Fear and Loathing...In Toronto

Well, last time I posted I was quasi miserable about my dismal dating prospects/experiences. AND YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT'S HAPPENED....IT'S GOTTEN WORSE. As it turns out, dating shady fucks in your 30's is a serious epidemic. And no, I'm not addressing dating in your 20's (as I'm sure it's the same but with less cellulite), but I avoided dating like the plague in my 20's and as it turns out, it was for a very good reason.
Hmmm let's see....as of late, I've met the following...(I've changed the names of these motherfuckers because I'm a lady) and I've slept with most of them. 
There was Bojangles, he was a real dick that made the waitress repeat the specials about 9 times, then tried to barter a cheaper price for the BEER THAT WAS ON SPECIAL. There was Warren Buffet who conveniently forgot his wallet and his personality on his kitchen table. Then there was the Green Giant who loved fake laughing and staring at his watch like he had a bomb strapped to his body. Then..my favourite... Mr. WeShouldDefinitelyDoThisAgainSometime, who sits on the board of directors of the 'I'm A Giant Pussy' foundation. He asked to see me again but I'm assuming his phone exploded in a rare iPhone malfunction which effects every 100,000 men in 100,001 men...I'd say it's safe to assume that he lost all his contacts which is why I haven't heard from him. *Cue sad violin music.

I've actually decided to stop dating. (I'm being serious. I literally just finished googling "how to be okay with being alone." No joke). I've decided to stop this blissful experience solely because a straight jacket is far to confining for a gal who has self diagnosed herself with hyperhidrosis and a bad attitude. ( And yes, hyperhidrosis is a real condition for you fuckers that are all like,"brrr. I've got a chill!"). 

Well, you know what I've got? A sweaty upper lip and inexplicable breast sweat, so please, shut the fuck up.  It's basically a problem where you sweat profusely from almost every pore...even in the arctic. (Or as my luck would have it, my frigid panties).  Thanks to the Real Housewives of NYC, I  recently learned that Botox in the affected areas can fix this condition. But who has an extra 500 kicking around? 

Maybe Ramona does, but not this bitch. I've chosen to blow my last 500 dollars on furnishing my new apartment with Ikea products to make it look like a Swedish dollhouse. Mmmmm Ikea meatballs... Yup, that's right, a small slice of heaven. 

Speaking of my new apartment, I recently moved and I am currently living at the corner of Purgatory and Spinster Avenue. What a busy intersection!  I've got it all decked out in furniture that will help with my posture since most of it is made of wood. All I need is a slight aroma of cat piss and I'm set to die alone. AND...guess what? As it turns out, my neighbours across the hall are having enough sex for the entire apartment building, so I literally can just listen to that for an eternity and I never have to have another man touch me again! #YOLO. 

In all seriousness, I reallllly do love my new apartment. It's super spacious and has lots of windows for me to hone in on my inner voyeur. BUT the only complaint I have about having lots of windows, less masturbating, less eating chocolate in my underwear, more creepy neighbour watching, no dancing naked  is having too much natural lighting. If you're a woman in your 30's, I suspect I'm getting a few nods of agreement right now. Natural lighting is the WORST for discovering wrinkles, zits, unsightly moles, and worst of all CHIN HAIR.  
I'm getting so much facial hair in my 30's that I literally wasn't sure if I was looking at my reflection, or Zach Galifianakis made a guest appearance in my washroom this morning while I brushed my teeth.

#selfie

It was actually my pencil dick dermatologist that brought my freakish chin hair/sideburn growing capabilities to the forefront at my last appointment. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in denial, I knew it was there, but it's hard enough to keep up with shaving your legs, cooter, armpits, (and my arms since I got high percocet and shaved them a couple summers ago, I have to shave them all of the time now) and now...my face. C'MON. I swear I must have murdered puppies in a past life, because I've been getting a bad taste of some universal karmic backlash over the past 30 years or so. I'm hoping my recent surge of facial hair and shitty dates is the last of it. 

"Hmmmmmm (my doctor says as he puts hot rollers in my chin hair) we should really clean up these areas next time you're in." 

I love when people offer me unsolicited advice. He also told me that I should put a filler in my bottom lip to align it with my top lip because I'd look soooooo much better and far more symmetrical. Needless to say, upon hearing this advice, I came home and met up with my old friends Pinot and Dominos and stared in the mirror for 2 hours trying to pull my bottom lip up over my top one. 

So.... there you have it. That's what I've been up to. I'm not dead, despite recent speculation. In fact I'm so alive that I'm entering a bearded lady competition in September. 

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