OMFG - The Scariest Part of Your Twenties..

As my brother, the last of my siblings, moved out of our parents home this week, I came to the horrifying realization that this was it. My sister, myself and now my brother were all officially adults. Little birdies no more...we had flown the coop and entered the air sans safety net.

Okay, okay, I feel like throughout my twenties thus far I've had freakouts about becoming an adult at least on a bi-monthly basis. Bi-weekly is more like it. But there's something about all three of us being there that struck a particularly realistic chord. Perhaps the scariest realization about being an adult is that the only person you can count on is yourself. I mean this in the least desolate and dramatic way possible -- of course we all have good friends and family there to help us in a true bind but being self-sufficient is, in my humble opinion anyway, a sign of maturity.

The hardest lesson I've learned thus far in this precocious decade? To bank on yourself. And mean it. With a job that has all the security of iCloud (read: none) and an affinity for a life with ample flexibility and wonder, my stability levels are entirely dependent on one thing: me, myself and I.

Promoting is one of those jobs that should come with a slogan ripped right from MTV Diary Of.. "You think you know but you have no idea." I chuckle at those who think all it requires is showing up for a few hours a couple times a week to drink vodka and bop around in the booth. This lovely condo and YSL heels didn't come from bopping. What started out as shits and giggles working for my former business partner as essentially a party girl turned into a quick realization of what could be made here and thus the Risk pieces on the King West board that is my life started to form. That was four years ago. And even today, while established on the scene, it is still a constant hustle and grind to stay relevant and in demand.

How hard you grind is directly correlated to how well things go. An obvious statement? Yes. But one that only turns into a stable means when you know you have what it takes. This is applicable to all careers whether it be the perpetual hustling path that I chose to take or more conventional routes I know many of my friends to be on. I've learned to not freak out as much knowing that I can depend on myself even though my only security system is my laptop, phone, and whatever I choose to do with them. Four years of ups and downs and lessons and learning and perspective and yes, even more freakouts, have led to finally being able to bank on myself. Being my own security system? I'll take that over iCloud any day.

Surely there will be plenty of dips and dives while we're out here flying but having that added twenty-something faith in yourself sure does make the ride less turbulent. Up, up and away dear readers! x 

The Ultimate Twenty-Something Bucket List - OMFG

My newsfeed is always full of articles with titles such as 30 Places to See Before You Die, 20 Roadtrips to Take in Your Twenties, and, well, you get the gist. Even I'm guilty of posting a bucket-list type article every so often! But, that's where it ends, at merely posting it. Dreaming of living and living the dream are two very different things and for most of us, dreaming is the furthest we go. Being proactive is scarce when your comfort zone is -- well pretty damn comfortable.

I'd like to think I've led a relatively interesting life. A good amount of travel, some crazy experiences, and a few utter last minute decisions where I've packed up and just gotten the hell out of this city for more than a vacation because I could. But, even with all I've done, I still feel as though I've only written one chapter, if that, in the Great Canadian Novel that is to be my life. (Note: the only chapter fully written would be that on desserts. I am an expert.)

With that I present to you my twenty-something bucket list! Not simply a list of things I haven't done, like the bucket lists I wrote when I was little were comprised of; (Swim with dolphins: check!), but a proper twenty-something bucket list of experiences. Really effing awesome experiences.

Be an artist.

We all know right-brained people are taking over the world. It's all about the creative class nowadays and to create is an essential part of the twenty-something (and beyond!) experience. With so many outlets at our artistic disposal, and with even more social mediums to share the creative process than ever, being an artsy-fartsy has never been more accessible. Sounds intimidating, but I'm not looking to mastermind the next Jay-Z interactive performance art installation here (yet, anyway) -- brush to canvas, camera to travel, anything so long as they get the creative juices going! Start small then go big...but always be creating. 

Be an explorer.

