OMFG -- Ohhh Charlie.

Oh Charlie. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. That drunken, high, prostitute-banging mess known as Charlie Sheen sat down for his first post-mess interview and it -- oh jeez, where do I even begin. I give credit where credit is due and the man is honest if nothing else. Aside from his stark honesty however is, in my opinion, a pathetic little man with some serious ego delusions.

If you haven't seen the interview yet, check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5aSa4tmVNM

Some poetically beautiful gems (note the extreme sarcasm) spoken from his mouth include the lines: "I'm not bi-polar...I'm bi-winning!", "I probably took more than anyone could survive...because I'm me. I'm different, I have a different constitution, a different heart, a different brain....dying is for fools.", and the real kicker: "I've just answered to a higher calling. I blinked and I cured my brain."
The general reaction I've heard from my friends and online is that Charlie Sheen has gone from epic mess to just epic. Apparently comparing yourself to a higher power who, and I quote, has "exposed people to magic that people otherwise wouldn't see in their boring, normal lives." makes you really fucking cool. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being cool...in fact anyone who knows me well can vouch for my attraction to all dudes with swagger and situations ripe with exclusivity. And I'm also all for partying...again anyone who knows me, or has partied with me on more than one occasion can safely say I subscribe to the notion of going hard..I mean if you're going to have fun, you might as well go 100%. So yes, I understand the fascination with a celebrity who has shamelessly promoted a lifestyle we all secretly aspire to at one point or another...but to call him simply amazing and a legend? Yeah...no.
Just listening to Sheen go on about his otherworldliness made me laugh. It's amusing to see that he believes his "tiger blood" will keep him alive even when snorting more snow than we see fall in a winter and to wax on about how he's God's gift to partying. Like, come on now dude, are you kidding me? The second he relapses (which he will, despite his "on/off" brain capabilities he so delicately explained) and ends up in a coffin is the second all his slack-jawed admirers will realize that all people, no matter how delusional, are human.
But I get it, I really do. It's admirable to see some one normalize such a taboo but insanely fun lifestyle, and not only normalize it but preach it like they mean it. And if you're anyone remotely attached to the scene, of any city really, I'm sure you can relate. (No judgement here guys...heavens knows I've been there, and back, and then some.) Sheen was born to a famous father and family and is used to his privileged lifestyle and consequence-less (relatively speaking anyways) life and it seems to have inflated his ego, just ever so slightly.
At the end of the day, he's just a three-times divorced washed-up actor with five children who did a bunch of drugs and banged a lot of hookers. Cool or not cool.....it's just really fucking gross.
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OMFG - Spring Fever!

