The big 20.

Lauren Pettigrew's birthdayYikes.

Drunk face ensues?

It would seem I’m another year older, well, I was another year older two days ago – I’ve just now recovered from the unexpected festivities now. So, if you were wondering where I had wandered off to, your first (or second, if you’re a nice person, who, admittedly, doesn’t know me very well) instinct was right: I’d ended up overdressed at a bar. Thanks to my charms (or the fact that I know most everyone that works there) I escaped with not a single blemish on my credit card, at least not one from the bar.

I don’t want to make this into a journal entry, so I’ll leave you at that. Actually, one other thing – Jacob and I have reunited. That was my favourite birthday present.

Lauren.

Just an update – banana fight!

 

banana

I am a banana (fighter)!

Tonight I had my first ever banana fight.

What is a banana fight, you ask? Well, it’s pretty self explanitory on my end… Jesse and I were in the kitchen earlier tonight, err, when it was still night (I think), and I made the subtle “banana blow job signal” and a fight ensued when she told me, probably unintentionally to banana jizz in her eye. A full on banana fight ensued in my kitchen, and, after said fight, I now cannot move half my face in a societally acceptable way because I have banana residue all over it.

That has been my night.

How’s your night been?

In sickness and in health

No, this isn’t a marriage post, it’s an illness post. When my father came down to see me, a point was brought up: I have what you might call a silver-spoon immune system. Any idea what that means? Let me explain.

While I may not have grown up putting on the Ritz, see below photo, I grew up staying at the Ritz. And unfortunately, my immune system has been lounging in one of those terribly comfortable bathrobes, ordering room service all this time.

Yeah, I was a pedophile magnet. What can I say?

Yeah, I was a pedophile magnet. What can I say?

Also, in looking at this picture, it would seem I also invented the Snuggie. Moving on from my infomercial potential (the other picture I was going to put up involved me with what looks like an early version of the Magic Bullet, what the hell!), I was informed this weekend that I have this elusive “silver spoon immune system,” meaning, or so I was told, that I can’t survive anything because when I was a child, I was hidden from all possibly infectious, um, things. Which was traumatic at the time because I didn’t get any of the prizes I wanted for playing “count the roadkill” on road trips; I really wanted that DIY Davy Crockett hat.

Total panty dropper.

Total panty dropper.

Road kill chic aside, this silver spoon immune system really got me going. I mean, I know I wasn’t exactly running through the woods, drinking from swamps and rolling around in ivy of the poisonous variety, but does that make me a horrible person? No, it makes me a sick person. It makes my mother a horrible person, obviously.

Let your kids play with worms in the garden. Little Jimmy’s eating grass? Great! That’s what I say.

But to say I have no immune system because I have an overly cautious mother seems a little extreme. It’s not like I’m the world’s most careful person, but then again, I’m not exactly rolling around in poison ivy trying to relive my stolen childhood either; I’m here, searching music videos with dancing bears and 80s hits. By the way, 80s hits are the new Cold FX, just sayin’.

That’s my rant. And I’m posting about sickness because I’m, well, sick. I have a lovely thing called bronchitis, also known as doom (which apparently is now called 2012; thanks, ancient Mayans). So from one sick (in a cough, cough way) person to another (in a perverted, I read gay blogs way. Shame on you!), go roll yourself in some poison ivy, eat unfamiliar  berries, and take candy from strangers… it’s good for you.

Jesse’s gone

The past couple days have been crazy to say the least; I saw Stevie Wonder, celebrated Canada Day at a male strip club, and since Jesse has left for Calgary, it seems like a shit show has ensued. By seems like, actually, there is no seems like.

Stevie Wonder was amazing. I mean, how could he not be? Jesse and I made dinner, then headed out for 7:30, when we arrived, well, there was a sea of people, we navigated our way through the crowd in the pouring rain, made more than a couple friends along the way and there was a little bit of piggybacking involved; Jesse’s not exactly WNBA height, you see. But Stevie, oh Stevie, I danced my little heart out, and coincidentally, danced my ankles into submission. It’s all worth it though. So now that the Jazz Festival is in full swing, I am more than stoked to see some stellar performances.  Jesse left me early that night because she had to catch a plane early in the morning for Calgary, so I met up with Renee, Christine, and their new Jazz Festival friends at The Saint Elizabeth. More on them later, as we’re going to keep it chronological today.

The next day was Canada Day, and, apparently, tough economic times translate directly to fireworks shows. Lucas and I were in the village, planning to sit on a rooftop patio and watch the show only to hear literally five fireworks go off. Apparently, that was the end of the festivities. Party on, Canada! So logically, we got some pad thai, and I was suckered into going to Bar Stock, an all male strip club, for ladies night. Now, I used to date men selectively. By “used to” I mean I stayed in relationships for two weeks in high school, by “date” I mean I used to make them buy me things and humour me when I was bored, and by “selectively” I mean I would date them when I was a total closet case and people asked me why I wasn’t with anyone… those were interesting years. But I digress, the whole reason I told you about my past dating men experience is that I have, contrary to popular belief, seen a penis before (much to my horror, I assure you). Granted I used to run away screaming… but that’s another story. I have not seen that many penises before in my entire life, thankfully. Also thankfully, there was a safe distance between me and the numerous manhoods in question. So Lucas and I were, erm, watching, the show when Renee calls, confirms the fireworks show was bogus, and comes out to meet us. Renee totally falls for a stripper and was totally taken aback by the whole experience. She warmed up to it though, so much so that on the walk back home, she could not stop talking about how much she loves  naked men. Actually, that’s a good segue to last night’s party. Next paragraph!