I'm in about the same physical shape as a couch. (See: dessert expert chapter) Skinny, yes, but more of a plump skinny-fat, if you will. While not exactly motivated by physical activity, I very well know that some of the most raw and spectacular places on Earth are only accessible to those who pick their asses up off the ground and move. Machu Picchu has always been a trek I've wanted to hike, as well as some of the crazy river paths in Southeast Asia. River Monsters is, I kid you not, one of my favorite shows. Getting into shape in order to see big-ass scary monster fish halfway across the world? Um, I literally cannot think of a better reason. 

An ultimate foodie experience.

While dessert is the love of my life, I'm a fan of food in general. There's pretty much nothing I won't try and there's quite a lot of unappealing delicacies I rather enjoy. (Weird animal innards, weird animals and what have you -- bring it on.) I've been lucky enough to dine at some of the best restaurants in the world but I've still yet to have an ultimate foodie experience. I came pretty close in Tokyo, seeing the Tsukiji Fish Market in action then eating hands-down the best sushi of my life -- but there's still much to see, and most importantly taste, for me in the culinary realm. Truffle hunting, cooking lessons in Tuscany, the full farm-to-plate experience...I could go on. My stomach is rumbling already.

Learn a new language.

The two languages I speak are English, and a made up language my best friend taught me that she learned from camp when we were in junior high. Yup. So there's definitely room for me to grow in that department! Rather than go the Rosetta Stone route, to get a check-off on this list I require learning it first-hand by immersing myself in another culture. Think Under The Tuscan Sun except everyone is twenty years younger. Soaking in another culture is the most cliched of all bucket list experiences but it's for a reason -- quintessential to knowing what you want is educating yourself on all your options, the world over. Soak it all in, kids.

Fall in love....unconditionally.

This may be the hardest one on this bucket list of all. Falling in love in your twenties is no easy feat -- stupid crap we carry around from past trysts, pressure to make the most of the decade life-experience-wise while simultaneously having to somehow figure out our futures makes it damn near impossible. However if you do find that little needle of love in the dating haystack, do it properly and give it a fair chance. No inhibitions, no defense mechanisms and entirely whole-heartedly. Goodness knows I've messed up more than a few relationships with my insecurities and over-thinking. It's easier said than done and there's no guarantee it will be painless, but you never know until you truly try. Stupid crap, begone!

We all know that the times you dive head-first outside your comfort zone are simply the best. Like, the freaking best. They're thrilling, they're scary and they're unpredictable --  all in exciting and momentum-fueled ways. We all get to know ourselves much better when we're in the unknown rather than idly coasting along. This list is merely one I've set for myself; revise it, personalize it, but most importantly make one that gets you outside your comfort zone. The world awaits.

x

OMFG -- Is there REALLY such thing as The One?

In a word, no.

But, let's not be entirely cynical and jaded now. Let's take a twenty-something's experience-provoked look at the matter, shall we?

I think it's safe to say that we have all, hopeless romantic or not, pondered whether the idea of there being one perfect person for each of us out there exists. You know, a soul mate! A Romeo to Juliet, a Jack to Rose, a little old man from Up! to the little old lady from Up! A destined being who loves us as we are, flaws and all, and we them, and rainbows and unicorns and butterflies and whatever.

I, more than anyone, desired this to be true. (Excuse me while I get a bit maudlin for a second..) My parents, a perfect union present my entire life have a marriage going on 38 years strong now. They moved here from Hong Kong in 1975, married, and have worked as a team together to build not only a happy marriage, but a happy life for my siblings and I. Soul mates? I believed ever since I was little that if ever a thing such existed, it existed in my parents.

But alas, being the starry-eyed girl I was, entering the dating scene with such an unrealistic idea of love in my head proved to be quite challenging. With my skewed vision, I thought if it was meant to be, it would be easy. And to be passionately in love was an overwhelming, Earth-shattering feeling that would never end. Um, nope! Not at all. I don't need to tell you guys that relationships are hard. Effort, compromise, tact and all that jazz in general. 

Love is nice but never enough. I hear of fewer and fewer couples who choose to stay together when the odds are against them. It is an opportunistic, cut-throat, defensive jungle out there and once we go a little awry, it is much easier to dispose than salvage. When all of us are meeting a million new people a mile a minute, the odds of finding some one better just seem that much more tantalizing, now don't they?