The weather in Toronto has slowly been getting a little nicer and nicer....and with everyday that the thermometer creeps towards the positives, the entire city lets out a little sigh of relief that maybe Spring really is just around the corner! Unlike other cities where it's warm (or warmer) year round, Torontonians like myself are so used to the dull, dreary days of winter that we're all officially insane when Spring fever hits! It hits us. And it hits us hard. I think this may be the only city in the world where you can see people on the streets wearing flip flops and winter boots on the same day. We experienced a day where the warmth hit the double digits a little while ago and, despite being only ten degrees, it was probably the busiest clubbing night I've seen in a while and throngs of girls (your truly included) headed to the clubs in what I would normally wear in the summer. See? Officially insane when Spring fever hits.
The winters here being brutal as they are (this is The Great White North after all, cosmopolitan as we are) put even the cheeriest of Canadians into a bit of a bind and causes what I like to call "Toronto-hate Syndrome". Oh, we've all been affected by it at one time or another. You know the feeling...when you want to have a fabulous night out but the idea of putting on a slinky outfit and your most dangerous heels just seems -- well, dangerous, considering the icy streets and snowy mounds you'll have to navigate. The cramp on your night leads to a breathy sigh of "I hate Toronto!" and thus the syndrome begins. It's a snowball effect from then on in, where every weather-related disaster, no matter how small in scale, leads to a full-on case of hatred for our at-time geographically impaired city. The scene gets stale fast during the winter months partially because even the most persistent of clubbing troopers find it hard to make it out there when it's twenty five below and blustering winds ruin even the most coiffed hair-dos and also because everything just seems a little monotonous when given a bleak gray scene as a backdrop.
Well my darling Torontonians who are still in the city...Snap out of it! (For all of you who jetted out of here, I'm shooting you a slight evil eye. But only because I'm jealous. And because you suck.) I love our little city and the credit it deserves is usually taken away by 1) either New York envy (we really can't help that it's so close.) 2) the winter blues. Since NYC isn't going anywhere without the appearance of either King Kong or Godzilla, I think it's safe to say the winter blues are something we can easily all conquer. Luckily the worst of it is over and with March only a couple days away, Spring's green grasses and dewy air are truly just around the corner. Nothing spreads happiness faster than a little sunshine and I'm looking forward to the epidemic beginning as soon as the first rays hit the ground. As for the dry spell clubbing-wise; it's only one if we let it be one! I don't know about all of you, but I'm the type of person who will have a good night out as long as I'm surrounded by friends (and a couple bottles..come on now) so a night where we all mission it out, albeit in sexy little outfits under our puffy down-filled coats is definitely worth it. And, if you truly want to show everyone what we Canadians are made of, you'll find your way out in a sexy little outfit and that's about it. Blame it on Spring fever. But we're all about ready to be a little insane once it hits.
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An OMFG Valentine

I want to hate Valentine's Day. I really do. I want to cringe at every love song I hear, roll my eyes at couples who engage in inappropriate PDA and suppress an urge to gag whenever I pass a florist -- and considering the year I've had, I have every reason to despise the holiday....but I just can't seem to shake my love for all things romantic. Oh yes, the hopeless romantic is an old adage becoming seemingly less and less relevant in today's modern world, but it still holds true for me and is also (inconveniently to say the least) a pretty accurate description of my character as well. Let me add that my hopeless romanticness kicks in with the presence of love...otherwise I'm prone to all sorts of less-than-romantic behaviour like I'm sure all of us single and in our twenties are...but that's a whole other blogpost in itself!
Another reason I should hate Cupid's day is because way back when, I worked for Hallmark when I was in high school, and let me tell you, if working at a card store doesn't put you off holidays, nothing will. Stuffed bears that light up and sing you My Girl, anthropomorphized roses that light up and sing you I'll Be...pretty much any and all remotely love-related items were made to light up and sing, Hallmark style, and were played over and over again by those browsing...and I still don't hate the day! I blame my unending belief in love on my lovely parents. They moved to Toronto together from Hong Kong in 1975 with not much more than each other, were married the same year quietly in the presence of a couple friends, and are still happily together 35 years later, all while building an amazing life of opportunities for themselves as well as myself, my sister and my brother. When you've been in the presence of something so strong your entire life, I guess it only makes sense as to why the standard I have for what love can do is raised so high.
I have never seen my parents fight to a level more than light bickering over logistics, or where to go for dinner. (My mom declares Chinese food for the win, always.) Otherwise, they are, and remain, a united front that runs like a well-oiled machine; efficiently, effectively and ridiculously in sync. In the midst of my own relationship turmoil, I once asked my mom if she ever went through rough phases with my dear old dad. "Never. Every day is happy. Always happy." To say I let out a sigh of exasperation would be putting it mildly. Yes, I admire my parents and what they have to no end, but am also aware that they have set the bar so exceptionally high that I know I'm pretty much screwed, love-wise, in my unrealistic expectations. Actually, if my mom wasn't in the car with me when I asked, I probably would have breathed out an "ohhhh fuck" or two. Or three.
Of course my parents grew up in a simpler, more traditional time compared to the jaded post-modern world we kids live in now, and perhaps that in itself is why their union appears to be a rarity in our twenties. A healthy dose of fresh naivety (of which, if my past experiences have taught me anything, I have an abundance of) never hurts. So tomorrow, all you darling bloggees, I hope you celebrate Valentine's Day with all the lovey-doveyness you can stand. Be romantic. Be illogical. Be hopeless if only for a day. Just don't buy your significant other anything that lights up and sings, or it'll probably be your last February 14th spent together.
And finally, a lovely little quote I read the other day: "It is well for the heart to be naive and the mind not to be,"
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OMFG -- It's Complicated.