As Jesse is gone, Renee decided to have a last minute get together at her apartment last night. I left sushi with Lucas and Norman for her house, to find Renee and Christine eating would-be jello shots out of a mixing bowl and watching chick flicks. Party on, Renee and Christine! When I arrived, everyone started calling everyone, and the apartment soon filled up. The fridge also filled up with Heineken. Neighbours, friends, friends of friends, everyone was there. As the party slowly died out, the remaining people decided to get naked. As I was still there, and the only person who wasn’t wearing a bra who had breasts, I feel as if I were duped. The nakedness was a little bit lame in my eyes, but what can you do? Oh, if Jesse were there she would have died. I do remember taking pictures on my camera phone, though.

img230img229While uploading all the photos and videos from my camera phone, I also found all these totally unrelated pictures.

Ironic bookstore signage

Ironic bookstore signage

Jesus ads

Jesus ads

The town of mono

The town of mono

Carmen SanDiego

Well, ladies and the odd inquisitive gent, my sneaky disappearing act (thus the Carmen SanDiego, though I don’t think she ever disappeared, she was just really, really, hard to find) has been brought on by a perilous endeavour which I like to call house hunting. You probably already know this, but Jesse and I are moving in together, and I am the designated house hunter… unfortunately, Jesse and I don’t really work the same way. Other than the obvious explanation of I am not Jesse and Jesse is not me, I like to fly by the seat of my pants on these kinds of things; I don’t settle very easily, but living in Montreal, seemingly, means I must change my ways, or miraculously come into a lot of money, not tell Jesse how much the place actually costs, and leave her blissfully unaware. Unfortunately, again, the former seems far more probable.

Is a nice apartment really too much to ask? No. But apparently, as soon as you live in Montreal, all standards must be lowered. Anyways, here’s to hoping Jesse doesn’t get fed up with me before I find a place and then I have to look for a one bedroom… Now that, would be terrible.

Regular posts coming back tomorrow. But in order to keep this somewhat gay, Lindsay and Sam back together? Hmmm.

Thanks, Girlfriend is a Homo :).

Thanks, Girlfriend is a Homo :).

Pride’s coming!

If you subscribe to anyone worth watching on YouTube (with the exception of me, of course), you’ll know it’s pride month. And here in Montreal, Divers-cite seems to be right around the corner. By “seems to be” I mean, it’s really coming fast and I’m not ready. What does one wear? Who should you bring? When should you go?

I know I’m not the most qualified for these questions, mostly because I’ve never been to Divers-cite. I have, however, been to Toronto Pride, and that counts for something right? Let’s get started.

Who should I bring?

Everyone and anyone! In my experience, Pride events are best enjoyed with large groups for a couple reasons. First, you look like you have a cool posse, and that’s really all you need to know, though I’ll continue. Second, you can split up at any time and still (most likely) not have to go places alone (who wants to come to the BDSM tent?). Third, the more people you go with, the more people experience the event; Pride is all about positive exposure and celebration… if birthday parties aren’t fun alone, no other celebration will be. 

Disclaimer: Maybe “everyone and anyone!” was a little too keen, do not bring a) a collection of all your ex girlfriends, b) the members of a right of right of centre church group your parents forced you to go to, and c) straight edgers (unless of course you bring a couple of them, so they can go on their merry way when the party starts). Just sayin’

What should I wear?

Now this one is very person to person basis. Are you currently on a last minute workout plan trying to tie together all those loose fitness ends before pride? Because I’m not… heh. Dressing for pride involves a whole lot of honesty; how good do I look? Will going topless to the Dyke March raise or lower my chances of being hit on? Can I wear two different colours of lame? All of these are good questions. Wear something comfortable, be a lesbian, wear those shoes that never hurt your feet! Unless we’re talking Tevas, in that case, I have nothing to say to you. I’d also like to take this time to forewarn you of the dreaded lube supersoaker. Avoid these like the plague, or wear something you can wash (most people are kind and go for water soluble lube, yeehaw).

How many rainbows are acceptable?

As many as you want. I personally am a fan of moderate amounts of rainbow clothing. If you have more than 10% of your body in rainbow something or other, you may as well dress up as a rainbow. Now that, I do advise, if I weren’t going in skinny jeans, sneakers, and scratch and sniff stickers over my nipples this year, I would definitely come dressed as a rainbow. But I digress, you can never really have too much rainbow action going on at pride, I don’t do it myself, but that shouldn’t stop you. Rainbows are touchy subjects anyways… do what seems right.

What should I bring?

This one is tricky. As previously discussed, as many happy-go-lucky friends as possible. Beyond that, it’s up to what you want to do. Think you’ll be buying things? Bring a tote or a nice man bag, if your normal bags aren’t large enough for what you plan on buying (hey girl, no judgement here ;) ), bring a reusable one, I’m sure you have infinite amounts of those as I do. Bring sunscreen if you need to reapply it, that’s always a good rule of thumb. If we’re going to play on these tough economic times, bring a bottle of water, because everyone knows water at most any venue is ridiculously expensive, and bring snacks too! Also, check your local weather forecast before you head out and be prepared… Having something literally rain on your parade, not so fun.

I guess that’s pride prep 101… If you have anymore questions, drop me an email.