But perhaps in our quick-to-jump-ship minds, we've abandoned those who could of been The One material. Destiny is a nice notion, but you can't just expect to lay back and let the universe do the work. Like Blair Waldorf once quipped: "Destiny is for losers. It's just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen." Not that Blair was the epitome of wise relationship advice, or any advice really, but this gem of a quote certainly rings true. 

Make things happen. Don't expect The One to suddenly appear in your life but rather work at relationships with significant others you deem worth your while. Who knows, you might just cultivate a soul mate along the way. Or at the very best, some rainbows and unicorns and butterflies...or whatever.
x

OMFG - The Chase: Expectation vs. Reality

Ever since Joseph Gordon-Levitt showed us his split-screen expectation versus reality vision in (the amazing, but also depressingly realistic) 500 Days of Summer, we collectively sighed. No, not over his adorably offbeat charm...but rather because we've all been there. The good old dating game! It never quite lives up to how we picture it, now does it?

Delusions of grandeur are exactly that...delusions. We romantics perhaps have it a bit worse than the rest, but I'd say, even in this jaded and opportunistic urban dating world, everyone is guilty of building things up in their pretty little heads. You want him to do this or lavish you with that, or do that thing that hot leading dude in that rom-com did for his leading lady. (Gosling/Tatum, I'm looking at you!) He, on the other hand, wants you to act this way or do that, or behave like that lady-in-the-streets but freak-in-the-bed chick he saw in that one movie. It's confusing and disappointing and pointless. The key? Adjusting your expectations.

Easier said than done, my fellow daters! The honeymoon period is called so precisely for a reason: the excitement, the courting, the chase...it's absolute heaven. There's nothing quite like the chase and a guy will likely pull out all the romantic, showy stops to get you from eye candy to bed candy...or sometimes girlfriend candy as well. I'm not saying men have to be utter showmen for the duration of the union, but guys...don't do anything you don't plan on up-keeping at least in some way while you're with her.

You can court the crap out of your girl at the beginning, but unless you genuinely can maintain that sort of behavior and, more so, think she deserves it (even after you're with her) then just don't. Seriously. Yes, we're talking financially (it's not like you're comping dinners to the company card here) but also affection-wise. It is more than irksome when a man starts off being intense and intimate and just fades from there. Cue the instant downer sound now. Either she'll resent you for thinking that you were at a level you weren't (or had stronger feelings for her than you do) or you'll resent her for having to execute actions you're just not interested in. Yes, we get it, the chase is the chase, but make it somewhat believable.

And to my girls who get swept away as easily as one, two, Louboutin -- throw in a little logic with those rose-tinted glasses! If he's whisking you away to St. Tropez, or wining and dining you to a ridiculous point within the first few weeks, it's not a good sign. Unless you want to be a little trophy or are a shameless gold digger (both totally plausible options in this city - and if that's your thing - by all means) then steer clear my friends, steer clear.

The trick to adjusting your expectations? Be happy with yourself as is. Anything on top of that will be a nice added perk! Anything that falls short, well, won't matter because you'll be fine one way or the other. Self-loathing makes for all-too-easy delusions of grandeur. Enjoy the chase, go along for the ride, but don't forget to self-tint those rose-colored glasses every now and then. x

Thank Goodness For Girl Friends - OMFG

Friends -- good friends -- and all the crazy shenanigans you get into with them, are what we'll all remember the most from our twenties. That time we partook in illicit behavior with that celebrity at 4 a.m. in Miami? Awesome. That time we all took this or that at the cottage and hilariously mused about life? Epic. That time we had to carry insert the one friend who always goes overboard out of that really fancy club and watched him/her vomit on the lawn then try and convince us to go back out partying? Less fun....but still a sick (literally) memory. While co-ed fun is always solid, there's something to be said for good times with your bros/girls. After all, Entourage and Sex and the City were both wildly popular for a reason.