As Valentine's Day approaches (or as my good friend Sean likes to call it "Singles Appreciation Day" aka S.A.D.), my other darling friend Jen noticed that Hallmark now has a section of cards dedicated to, as they put it, "Troubled Relationships". Pessimistic sounding? Maybe. But also pure genius in my opinion. Let's be honest, hardly any of us have relationships that are smooth as glass and glide along amazingly all the time. For those of you that do...please stop reading -- this blog is decidedly for the emotionally troubled and wearily jaded only! I doubt unceasingly cheerful people can appreciate my life debacles-turned-into-OMFG-moments half as much as my lovely troubled-ish-twenty-something target audience. And I'm sure it's all you slightly blasé yet still intensely emotive persons who would also agree with me in saying that Facebook needs to add another relationship status options to the likes of "Boy, is it ever fucking complicated". 
When we were younger, interactions with the opposite sex were much simpler in the sense that you liked someone, and you were with them without too much else to consider. Now that we're in our twenties, i.e. the decade where we're expected to effortlessly establish the rest of our lives, there's a whole slew of considerations added to the equation, including career, travel, opportunities, partying and all the details these options entail. Yet, somehow within these often hectic and fleeting years, some of us manage to slow down enough to fall in love. And that's where the real complications start to set in..
Before I had even been in love, I would always chat with my girlfriends or hear of stories where situations sounded, to my naive ears at least, ridiculous. Situations where couples who were in love let other factors stand in the way of being together and often even dated other people. I always vowed in my head never to become one of those girls who had a super-complicated relationship with some boy in another city, or some boy she just couldn't be with at that moment in time. Fast forward a couple years and I'm in my own insanely complicated situation with nothing but sympathy with all those girls of stories past. It is only with experience -- painstaking heart-withering experience, that I've learned how logic takes a backseat to love in many cases and what we should do, and what would make the most sense to do is what we do last. In my head, I know personally that being in love means being with a person and letting all other factors play second to that, but being with some one who is simply not consumed by love in the same way allows for the situation to become, well, complicated. 
There's a saying I read somewhere recently which was something to the tune of "What we remember will be how well we loved, how well we lost and how well we learned to let go." It's learning to let go which seems to be a hard feat to conquer at this age. Perhaps it's because now is when most of us experience our first loves, magically pristine in their vulnerability, or perhaps it's because we're not mature enough to see the benefits of the bigger picture. However you put it, learning to simply let go and move on is the epitome of a situation easier said than done. 
I guess I was hoping all my moaning and whining about being in love at such an age would come to some sort of tidy conclusion on the topic, or at least be a cathartic release in a way, but as it turns out there are no clean-cut answers when it comes to love, unless your emotional capabilities resemble that of a robot. (And trust me when I say I've met some boys who have come damn near close.) Complicated relationships, long-distance relationships, and being in love with the unlovable are all far from ideal situations to be in. But, let's face it, we wouldn't be in them if we didn't think, somewhere deep down buried beneath our jaded souls that at the end of the day, love is kinda, sorta, maybe, just a teensy bit worth being in a "Troubled Relationship' for. 
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OMFG.....the Drama!!!

