherwise is just not conducive to anything. Granted, your twenties is a time of trial and error -- as in figuring out your likes and dislikes when it comes to style, people and overall lifestyle. Fashionably speaking, I've recently come to the conclusion that I just don't care for, or particularly like anything super trendy and would rather invest in a few classic pieces from say, Holts, rather than twenty trendy items from H&M. (I also just can't wrap my head around wearing anything I find remotely silly. This encompasses the entire hipster trend at the moment of crop tops, floral high pants, etc. Maybe I'm just not cool enough.) With the style mantra of feminine, elegant and timeless in mind, I easily rid of all the frivolous and girly pieces I'd long outgrown.

While tossing some ugly jeans is easy enough (I had a light pair that were bedazzled. I kid you not.), it's the non-tangible clutter in our lives that's a little harder to rid of. Deciding what even counts as unnecessary in your life can be a challenge; I know I still have trouble differentiating between what's glamorous and fun and what's detrimental to me. With so many ups and downs being inevitable, keeping one rule in mind seems to be the trick: does this make me happy long term? That last word is key. Instant gratification is easy as pie...it's long term gratification that defines maturity.

Negative influences such as (for me anyway) overly dramatic "friends", selfishness and perhaps the most detrimental of them all, cheesecake, at the end of the day aren't paths to my long term happiness. And, for the most part I've been able to kick them to the curb (except for cheesecake. But I'm working on it...kind of.) These past few warm days have coincided with some wake-up calls in my life lately and what better time of year than nature's rebirth to make some improvements! Nothing crazy -- although my fitness kick made my dad ask me in all seriousness "Are you kidding?" when I said I was going for a run -- but rather a newly conscious way of making decisions. Simply being aware of what impacts us and what doesn't makes a world of a difference. For me this means not letting silly things affect me for the worse, a renewed focus on my writing and loved ones, and my health. A total Spring cleaning I need not: just tweaking and fine-tuning. Bring on the warmer weather.

x

OMFG - Academy Award Inspired

It's Sunday evening and after watching the Oscars, I'm feeling inspired to write. The show was classic, timeless and elegant: all ideals I try to emulate in my life. (And, much like the Oscars, I have my slip up moments; Angelina's right leg, I'm looking at you.) What struck me most about the Academy Awards this year were all the truly heartfelt acceptance speeches. Not one was typical and expected, but instead each was emotional and graceful. It seemed less about the achievement and more about the relationships that brought each person to that moment Consider me smitten.

Unless you're made of stone or a robot (Sure I'm kidding, but I've met many people who come pretty darn close) it was hard not to get choked up during at least one moment. (Octavia Spencer with a win that the whole crowd was happy for was especially poignant) Meryl said it best when she accepted her Best Actress Oscar thanking not her agent and manager, but all her friends she's made throughout the duration of her lengthy career. Well that's just the best endorsement for maintaining friendships that I've ever heard!

I went out five times this week which honestly isn't that unusual for me. Granted I work promoting so three of those nights were in my own business interests, but I wouldn't do it unless I loved it. And I do. There is nothing that energizes me more than going out, having ridiculously good times with my friends and meeting new people. Friends of friends, others who work in the industry, and like-minded people in general all make for networking connections, and some times even evolve into great friendships. Whoever said you can't meet good people at clubs has never been out in Toronto.

I've made more friends from going out than I have from school, modeling and every other significant part of my life combined. And I'm not just talking about partying acquaintances (although there has been no shortage of those) but friends who I see daytime, and actually know well! For every ten duds I meet who have nothing to contribute to life, there's the quality person I meet who is driven, interesting and engaging. I find I have so much in common with my fellow club-goers, usually because of our shared enthusiasm for good times and making the most of life in general. Rarely do I connect closely with people who stay in every night...call it a difference in what you want to get out of life, but whether I'm single, in a relationship, and everything in between, having an overly-active social life in glam venues is a constant. (And glam is key here...it's not like I'm hanging out at Republic five times a week. Let us all collectively shudder at the thought.)

Life, for me at least, is knowing where you want to go and who you want to go there with. At twenty four, I may be still figuring out where I want to go, but I definitely know who I want to be with. My family. My friends. My love. That first is decided, the second I choose and third is still up in the air. Another thing about the second? There's always room for more. Here's to an inspiring Academy Awards and acknowledging all the people we connect with on our way to greatness...x

OMFG - Happy Valentine's Day! (No, Really)

The single girl being bitter on Valentine's Day has been done to death in the media. Burning photos of exes, binge eating chocolates and being an overall weepy mess is an archetype we can recall from our favorite romantic comedies, past and present. (Jennifer Garner beating the crap out of a heart-shaped pinata in Valentine's Day, for one.)  Seeing that in the movies is one thing. Being that in real life is another.

It's just pointless to be a Debbie Downer on Valentine's Day. (Or as my friend Sean has called it for as long as I can remember, Single's Appreciation Day aka S.A.D...ha!) I've been there, done that, and it does nothing except make you more sad. Let me note that in all my 24 years I have never had a successfully romantic V-day. This includes three years with a boyfriend -- and that right there should succinctly tell you why we are no longer together. Still, with that pathetic romantic history in mind, I have no desire to throw rocks at PDA-ing couples or cringe at anything love related.