As I creep into my late twenties, I've come to value my close girl friends more and more. Emphasis on the close. We're not talking fake club hugs and air kiss this and air kiss that while you vapidly discuss just where she got that divine sample sale clutch. No. We're talking real ass bitches who know you without the night time make-up. The ones you can sit around in sweats with and talk about every little uncertainty you have about life while they share theirs.

Now that we're all leading adult (ish) lives, there's been a transition from quantity to quality. Gone are the days when we all lived within a stone's throw of each other and had endless time to just hang out. Obsessive texting of boy crisis updates as they happen are a thing of the past. One of my closest girl friends and I haven't lived in the same city for years now and are still closer than ever. I've always maintained that distance and friendship have absolutely nothing to do with each other! (Thank you Skype, Viber, and especially Whatsapp -- because sometimes you just need to know that the grumpy cat photo you sent has been seen.)

A five minute talk with my bestie (and yes...no matter how old I get I will have a bestie and refer to her as my bestie) is all it takes to get me out of whatever ridiculous mood I might be in...and I'm proud to say I can do the same for several of my good girl friends as well. Like relationships, friendships only work when you both make each other better people. If she's happy for your successes (and never jealous), supports your at-times poor, irrational decisions (and is there for you during the aftermath), and you can still both get into as much trouble as you did when you were eighteen, then chances are you've found a close girl friend for life.

What has me feeling a sudden burst of love for my darling girls? Perhaps it's the holiday season that has me particularly maudlin. Or maybe, it's just an ongoing appreciation for all the forward-moving, mood-swinging, potty-mouthed, risk-taking, complicated and intelligent women in my life. Carrie once said it was about finding someone to run wild with you...she was of course, referring to her search for a spouse. I think Carrie got it partially right; it is all about finding someone to run wild with you -- not a spouse -- but rather a pack of good girl friends. I'll cheers my Cosmo to that. x

OMFG - Do Nice Guys Actually Finish Last?

In the past little while I've read a plethora of articles online about how hard nice guys have it. Mostly opinion, some satire. (Think Vice, Elite Daily, that sort of thing.) They've all been interesting, slightly offensive, and mildly accurate, at best. They do, however, all come to one sad conclusion: in the dating game, nice guys finish dead last. My goodness, what is it about us silly, emotional, self-hating women that causes us to love assholes and make nice guys so utterly miserable? Aren't we just the worst?

Well no. I love how all these articles single-handedly blame women for the demise of the Nice Guy. We're just begging to be treated like shit, apparently, so men oblige as if they're doing us a favor. Here's the thing: women who are happily dating nice guys don't go on writing rampages about it. They also don't rant to all their friends about it. So in truth, the Nice Guy who is happily in a relationship gets a lot less press than the scorned one. And of course he gets a whole lot less press than the Asshole who walks away from his dealings with girls like men in skinny ties and sunglasses walk away from explosions in movies. When it comes to love, we talk about our problems, not our happiness. (No one would of gone to see The Notebook if they just went and got married after happily dating, now would they.)

In my twenty six years of dating, and in my twenty six years of girl friends sharing their stories of the perils of dating, I can truly say there is nothing wrong with nice guys. I welcome them. The problem with dating nice guys is how nice they are in comparison to you...it's the scale of relativity for niceness. Not kidding! For example, I was too nice for one ex (practically an angel in his eyes) and ultimately the devil in the eyes of my next ex. One just happened to be more apt to bad behavior and wavering morals while the other was black and white in his principles. Each saw me accordingly. (Model, promoter, party-loving, flighty, and ice cold when provoked...yet intensely close to my family, university educated, and overly caring and loyal. Confusing, I get it.) It's not that girls don't like nice guys...it's that girls don't like guys that are nicer than they are.

The whole damsel in distress ploy is a thing of the past. Unless a girl is seriously damaged, there's no need for any saving to be done. We're looking for an equally distressed dude to come along for the ride. I've always said, it's not about finding a partner in life, but a partner in crime. This doesn't mean a rag-tag looking, authority-defying, cad of a man, but simply some one who treats me well because he thinks I'm freaking awesome...and not because he's trying to be the Nice Guy.