"She's pure drama." Those were the dismissive last words a friend of mine spoke of another friend, whom she is currently on the outs with. The word drama has come to have a decidedly negative connotation among social groups meaning some one who brings gossip, backstabbing, and all other things we'd all like to think we left behind in middle school. What exactly passes for drama when we're in our mid-twenties? Gossip, backstabbing, of course, are still relevant, but now the word also seems to encompass any situation that does not get resolved quickly and tidily in a relatively short amount of time. Being a woman in her mid-twenties with emotions and intelligence, I'm sure I can vouch for other women of similar emotional and intellectual levels in saying that not all situations have a tidy means of ending.
Personally, I've never been one to be accused much of being a "drama" starter. I'm generally rational and when going through something in my personal life, I try it keep it just that, personal. However, I'm not immune to illogical bouts of feelings that leak past my personal walls, or drunken spouts of spazzing at those I soberly feel deserve a lashing when I'm in an unpleasant mood and about four martinis in. If you're a woman and reading this, chances are you can sympathize with my ordeals. But, if you're a man, and anything like the men (or boys, as I think many of them are. No offense to the true gentlemen readers out there.) I've had to deal with thus far in my twenties, your train of thought might be something along the lines of "Damn, these chicks are crazy!!" Ah, men. Perhaps the most dismissive of them all when it comes to labeling girls as "drama". There's no need for me to get into the tired and true argument that yes, woman are indeed more emotionally driven versus the so-called logical thinking of men -- it's common knowledge by now.
Granted, there are dozens of dizzy dolls out there for whom throwing a tantrum or acting haughtily and princess-like can be triggered by the pettiest of actions; you know, those girls who gather their Plastics together and conspire against that girl they barely know because she may or may not have been talking to one of their ex-boyfriends from a million years ago. Immature idiocy aside, twenty-something woman of reasonable persona definitely do not lack emotionally trying and at times downright tough episodes in life. Love, deception, death, friendships, change and careers are all topics we go through perpetually but seem especially exposed when experiencing them for the first time during this decade. Such legitimate experiences warrant a little drama, in my opinion at least.
The next time you find yourself dealing with some one who appears to be "pure drama", ask yourself a couple questions; Is the drama justified? (Quick note: all situations involving clothes, guys who are dicks, hair extensions and dirty looks need not apply.) If it is, how can you be there for them? Because really, that's all drama is -- a little cry for some support and just as easily as said support is given, the drama disappears.
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OMFG -- Winter Blues

I've become one of those people you cringe at when seated next to on public transportation. One of those sniffling, germ-infested, red-nosed, diseased carriers that makes you flinch every time they move a muscle. This slightly disgusting state of being can be attributed to my home and native land, Canada. Or, more specifically, Canada in the winter! For all you foreign readers out there, let me paint you a picture: Toronto transforms from a palette-rich, mildly weathered, lively and energetic city in the autumn to a white-washed, stark, bare landscape ridden with grimy gray buildings and crowds of heavily weighed-down citizens whom trudge through the streets like depressed zombies. Call it a post-apocalyptic urban scene -- I have to call it home for the next month or so.

With the onslaught of white stuff that continually covers the outside world come other unpleasant side effects: howling winds, temperatures of below minus 20 degrees Celsius, and skies that turn dark not too long after waking up. All of this combined makes for one depressing season. Torontonians are prone to the winter blues and, aside from work are also prone to hibernation. I've been in hibernation mode for the past little while myself, partially to avoid being ostracized on the subway and partially because going out in this weather becomes more of a mission than mayhem. When socializing entails a balancing act over ice on heels, freezing barely-covered panty-hosed legs and pricey cab rides to avoid frost-bite -- well it's no wonder even social butterflies like myself are choosing beds over bottles.

