My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

And THEN I Became A Lesbian. Almost.

Almost, people! Almost!So I’m sitting at the take-out bar in Tacofino chowing down on a big-ass chorizo burrito and inadvertently eavesdropping on the convo next to me. I’m alone, so what else am I gonna do? Listen to the incessant thoughts roaming around in my mind? That’s been boring so far:Maybe I should go back and take the make-up class [at the swordplay school] …But the instructor had that big, ripe pimple in the crack of his nose. I’d be distracted by the it whole class.Like what if it exploded while I was in mid-thrust? I might accidentally impale myself.Besides, I’m halfway through this monster-sized meat snack. It’s not good to exercise on a full stomach, they say. Plus, if...

And That’s How I Became A Phone Sex Operator. Almost.

My Terms and Conditions text reply …•Payment in advance•Paypal: mailto:findme@wingmam.com•US$500/hr; min 1hr fee charged•US$125/15 min after 1st hr •(65/70/75min=$625; 80/85/90min=$750)•By appt—24hrs; limited availability on weekends•If you call w/o an appt & I answer, time & 1/2•Text only to make appt•No personal questions about me •No naughty comments directed to me•No recordings•No photos•I don’t participate, but I will facilitate•(I can encourage or act innocent.) •No stories about animals, children, elderly, invalids, aliens!•No violence or gore•I can end a call at any time if I feel uncomfortable (one warning given)•I can end or modify this agreement at any time for any reason (credits refunded)•I can write about it if I choose •Any questions?So how did this intercourse, er, I mean text communication...

And Then I Went To L.A. For An Audition…

Before we get to the juicy bits—not my juicy bits, the juicy bits of this story—let us meander back to where this trip originated from … when I was 10 years old.If you read my memoir, you might recall the shyness-overtakes-me-again-dammit episode where I’m the star runner of track and field, and on the big day (meet day), I totally flee the scene because I’m so nervous I almost barf on the coach. No, you don’t remember that? Well, obvi, I sure as shit did.Which brings me right up to speed to the fast-paced La La Land!A few years ago, I was “finding myself”—aka continuing my identity crisis—and following my dream of being a high paid, well-acclaimed screen writer *cough*...

An Apology From The Person Formerly Known As Anna J

I sent this to the editor of a local Comox Valley newspaper and they didn't publish it. Maybe they thought me another recovering AA member looking for repentance. But, I'm not in Alcoholics Anonymous, because I'm not an addict (unless one counts shoes). I'm just a gal on a love mission.So, crazy or not here it is. You may not be a person who needs an apology from me, but just in case...* There’s nothing like the death of someone we hold dear to make us stop and ponder life. I recently lost My Little Mom. My brother, sister and I had the honour and privilege of caring for her at home and were by her side when she left...

My Little Mom

Warning: F-bombs and bitchiness.You’ve been warned.I wrote this a couple months ago, before... :(Was it Mercury Retrograde or the MSG or was it MLM (My Little Mom) fading fast that made me so fucking cranky? See, a swear in the first fucking sentence. (Though, I do feel a little better getting that out.)So, what’s going on in my world … Let’s see. Well, I spend half my time at My Sister’s home (on Vancouver Island) giving her a bit of a break and providing some twisted sister comfort—more on that in a minute—and the other half of my time in Vancouver partying like a washed up rock star, minus the drugs.Benefits of being with my family:No pants. (PJs: yes)No sirens.No...

Because Everyone Loves a Trip to the ER in the Middle of the Night

ER Stands for: Exciting Ride, Right? Riiight?Sister’s home, 3:00am My sister wakes me from a delta sleep by touching my toe. Like that projectile vomiting girl in The Exorcist movie, I sit straight up with a start and gasp. My sister’s expression tells me we’re going to the hospital again, but that the situation isn’t dire.Mom lives with my sister and has late stage lung cancer, which is totally unfair, because she quit smoking over 30 years ago. Cancer is unfair, like that.We've already lost one family member to cancer earlier this year. Like I said, unfair.We got the diagnosis for My Little Mom five months ago when she’d noticed a constant tickle in her throat. Since then, her lung...

Kiss and Tell. Fuckit, Why Not?

People have different ways of dealing with the impending death of a loved one. Some of those ways might not be considered healthy, but I say if we can garner a laugh out of it—and walk away without STDs or too many bruises (inner or outer)—then, BAM, why the F not? Here’s how it went down … (Mind out of gutter, we’re not at that part. Yet!) A few Fridays ago, I’m in my cozy abode deciding if I want to mope or make myself Little Miss Social. So, upon receiving an event invite, I—Vacillate between jamming out or going out; decide to go out; tell Marilyn for accountability.Call mom; cry.Put on upbeat house music to get in the anti-introvert...