Apparently I've been blind to a nice guy or two trying to garner my attention, as my girl friends have pointed out. The argument of nice being boring comes to mind, but really, it's just that sparks didn't fly! Nice or not nice, you need the zsa zsa zou to get any relationship going. So men, quit trying to be the Nice Guy and just be the Awesome Dude...i.e. yourself. We smart girls are bound to see what's real and what's fake sooner than you'd think.

So no, we don't want to be stood up, ignored, lied to or treated like shit in general. We like real men who can handle themselves and us as well without relying on stupid little archetypes. The Asshole might not finish last, and neither does the Nice Guy...but you know who does? The Whiny Nice Guy. x

OMFG...How Long Will Your Summer Fling Last?

As the sun beats hot and heavy during the day and the air is warm and inviting at night, we all can't help but get a little twitterpated with the season. (That's college talk for horny, in case you didn't know.) That wise little owl called it when he told Bambi, "Oh yes, nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime." Less clothes, more hooking up, to put it bluntly. And so, with copious flings to be flung here, there, and everywhere, just how does one know what will last and what won't? Allow me to help you, darling bloggees: the Ultimate Guide to How Long Your Summer Fling Will Last based on where and how you met...shall we?

Where?
At the club.

How long will it last?
One night - a few months
This one is not as obvious as you'd think. Sure, one night stands are the result of many a club night but there are lots of decent people who go out as well. (Yes, I'm a promoter and perhaps biased, but the truth is clubs aren't just for flashy drug-addled scene kids.) Granted that you both can go out together without getting into stupid drunk fights, a relationship can endure. However, let's face it, these whirlwind, drunk, dancey, showy bonds tend to fizzle after a few months when the infatuation is over. Usher can sing it, but it ain't the truth: there's no real love in this club.

Will there be fallout?
Oh god yes. Lots, and lots, and lots of never-ending fallout. Listen, if they picked you up at the club, they're going to do it again. And again. And again. And chances are you're going to have to see it grinding and getting nasty all up in your drunk face every time you go there. Clubs = stomping grounds. Either get a new one or find a way to get your ex out of there. (Slipping the bouncer a smile and a crisp fifty does the trick, but you didn't hear that from me..)

Where?
At a music festival.

How long will it last?
Two weeks.
Unless it was some sort of classical music festival, chances are you and your potential love were decidedly NOT sober upon meeting. Bonding intensely over music is a strong connection...and surely drugs and whatever else you ingested there made it seem stronger. A couple weeks worth of fun jaunts, skipping around together while wearing cut-offs and holding hands, and you've got yourself a cute little summer fling, but not much else.

Will there be fallout?
Nah. Just make sure your Bonnaroo ticket is in V.I.P. while they can mingle in the general admission area.. far away from you. 

Where?
Online.

How long will it last?
One date or forever.
Stigma or no stigma, I've heard more than a few success stories when it comes to meeting companions via online dating. Granted, I'm referring to online dating sites with tedious and in-depth profiles such as Lava Life or eHarmony as opposed to, say Tinder, which is essentially the online equivalent of scanning faces at a bar. But, I've also heard more than a few horror stories where expectation and reality of the person were worlds apart...so generally a summer fling via online dating goes one of two ways: 1) you venture out on one disastrous first date where you find out "entrepreneur" actually meant "lives in mom's basement and jots down ideas every once in a while" and never respond to them again or 2) you venture out on one highly compatible first date that leads to something solid. High risk, but high reward.

Will there be fallout?
Nope. The best part about online anything is the anonymity. You can disappear online as quickly as click, click, click. But, avoid their favorite restaurants and any other hot spots they listed in their profile...just to be safe.

Where?
Your phone book...in other words the Ex.