So just how are we chilly Canadians supposed to snap out of the winter blues? By moving our social lives home! Cozy gatherings at my friend's condos have been my staple lately and a nice change of pace from the usual thumping beats and scantily-clad scene I'm used to. Of course nights out are a must (after all, nothing warms up the body quite like a steady stream of vodka) but definitely less frequent during the season. While smallish shindigs don't scream "cool" like drunken fiascoes at a club, they're lovely in that you can have actual conversations without having to scream over music and delightfully low-key. My best friend recently hosted a board game night (with drinks, of course) with our close friends and it was the perfect way to spend a Saturday! We started off with appetizers and cocktails and relished in the entertainment of watching each other progressively get sloppier at the games as the night moved on. (Anyone who can coherently describe nouns in Taboo after four Bahama Mama's is my hero.) Actually, any PG activity from our pre-legal years is a good basis for a night in...throw in drinks and good friends and you've got yourself the perfect one-night getaway.

Our last board game night was a hit and I'm sure it'll happen again soon...in the mean time I'm still in hibernation mode. I'll probably venture out this weekend, so if any of you dear bloggees see some one dancing at a club in a Snuggie -- it's probably me.
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OMFG -- Promo-whoring 101

Between the posting, tweeting, blogging and bbming, I'm surprised any of us have time for breathing! Social media has allowed anyone with half an ego and a little bit of talent to become their own self-promotional media sensation. I'm a self-admitted Facebook fanatic and Crackberry addict (my Blackberry battery lasts a half-day on average. I travel with the charger in my purse....seriously.), and have learned with time how easily connections made online can equal real life opportunities. So, how does one balance personal with promotional? There's a fine line between keeping the interest of your followers (Twitter-speak, not cult-speak for those of you out of the loop) and having the online personality of cardboard.

To preface, I am by no means a media mogul when it comes to social networking. I try and keep Facebook to modeling and party pictures, because let's face it, no one's interested in seeing uploads of me, say waking up in the morning or anything else routine. However, being the emotionally exploding person that I am (it's touching on the best of days and downright neurotic with a dab of maudlin on the worst) I tend to catch myself emotionally binging on the site via cryptic statuses and whatnot every now and then. Usually such trivial posts get deleted once I come to my senses, but if some one were to creep my account constantly, I'm sure they could put together a nice little timeline of my emotional episodes. (That, by the way,  is by no means encouragement. Girls are moody bitches. Get used to it.) That being said, I am observant of those who have perfectly poised yet endlessly entertaining and most importantly genuinely expressed profiles which in today's world can be powerful tools of opportunity.

First things first: nobody cares about your personal life. Until you reach levels of popularity that those fame-whoring Kardashian sisters will envy, it's safe to say that the general online public, excluding friends (if that...let's be honest.) does not give a darn about who you're dating or why you're cutting up pictures and sniffling to Bruno Mars. If you're anything like me, or worse, and just cannot help emotional vomiting all over that little blue and white screen, it's best to keep Facebook for personal friends and another online account for professional matters.
Whether you're a DJ, model, PR rep or other persona where personal promotion is an asset, thinking successful is undoubtedly part of the journey to being successful. In other words, every action you participate in that deals with your job is something worth posting. Whether it be a behind-the-scenes shot of you getting your make-up done, or a rough demo recording of an upcoming track, if it's of interest to your product, it's of interest to your online image. The busier you are the better -- the most interesting news-feeds to me are the ones where there is a constant momentum towards new ideas. Or, to put it bluntly, the news-feeds of those who get shit done and get it done fast.
Last of all, share what makes you happy. If you're in the right field, this should overlap with your passion anyways and thus make it easy to promote your professional self. But random things, like hilarious moments you've somehow captured with the click of your Torch or a snap of anything else that triggers a smile or thought are ways to inflict personality in your posts. Obvious as this sounds, there are countless of self-promoting individuals out there who have remarkably boring updates despite being immensely talented at what they do. No one wants to follow Promoter Cardboard of the online world because chances are his parties are just as droll.

My own Twitter account has been dormant for almost a year now --- I'm about the take my own advice and prep for a relaunch! You'll be seeing me in your virtual worlds darling bloggees...and if you're promo-savvy I'll see you in mine!
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