Oh hi I'm british.

I say like too much & don't know how to keep my hands still. 

If you are what you eat then I must be an oatmeal raisin cookie.

I do not think of food as fuel for my body. I think of food as my greatest love in life, my passion. I go to bed dreaming of elaborate brunches and calorie-laden sweets. Don’t ask me about my macros and don’t you dare drive past a KFC without getting a bucket of chicken.

Unfortunately for me It’s become incredibly taboo these days to not work out. So I decided in order to fit in and ensure that my jeans still fit me I would start doing some dance classes.

My first class is a hip-hop cardio class, lets just be clear there is no disclaimer before this class. Nobody informed me that there were any prerequisites eg; having the ability to jump up and down multiple times without passing out. So here I am in my trackies thinking I am about to get all crunk up in this bitch and hoping by the end of it that'll I'll be able to "twerk" with the best of them. The room is over heating immediately and within 5 minutes everyone is red faced and panting. Layers are coming off faster than a Nelly video clip and I keep telling myself I’ll have an ass like Candice Swanepol’s after this. 

It’s been three days and I still can’t walk or bend properly. Don’t get me wrong I am not extremely unfit or anything, my body just does not enjoy lunges, squats and any form of exercise that does not involve simply lying on a mat and focusing on inhaling and exhaling.

I however do enjoy aerobics; I find it all quite amusing especially when you have a gay instructor (those are the best kind). They play inspiring songs like Shine Bright like a Diamond – Rihanna and yell at you for not shaking your hips hard enough. I am constantly in awe at how they can walk like Beyonce and probably have more femininity in one kick than I do in my whole vagina.

If you like trashy reality TV and Thai food apply within.

Since Craigslist has provided me with hours of entertainment and insight into the seedy underworld of desperate men with too much money, I have decided to do my own little ad for a boyfriend.

Disclaimer – I am not actually posting this on Craigslist nor do I want a boyfriend.

I have absolutely no sympathy for a man who cannot remember my birthday and is too busy to send me flowers on Valentine’s Day. If you cannot organise your own finances, get an accountant don’t ask me for money. You must have a valid drivers license, a car (obviously) and an incessant urge to drive long distances without an apparent destination. I am willing to relinquish control of the playlist but no trance can ever be played. Frank Ocean is generally preferred and if I like a song be prepared to listen to it a trillion times without interrupting or I’ll be forced to start the song again.

I’m half Asian so Karaoke and copious amounts of vodka is always a good night out, buy me tequila and be prepared to be dropped. Do not force me to do more shots or you will be forced to hold my hair as I vomit. Be prepared to watch Sex and the City over and over again and deal with my apparent lack of cooking skills.

I will not tolerate a smoker or a junkie. If you haven’t been to the dentist in over 5 years stop reading this immediately. I will see you when I see you so do not expect lovey dovey good night texts, actually don’t even expect me to text you at all. If you have more hair on your chest than your head you must be prepared to laser or wax.

I like to sing in the shower and spend hours obsessing over my pores. Do not judge my post it notes they keep me sane. I am jealous and overly possessive that’s how you know I care. I do not believe in wearing track pants outside the house and am constantly over dressed for everything. You can wear what you want just no bum bags.

Oh and I am ridiculously shallow so if you don’t have green or blue eyes and big arms don’t even bother applying. 

& when you are here the world stops and all that is in it is you, that is all I want right now, you.

"Somewhere along the line of development we discover what we really are, and then we make our real decision for which we are responsible. Make that decision primarily for yourself because you can never really live anyone else's life."

-- Eleanor Roosevelt   

I have 14 hours before I have to decline the only job offer I’ve been given. Nothing about this is easy; it is difficult, perplexing and nerve racking.

If you have ever been at a cross roads in life you know how hard it is to make a decision. Your indecisiveness is at an all time high, so you do everything you possibly can to avoid deciding. You pull out the trusty pros and cons list, you pass the buck and phone a friend, you write a status or you even stop thinking about it all together.

I have done the pros and cons list, I have phoned my mum and I’m running out of time. Luckily for me I have made my decision I just can’t tell you just yet if it is the right decision. Not knowing, as I sit legs dangling is awfully daunting. All I know is that I need to take care of myself financially but also emotionally and if I am not happy no amount of money and alcohol can change that.