How long will it last?
Until the end of summer.
Here's the thing with exes -- if it didn't work out once, it probably isn't going to work again. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, I was definitely insane then when it came to a few of my exes. They haven't changed, and neither have you. But, there's always going to be that initial spark, i.e. the reason you got together in the first place. And with that spark, a lack of other options, the comfort of familiarity, and that optimistic ambiance that comes with this damn summer air...some times, you're bound to relapse. It'll be great for a bit but then crumble and crumble hard. Annoying habits, different goals, real jobs or just plain incompatibility cuts harsh without the summer blanket to cover it. If it's a mistake you have to make, so be it. But you know what they say; insane in the membrane, insane in the brain. (You're insane. Duh.)

Will there be fallout?
Hells to the yes. Be prepared for both of you to get all crazy possessive like when you initially broke up: as in social media stalking each other to see who's hooking up with who post-break-up and if these new people are in fact new or people who came between you before. Just thinking about the fallout is giving me a headache. Oy.

Where?
At T.I.F.F.

How long will it last?
One night...if that.
Is him/her famous? Did they say they had an "agreement" with his/her well-known significant other? Did his/her handler approach you and pick you up instead of him/her personally? Was he/she kind of an elusive asshole up until the hook-up? Are you super naive? Do you see where I'm going with this?

Will there be fallout?
Are you famous? No? Then no.

Where?
At work.

How long will it last?
One year - long term.
Ah, work. A somewhat sane and stable environment to meet people within! You'll know you can put up with them on a day to day basis (you work together after all), and you know you have similar lifestyles and goals (again..you work together.) Add a little chemistry and charm and you've got yourself one legit summer fling...and possibly more! Oh, should you work in the modeling, nightlife, fitness, events, concert, and/or the fashion industry....none of this applies to you. Good luck to us all. (#foreveralone)

Will there be fallout?
Obviously. The saying don't shit where you eat exists for a reason. As long as it doesn't end nastily, the fallout can be minimal. You're seeing each other in a professional and not leisure setting, so after what might be a few weeks/months of awkward interactions, getting back to strictly business is totally possible.

And there you have it lovelies, a guide to summer flinging! Regardless of where you meet them, all we can ever do in romance is find some one you like and roll the dice.  It's inevitable, it's fun and goodness, it's finally summer...so like the wise owl said, get a twitterpatin'. x

How to Hone Your Bitch-dar; Keeping Nasty Gals Away

Bitches be crazy. With men, sure. But with other women...well that's a whole other level. When Congreve penned his infamous line hell hath no fury like a woman scorned in the 1600's, he probably should of modified it to anticipate modern times: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...by bitches. Now, I'm no hater of other girls by any means. Actually, it's precisely the fact that I'm a girl's girl which makes betrayal of female friendship so unleashing of said fury. So, how does a lovely and loyal girl such as yourself make sure you never feel the bitch betrayal? It's as simple as honing in on your bitch-dar, with these tips and tricks of the girl trade. Allow me to elaborate:

- Hateful on being grateful.

I'm a grateful person by nature; living a happy and fulfilled life is only perpetuated by remaining so, in my opinion. I don't take anything for granted, including friendship. (And travel. And music. And sushi. And dessert. Dessert. And more dessert. Let's just say I'm forever grateful for all desserts.) Get your bitch-dar red flags to half mast if you recognize a girl friend who just seems ungrateful...for everyone and everything in her life. I've seen this more so in models than any other demographic of friends, I assume because being beautiful often makes things come easier than they would for those who have to work for model-afforded perks. (Trips, designer clothes, comped dinner, etc.) This observation is not without exception though as a some of my most mind-blowingly gorgeous model friends also possess the most gratitude. Nonetheless, model or otherwise, if she's ungrateful for what you do for her, it's because she doesn't value it. And girls who value very little have the loyalty levels of zip to zilch. I think I can speak for all thanks-giving girls alike when I say no thanks.

- Lost, lonely, little girl.