Friendship and Houseguests

As previously mentioned, the first month I owned my cozy abode, I wasn't in Vancouver. A desperate and destitute friend—needing a temp place pronto—moved in with her three pups. Did I mention three dogs are not permitted in my building? Did I mention I’m a cat person?The second month that I own the place (June), I moved into my new condo with my friend and her wee beasts. A condo with no furniture, but a lovely view of greenery for us to admire while sitting on the floor. My friend bought an air mattress, which she slept on in the dining area with the three little ones. I have a bed frame (no mattress), and I slept on the planks...

A Serious Case of the Sads.

Since I haven't written in what seems like forever, I'm going to have to just sum up. I've gone through a shit storm of sadness with people I love dropping like flies. I can't tell you any more than that because it involves others who are private and don't want people to know what's going on in their lives. Suffice it to say that it's been a big struggle, and I have been wading through the muck of emotion for several months. There have been funny times during the morose moments. I can't detail that yet either, but it involves inappropriate taxidermy jokes. In general, I've been in Campbell River for months taking short breaks to hit Vancouver (I do...

Death, Dating ... Dominatrix? I Am Disturbed.

Facetious Financier wouldn't tell me how he got the photo of my butt, but it was posted on Facebook for a while because I was in the midst of my midlife crisis at the time and, well, why not, right? I was already on my way out of real estate at that point―at least mentally―so might as well throw on a dominatrix outfit and go parading around in public. (But it was Vegas, and I was one of a trio, so it wasn't like I was the only.) I would be deeply ashamed of myself for this―and several other escapades―except for the fact that I say shame on shame! Plus, my shenanigans inspire people; they know that they can redeem...

How To Get Skinny Fast. (Not "Skinny-Fat")

I Lost 10 Pounds. Start Skinny Shaming Me!Okay, so far no one has skinny shamed me—to my face! But I'm sure it's going to happen any day now because I'm getting skinny again, ya'll. What's the magic potion? Well, technically I'm not allowed to call it "magic" or "fat cure" or "God-in-a-bottle," but I ain't gonna lie. Dis shit is da bomb. The bulge-busting bomb, baby! "This stuff" is Thrive. And, yeah, I'm convinced it's making me svelte! Before we get to the part where I lost 10 pounds in a month—plus an inch off my muffin top—let me explain how I first gained the weight. Also, I'm disclosing that if you buy Thrive through me I do so...

Project: 50 First Dates aka Wanna Date Me?

Wanna Date?Shut. The. Front. Door! Project 50 first dates? Master Dater??? So, here’s the dealio. In case you’ve forgotten, I am now a (self-)certified Dating, Love and Relationship Coach—Expert! I mean, why not, right? I’ve studied love and relationships for years! Yes, because, like a mechanic’s broken down car, my own love life was in dire straits and needed some serious fixing. Crazy as it seems, I know a thing or ten thousand about people. But a mechanic doesn’t often get around to their own vehicle—until they have to. After giving love and relationship advice all these years, I figured I’d better start walking the talk. Yep. Luck favours the bold and brazen. (And crazy.) Here I...

Facelifts and So Forth

What To Consider When Considering Cosmetic Surgery. Anxious and waiting—and possibly oozing beneath the mummified bandages—in the private clinic of a plastic surgeon's office spotlighted by fluorescent lights ... Me: The swelling isn't that bad. Marilyn: I don't know. I have no one to compare it to. I don't know anyone who's had a facelift done. Me: Oh, you do. You just don't know that you do. I've seen a few. This ain't bad, I promise. Marilyn: That's encouraging! The surgeon comes in, and I take a close look at him to see if he's had any "work" done, as if it might reflect on his ability. Of course it doesn't unless he's operating on himself, and that would really...

Flirting & Master Dater ShenANNAgins

How To Meet Single Men In Vancouver.. Or Not. A girl friend and I are strolling by a hole-in-the-brick-wall mysterious venue in Gastown when a tall, not unhandsome guy in retro military gear asks us, "Are you into fetish parties?" An army green 1940s BMW cafe racer with matching camo sidecar is parked beside this scene with an antique ambulance behind it. A blockbuster-movie-sized photo light is aimed at the MASH ensemble. (I find out later Camo Guy owns the props in this mini movie set.) I scan the crowd loitering in the drizzling mist outside of the nameless lounge and see similarly attired patrons, several in skin-exposing camo, military boots and brush cuts. The men are just as interesting....