 I am not going to take this job and it is incredibly scary but also liberating. I might be selfish but there is nothing more important to me right now than my own happiness. I know how much I am worth and I am not willing to settle.

A fair few people are of the opinion that I should just take the job and leave as soon as I get a better offer. That is not me, I do not believe in wasting someone’s time. 

So I have to keep reminding myself that I didn’t come here to work in some shit job for crap money.

Yes it is true what they say, “job interviews are like first dates minus the cocktails”.

Well it’s mostly true. Your stomach is doing backflips all morning, you apply your eyeliner with such precision even Michelangelo would have been proud. Your collar won’t sit straight and you’ve managed to button your shirt wrong at least 3 times. Your “about me”* is rolling off your tongue and you are nervous as hell. 

It’s been a long time since I’ve had to put myself back out there and look for a “real job”. Surviving from random sporadic acting gigs is just not going to cut it anymore.  So here I am again back at square one, searching through job sites like an addict begging for their next fix (constantly and desperately). Sending out countless emails, anxiously awaiting phone calls and almost but not quite desperate enough to take job offers that are 10k less than what I need to live on.

My eyes are sore from the never-ending application forms and I’m starting to feel completely rejected and deflated. The same way I feel when a guy doesn’t call. I turn my phone on loud + vibrate; I even give them their own special ring and text tone (so I don’t get excited when any other ordinary person calls). Yet still nothing. What did I do wrong? What did I say? Every single possible “mistake” is running through my mind until I reach the ultimate conclusion I must be too ugly/fat/boring or something pertaining to the aforementioned.

In reality or the job world, it’s not you it’s your resume.

I had the distinct pleasure to interview for an amazing designer last week and although I know I have absolutely no hope in the world of getting the job, I’m still happy to know I am now on their radar. One day I will have enough experience and I will be back in that show room amongst the gorgeous collections breathing in the sweet scent of leather and laughing at my poor young self.

It’s a tough business life; you’ve got to be resilient.

About Me – Generally asked at the beginning of most interviews, after you’ve just got yourself comfortable and are starting to feel at ease you’ve got to get right back on your toes. Basically you are expected to blow a little smoke up your own ass but without being too cocky.

Toronto you have my heart...

The way the snow falls on a freezing cold day. The drawings on the walls that are ambiguous and yet completely clear. The air that captures your words and freezes them before you've even had time to laugh. The streets I am constantly lost in... 

The subtle differences and inconsistencies that make every day that little more exciting.

 The new discoveries, the words I don’t recognise the slang that has me in giggles and the accents that make the sound of every word taste like tequila; all bitter with no promise of a happy ending

My wallet is heavy with loonies and toonies. I use public transport constantly and I find myself yet again as I always do when I am somewhere new in great debt to Google maps. I am constantly freezing, slipping, searching and always sure that I am supposed to be here.

My head is forever cold; my eyes dry from incessant contact over use and freezing cold temperatures. I’m popping zinc and fish oil tablets in fear of what this weather can do to my skin. I feel the constant itch of eczema and drown my sorrows in a tub of moisturiser. The only use of alcohol is to keep warm as you stumble and fall into Snow Mountains giggling hysterically at your apparent lack of being able to walk in a straight line. When the weather is above 0 there is a certain excitement in the air at being able to take off one more layer. There are people everywhere day and night and somehow you know you belong here.

Everyday I wake up with the promise of a new life.

A new adventure I can sink my teeth into.

I search craigslist’s obsessively for jobs, homes anything to keep me going, fund my addictions and help me meet new people. I am constantly side tracked with the promise of making thousands through adult films and find myself sniggering at the sordid underworld. The obvious questions leading to a promise of a safe environment “Are you open minded?” “No experience necessary!”. Some people have no choice and others make it their choice.

It’s Valentine’s Day and I wake up with the potential of an extreme workout for my credit card. No roses here please! I’ve learnt my lesson with boys, don’t ask for anything you aren’t willing to pay for and I don’t mean with cash.