I have a ton of girl acquaintances, a fair number of close girl friends, a handful of super close girl friends, and one best friend and one sister, both of whom I would trust with my life...or my last piece of cheesecake. We all stay in pretty much constant communication (maybe a little too much -- I know what my sister eats everyday for every meal and vice-versa...seriously) whether it be via perpetual texting, or in-person hangs. While this sounds excessive, most girls are the same way. While men can be lone wolves of (usually) cultivated mystery and aloofness, women tend to be sharers who bond by doing exactly that -- sharing. (One need only watch the Friends episode where Rachel encourages Ross to share with his guy friends the way she does with her gals to see the benefits.) If a girl says you're her only girl friend, or that she, and I quote "usually doesn't get along with other girls", well honey, it's for a damn reason. Girlfriend is going to screw you over...and soon. Such ostracized members of the female sex tend to thrive on 1) male attention and 2) competition. You'll get in her way and she'll cut you down, or she'll step on you on her way to whatever top spot she deems hers. Pass.

-  Too much, too fast....and not in a good way.

We live in an era of fast friends. You meet out through friends once or twice, you have one solid day time hang, and suddenly you're posting inside jokes on each others' Facebook walls, pre-gaming together before every club outing and proclaiming "OMG loooove you!" all the freaking time. I've been there, you've been there, we've all been there. I'd say one in every twenty of these friendships turn out to be the real thing while the rest...well let's just say easy come, easy go, especially when you're an easy (friendship) ho. Girls that tend to latch on and get all up in your life way too fast just strike me as...odd. There's no need for a friend to social climb over all normal boundaries to either date all your friends or befriend all your friends. It's creepy. It's weird. And there's probably a reason she's running away from her life and taking over yours. Obsessive relationships are for junior high kids and bad movies. (Hello, Swimfan.)

- (Don't) save our souls.

A wise man once told me "You can't save everybody Sheila." Sure, this was at an afterparty at 4 a.m. and that wise man was not sober, but the gist of his words was accurate. I have this habit of finding lost girls and wanting to save them through being there for them...endlessly. This has perhaps been the most acute lesson of my twenties when it comes to friendship: you can't help those who don't want to help themselves. I've been burned more than a few times by still giving myself to such friends who have hurt me simply because I know their lives are more messed than mine will ever be. But alas, some people are beyond my capabilities, or more accurately put, just don't wanna change. Self-loathing, torn families, tragic incidents and substance-fueled pasts don't have to mean dark presents or futures...but if a friend has no desire to change, then c'est la (or c'est their) vie. Not yours.

Finely honing your bitch-dar takes a little know how and a lot of experience. At the ripe old age of 26, I can say I've had a sufficient amount of both the former and the latter. There's no need to be cutthroat or cold about any of this -- but perhaps a little perspective will help with this guide: friendship is a privilege, not a right, and by now I know to bestow this privilege only on those who I see fit. Add positively to my life, or don't add to it at all. Happy honing, my darling readers! Scorned, schmorned...ain't nobody got time for that. x

Universal Heartbreak, OMFG

Heartbreak....the universal equalizer. No matter how nice, how caring, how beautiful, or on the contrary, how scummy, ruthless and less than lovely one is, we have all been heartbroken by the time we're in our mid twenties. It's the one experience that brings us down to Earth, and one we can all relate to. I've heard two people who have entirely nothing in common...even a slight hatred for each other...bond over deep conversation of a messy break up. Once you've had that gut-wrenching, devastatingly empty feeling hit your stomach and work its way up to your heart, all you want to do is share the misery with others.

Why have I chosen to revive my darling little blog over such a dismal subject? Take a wild guess. Oh, that's right, I've just been equalized. Just a little over a year after already being equalized SO harshly that I thought I'd never experience an equalizing ever again. Turns out, I was wrong. I'm beginning to think I've a slight penchant for sadism when it comes to my love life. Every guy I've fallen for seems to agree.

All right, all right. I won't go all pity party on myself. This break up is actually (praise the heavens above) a lot less painful than my first was. Nothing quite gets you like first love...we're all a little wiser after that psychotic, spellbinding and utterly magical experience we go through with the first people we are mutually infatuated with. No, this time around I've been something of a schizophrenic headcase. It's a little wallowing in misery followed by overly feminist man-bashing followed by analytical "where did it all go wrong!?" bouts, and capped off finally with am I a good person?! Is he?! spazzes. (Yes, and to-be-decided are the answers to those, in case you were wondering.) This is all interspersed with social media creeping and torturing myself with touching memories we shared all but two weeks ago.