Aside from the occasional emotional landmine (certain songs are the worst..) I'm pretty much a happy camper on the love front. Any swaying in the other direction is quickly dispelled by the presence of my lovely parents and their flawless 56 year marriage. If being in the presence of true love for your entire life doesn't make a hopeless romantic out of you, I don't know what will.

I'll be spending tomorrow night having dinner with three of my most wonderful friends then hosting a night out (a thrice weekly occurrence as I work in promotions) at Toronto's Thompson rooftop. We named the event Hearts on Fire and many are taking it as the anti-Valentine's day place to be, but really it's just going to be a gathering a good people having a good time. Happy hearts, sad hearts, and most certainly hearts on fire are welcome.

If a recently brutally heartbroken, now single model who works in the jaded nightlife industry can happily support love on its celebratory day, then really, all you Sad Sallies out there have no excuse! Happy Valentine's Day lovers! x

OMFG - Audio Sex.

Etta James passed away last week and with that news we all remembered her most famous song, At Last. Beautiful, simple and lovely, it has always been one of my favorite classic love songs. But, in this modern world where synth beats prove sexier than violins, I think it's time for a little update. Here are a few of my favorite modern songs to set the mood to!

1. Time is Running Out - Muse
This song has the hottest intro, I think, ever. Low, sexy, and just a little bit menacing...in the sexiest way of course. While lead singer Matthew Bellamy made us all collectively groan when he ran off with Kate Hudson (ugh, like, really?), as long as they continue to make smooth songs like this, we'll forgive him. (And they have a baby now or whatever so we'll make an exception.) Despite its slightly disturbing lyrics, the song is aggressive in an amorous possessive way, rather than a serial killer way. Or at least that's how I see it. You will be the death of me can either be totally creepy or totally romantic...I'm going to go with the latter.
Even if Bellamy sang about murder, I'd still have this song on the list for the intro alone.
Listen to it here!

2. Lost Without You - Robin Thicke
Where Barry White is the deep, baritone voice of liquid sex from generations past, Robin Thicke's voice is pure ear sex for us today. Opposite to White in every way (soprano...and a lean, white dude) except that their songs all make for some seriously romantic moods. Quite simply a song about how much he loves and admires a woman, the fact that it was written for, and the video stars, his real-life wife Paula Patton makes me swoon. With just the right number of ooh's and aah's without being cheesy and a subtle guitar accompaniment, this one never gets old.
Listen to it here!

3. High for This - The Weekend
What did we all get down to before the Weekend? Toronto's very own underground superstar is the new standard of music for baby-making. Some times you have proper romance with dinner, drinks and manners. And some times you have 3 a.m. drug-fueled illicit entanglements you can only get away with in your twenties. You can guess which of the two scenarios this song is for. It literally beckons one to get high and make some sweet lovin'. Intense, shiver-inducing and smooth as silk, this is one for those nights out that end in the best way possible. And hey, if you and your lover are past the point of coherence, the lyrics are pretty much a step-by-step guide of what to do! Win.
Listen to it here!

4. Futuresex/Lovesounds - Justin Timberlake
Before JT went all mediocre actor on us, he made some pretty decent music. While Justified was loved mainly by aged teenyboppers, his sophomore album Futuresex/Lovesounds was kind of awesome. The title track is by far my favorite. Slickity slick slick is the only way to describe it. Sexy but not obscene lyrics, synthesized but not overdone and with a bass made to grind to, it's subtle, modern and suggestive. Every time I listen to it, it makes me hate Jessica Biel just a little bit more than I did 4:02 minutes ago. Sexyback can suck it, this is where sexy is at.
Listen to it here!

5. Bed - J. Holiday
Every sexy song list needs a good ole' RnB clincher. I had to stop myself from putting Ginuwine's Pony on here (Best. Grinding. Song. Ever.) and instead went the more romantic route with J. Holiday. Don't let his neck tattoo fool you...this song is sweet sensuousness at its best. Another soprano male voice (I think I'm seeing  trend here..), the lyrics are so loving they're almost precious. Seriously, I don't think there's an RnB song out there as endearingly worded as this one. Love is war, I'm your soldier is my favorite line from a song, ever. Irresistible.
Listen to it here!

OMFG - The Every Girl's Guide to Clubbing

We all know partying is awesome. But those of us who know just how awesome it is are the ones who do it a lot. And girls, I can say without a doubt that I fall into that category. From sneaky underage teen, to student partying, to going out as a naive model, to hard-partying model and now a promoter, I share with you all the clubby wisdom I've learned during my slightly inebriated (okay, heavily) years out. 

- Get in good with the promoters.

This is as basic as it gets. If you want to be taken care of in the future, get in good it the promoters. Don't know what promoters are? You probably should leave King West in favor of your local pub instead. This is easier than it sounds. I'm a relatively rare female promoter and am as social as they come. Walk up to me, be nice, make sure I remember your name and get your number and you're golden. It's even easier with dude promoters. Ladies, wearing something with a little T and a little A and introducing yourself will suffice. Sound fake and sleazy? Again, if this borders on morally wrong for you, I hear there are plenty of nice, local Irish pubs midtown.