What's Wrong With Me??

This Blog Has Nothing To Do With Lesbianism And That's Why I Changed The Title Y'all.(Just roll eyes and keep reading...)He's got one latex-gloved finger deep in my mouth and the other stuck in my ear.I mumble something unintelligible, and he pulls his spittle-covered finger out of my mouth with a twist of his wrist as though twirling drippage from a just-poured bottle of wine.I swallow the accumulated saliva, clear my throat, stretch my jaw wide—activating a popping sound on my left side—and ask him, Did you hear that?He did.He waits with his hand in mid-air waiting for me to tell him whatever else I’m about to say.Me: Oh. Yes. No, nothing.But what I'm really thinking is how challenging it is...

And Then I Moved To Vancouver. I Think.

Episode One: The Silver FoxI flew over on Harbour Air. The water-landing five-seater delivered me from the harbour of my adulthood hometown to the harbour of downtown Vancouver. Forty minutes and 25 pounds of luggage, and I'm in the "big city."The intention was to stay at a girl friend's place while she is away to see if I like the city. Her place is near the Seawall—a pedestrian/bicycle path that meanders along the oceanfront and around Stanley Park—and within a few blocks of the hub of downtown Vancouver. Like!By the end of the first day, when asked where I live, I say, "I'm from Comox, but I'm thinking of moving here." By the end of the second day, it becomes...

Born-Again Virgin Seeks Semi-Chauvinist And Meaning Of Life. Or A Job. P.S. Vagina.

I'm at The Broken Spoke, an espresso-slash-bicycle shop. It reminds me of Deus Cafe in Venice, California, only Deus has pricey cafe racers and low quality coffee. The BS has affordable pedal bikes and rich, delish espresso. As a California-converted coffee snob, I now drive across town (seven minutes) for the best stuff: thick as molasses and smooth as Rihanna's clam. (I assume.) Speaking of vaginas—and, in my case, cobwebs—I went to my urologist the other day for more tests on my taco. Actually, they were bladder tests, but that's not nearly as fun to write, or say, aloud. Seriously, try it. "Bladder." "Taco." Or ... "Vagina!" Vagina: the funnest to say. The doctor is mid 30s and kind of...

Spirituality and Skinny Dipping.

Back in Canada, in my adulthood hometown, I thought for sure I would need to turn to mind-altering-slash-life-numbing substances. Maybe not right away—summers are lovely here—but perhaps by autumn and definitely by winter when day"light" (daygray) hours are from 8:00am to 4:30pm.But a funny thing happened.I drove home from Los Angeles, made record time, enjoyed clear freeways, experienced no border-crossing wait and no ferry-boat wait. And all with perfect weather.But that's not the funny thing. (Funny as in funny-peculiar.)The odd thing is—(pause, breath)—when I drove off that old, familiar ferry-boat arriving on Vancouver Island, I felt happy to be home.Home.This is the first time in four years of returning to Canada after traveling that, one, I felt good about being...

Hipsters, Crazies And Coffee.

I'll Miss You, Too, La La Land ...The HipstersWhile "researching" this "article," I sent an email to a gay, as in homo, as in homosexual homo-sapien—who I call J'Mo (his first name starts with J and, well, you get the rest). Anyway, I asked him how to tell the difference between a gay guy and a hipster.He basically tells me, You remember where I live, right? [My adulthood home town] where there is no obvious evidence of either! I have to admit—he's right. Even though I know several gay couples, I know of no one who wears suspenders, bow-ties, or their pants rolled up just so. (Not even in the lady couples.) And the fellows I've seen sporting beards and...

Let's Talk Razor Burn.

...Because Then She Shaved My Face...If you want a detailed list of the cosmetic procedures I've done to look baby-face fresh, you'll have to read my memoir. Or at least skip to that chapter. Oh wait, details are sprinkled throughout. In that case, feel free to skim-read—though, you would be missing out on plenty of shits and giggles-snorts. Just sayin' ... Just sayin'. Who else dislikes that saying? Riiight? (And that one.) And yet it slips out, not unlike a—I'll skip the innuendo because I'm a grown-up now. Though I can probably give myself one more year. I mean who ends adolescence at 44? OCDness alone begs another year (to make 45), but six is preferable (to round up to...

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