The silver lining on this cloud of gray is that I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. It has thus far in my life, and will continue to. Something, or some one, leaves your life so you can appreciate some one better soon on their way. We are one hundred percent of the time exactly where we are supposed to be in life at that very moment. Skeptics may write this off as comforting malarkey us down-in-the-dumps souls use to make ourselves feel better but to them I say talk to me in a year. I guarantee you I will be happier in all areas of my life than I am today. You live and you learn -- it's really that simple. All that matters is progress; otherwise you're just standing still.

So even though I'm hurt and bewildered (this one unraveled quicker than a loose thread on a cashmere sweater) I'm functional and logical...and wiser. The first two aspects far eluded my first break up. If something can so quickly go from good to horrible to worse, than it wasn't what I thought it was in the first place. Anyone who is nice to you while you're together but horrible to you the second you're done was never a nice person to start with. Let's hope the next fiasco is less of a fiasco and more of a keeper.

Wallowing and sad I still am, but there's nothing time, a few good nights out, and copious amounts of Nutella and whatever excuse of a food I use as my Nutella vessels, cannot cure. Do I feel worthless? Not at all. Valueless? Maybe for a second but that quickly passes. Mostly I just feel human -- susceptible to falling in love when least expecting it and the vulnerability and hurt being in love inevitably brings. The great universal equalizer strikes again. Been there? Of course you have. Haven't we all.
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 - 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

OMFG -- A Little Baggage

My good friend Daniela and I often share our woes of the dating scene in our mid-twenties. No longer naively optimistic teens looking for puppy love nor horridly jaded (...yet) we both agree that it's fun for the most part, but a little tiring at others. "They're like job interviews with cocktails!" Daniela often remarks about first dates. And sadly, I'd have to agree. By the time you're twentysomething, it's inevitable to have accumulated a fair amount of dating "experience", shall we say. And by "experience" I mean a whole lot of emotional baggage. Unless you're a robot, totally prude or incredibly sheltered, chances are that you've either had your heart broken, or done the breaking. Many of us are in self-protect mode at this age and that's why first dates can be interrogation-like...it's all about sniffing out the other person's baggage.

Pessimistic sounding, sure, but as some one who definitely fits into the category of hopeless romantic, baggage doesn't have to be anymore more than a little bump in the road. It's been noted (by friends of mine -- over and over again) that a characteristic of mine is to not give up on people. Sure, it's sounds all lovely and endearing in words, but in actuality it has proven to be draining and not always for the best. Sticking around way after the expiry date of a relationship, when it's gone not just bad but awfully rotten, simply for the sake of trying to help some one who clearly does not want it, is not an ideal situation for anyone. So with that in mind I give my baggage advice with warning: only attempt to take on baggage you know you can handle. Hopelessly romantic I may be, but naive? Nuh-uh.

And, as with everything else in life, a bit of honesty goes a long way. No, no, no, this doesn't mean word vomiting after meeting some one of interest a couple times, or letting it all out when wasted, but simply answering things as they come up. Honestly. (For the record, I'm personally all for drunken emotional talks, but experience has proven the general consensus is a resounding nay. See? Hopeless.) It's the difference between fudging the answer of questions about your past and admitting that no, your dating history isn't perfect. Perfection is for the for the boring anyways...give me complicated, layered and mysterious any day of the week. If Adele can make a career of singing about it, surely it's not all that bad.

Acknowledging flaws of the dating world keeps it resoundingly on the fun as opposed to the tiring side. Interesting people, interesting places and interesting things (so interesting nouns, basically..) never cease to keep things, well, interesting! And who knows, the next fun fling you have might just turn into some one who makes your baggage feel not as heavy. Happy dating, darling bloggees!

x

And for days when you just need a little Adele release...after all, anyone with iTunes and a heart does it!