- Tip the bathroom lady. 
If you tend to frequent the same clubs on the same nights, chances are you're being offered paper towel by the same bathroom attendant each visit. Tip this woman, and tip her well. And, if you're coherent enough to string together sentences, engage in small talk. Why? The bathroom is where most, if not all, illicit club behavior goes down and goodness knows you don't want to be disturbed when partaking in illicit behavior. I am sure to get a hug every time I see the bathroom lady at the club I promote at on Friday nights. I am also sure I could get away with murder in there. And hey, if you're not quite as illicitly inclined as yours truly, at least it's guaranteed access to hairspray and gum.

- Don't be a bottle fiend.
So you've gotten in good with the promoters and there's usually a booth and bottles waiting for you upon arrival. Usually. There is nothing, and I mean nothing more annoying than a bottle fiend -- you know, those chicks who ask every 5 minutes when the bottle is arriving. There are ways to get drinks before the bottle comes. It involves asking the bartender for one, and giving them little rectangle pieces of paper in return. Yes, ladies, you can buy your own drinks on occasion! I get many a "as if I have to purchase my own drink" huffy face from girls all the time, but darling, if you can't afford to drop $20 (or less!) on a drink then I feel bad. Mainly because you'd be better off not by the bar, but working the room as a hooker instead. Gotta get that cab fare home somehow, right?! If the logic still stumps you, think of it this way; by the time you finish your one purchased drink, the bottle will have arrived and you can guzzle that like a baby until the nights over, or until you pass out. Which ever comes first.

-The early bird gets the worm.
And by worm, I mean hassle free entry to the club. There's no need to arrive at 10 (unless you'd like to help set up the booths with staff) but rolling up at 1a.m. with a crew and expecting to waltz in is risky. Unless you know the promoters well (and as one I must say it's a headache to get friends in when its packed and late.) Or are sleeping with the owners (that's the AMEX black card of clubbing...but less exclusive.) Chances are you're going to be waiting. And this is Canada, so half the time that's waiting in the cold. Do the smart thing and breeze in at a timely 11:30. You'll be part of the action...no sleeping with the owners necessary. 

- Don't BYOD.

As in don't Bring Your Own Drugs. I'm not saying everyone does them and no one talks about it...wait no, that's exactly what I'm saying! Either do them before you get there, or purchase on location. Worried about there not being any dealers around? Of course there will be! That old-ish, ugly, leather-jacket clad dude inexplicably in the VIP section? He's one. The really short guy in a way-too-low v-neck and a perma-grin on his face with bulging eyes? He's one too. And if not, subtly ask a few people and they'll direct you to the right source. Getting caught with anything at the door means slight embarrassment and worse, you just wasted your stash. It's all about location, location, location. 


And there you have it...a girl's guide to clubbing as easily as possible. Slightly scandalous perhaps, but nothing more than what happens on a usual night at any given club. See you out and about ladies...x

Delusions of Granduer...OMFG

Happy New Year darling blogees! Don't be alarmed by the stark new appearance of OMFG...simply keeping it simple until I enlist the help of a techie friend to redesign the whole thing. In typical me-fashion, out of nowhere I decided the former layout was absolutely intolerable and had to be scratched immediately, if not sooner.

The ringing in of a new year means one thing for most: resolutions. Mine are normally the same and usually broken by the first week or so: eat less dessert (pftttt), exercise more (pftttt) and spend more time with family (okay, that one I do tend to keep). I find resolutions to be small, logical goals everyone aspires to integrate into their everyday lives...in other words, no fun at all. What I prefer to live by are delusions of grandeur. Of course, the difficult part with delusions is that they tend to remain in your head-space instead of in real space.

But, alas, I choose to live with one foot soundly tethered to the ground and the rest of me floating in the clouds. Makes for a mildly conflicted existence, but after twenty-four years of so of doing so, I can't imagine functioning any other way. To my credit, several of my nonsensical delusions have come true thus far in life...travel to New York as a model, insane comped trip to Vegas, visiting the homeland, aka Asia, with my family and meeting all my extended family there as well as partying my little face off in several continents. With such luck in having my seemingly far-fetched goals fulfilled thus far, one can only continue to dream.

Carrie's Vogue boss on Sex and the City once said "you can have it all...it just won't look like what you pictured it" and while first watching the episode, I remember whole-heartedly agreeing at the wisdom and truth of such a statement. A couple years later and what do I think? That line is a bunch of hooey. It's going to look exactly how you want it to as long as dreaming isn't all you do. Lost as I may be right now (and at twenty-four I'm going to pardon myself for a few more years before terror sinks in), I know my delusions of grandeur remain in focus daily and get a little closer each day.

Another resolution of mine this year? Curing my insomnia. Although it seems the hours between 2 and 6 in the morning are some of my most productive...how else can you explain blogging at 4 a.m.? It's back to bed and hopefully some sleep for me blogees! Happy dreaming! x