Alright friends, since my last few bloggy blogs have been nothing but sad, sad stories, I have decided to switch things up and be not so depressing. [however: the fact I am blogging at 2 in the morning, chiefing my peace pipe while watching Say Yes To The Dress is in fact incredibly sad news]


Tonight/today/this morning… whenever the fuck you decide to read this, I am here to give you all some lovely little lady-like advice. Those of you who know me, know I am quite the woman, but I certainly ain’t no lady. REGARDLESS! I am here, and I am willing and I am ready {Side Note: These are the words I said to the first man I slept with after my ex, and it was wet, wild and worth it!, granted I was on my knees wearing nipple pasties and an edible thong, but you get the idea].

  1. e551991c8f7d806c962b0c8069cb96f2Be straight-forward. Don’t be some pansey lil’ asshole that beats around the bush. You want something, take it, you want to say something, say it! Some fucker keeps hollaring at you and you ain’t interested, kick the clown in the fucking pecker and be done with it. No bullshit ladies! No fucking bullshit! Ain’t nobody got time for that, especially a lady.
  2. Honesty. If I ask you if you masturbate and you say no. You are a goddamn liar and certainly no lady. Be honest with yourself and others. It doesn’t mean we want to listen to your ETrue Hollywood Story (chances are we don’t and no one gives 2 shits about it), it means be HONEST.
  3. Leave a little mystery. You want men to say Who is this girl? I want to know more? Oh the things I would do! etc.etc. Trust me, mystery is key and the longer you keep it going the better. Sure, if you shacking up with some fellow over and over again, the mystery may fade, fuck the mystery could be over the first time you play anal acoustics, but alas leave a lil something something to keep those boys wanted more. (Side story: I totally was vibing this one guy and he was vibing me, and this had been something going on for quite awhile, when we finally did the deed. That was it, he was done with me, no mystery left in his mind. I was left with no respect and a sore vagina)
  4. Be short. Not as in pint-sized, but as in how you verbalize your thoughts. So for example: Him: Where were you last night? Me: Out. Him: Did you have fun? Me: Sure did. Him: Do you care to share? Me: Not really. Now I know this may feel like it’s coming off as a bit dickish, but it’s not, it’s lady-like. Why? Because you aren’t giving away to much and it’s no one’s business anyways. Plus, the moments you do decide to divulge a little more, they’ll either appreciate or not fucking listen.
  5. Never stay the night. NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER!!! Stay the night, don’t do it. That has been probably my number rule in life and in being lady-like. Now, I am definitely a sucker for morning sex, it’s totally my jam. I love waking up getting a nice, lazy shag going on and then bounce. HOWEVER, these moments needs to happen before the early birds make it for 5$ breakfast. Reasons for this: 1) After a night of whatever my make up and hair is no more as mint as it was prior to. Half the time, I resemble a sad panda already regretting past shenanigans. Not ideal, not sexy. not lady-like. 2) If you leave before him waking up he’ll either appreciate your kindness and will want to see more of you, or he will wish you stayed and still wants more of you. win/win.
  6. e14cd95a68c4bbe95d829d6b48715722 (1)Lingerie (spanx included). Always, have some lingerie floating around. I know I do. I have some on hand just in case. Men, love it. Even just having dudes know you have it around is good. Here’s why and I’ll explain this by sharing a little antidote in The Life of Cait. I once had a friend you was fuck buddy. One day he saw lingerie in my car, he inquired about it, and immediately I saw his eyes light up. But every time we  bumped naughty bits, I never wore it. UNTIL …..(drum roll please) ….one day, after countless games of hide the sausage I finally had it on and the look on his face, was fucking worth it. He went wild, that night we banged until the sun came up (may of broke my not spending the night rule). Lingerie ladies. L-I-N-G-E-R-I-E.
  7. Pay your own way. There is nothing worse than a thirsty bitch. No guy needs some cunt soaking up his hard earned $$$$$. Pay your own ladies. It really is that simple. When I go out I always pay my own. Once in a while, when then man I’m with takes a wiz, I’ll pay his too. It shows mutual respect, and whether we are a couple or not, he can always get me back next time. No biggy. Now, sure if I am out on a date, and he wants to pay, I’ll let him, but I always offer. (I GIVE, I GIVE, I GIVE!)
  8. Let a man feel like a man. Now, I am a huge fan of bringing a man down, but when I do, I build him up just so I can bring him back down all over again haha! KIDDING! Nah, I am not that rude. What I mean to say is, let the man you are with (whether your friend, boyfriend, or whatever) feel like what he is. A FUCKING MAN. Let him make the moves and let him lead the way. And if for whatever reason he can’t and he is struggling, guide him, but let never take the lead.
  9. Be free. Don’t let anyone, let alone a man tell you how to live your life. Do it your 26POP-master768way. My way is usually slagging it up at the local pub, but every lady has their own way of expressing their freedom. I choose free love man. FREE FUCKING LOVE!
  10. Own it! And owning shit involves a multitude of things. Whatever shape or size you are. Be proud girl, love yourself completely! You make a mistake, own up to it. Acknowledge your faults, it’s okay. Everybody has fucked up, don’t hide it. Be the first to say sorry if it comes down to it. You bought a dress a size off, wear that shit like no other (but return it the next day) haha.

Alright ladies. These are just a few tips to being a true lady (at least in my world). In the words of Storm Large “What the fuck is lady-like if ladies like to do the fuck they like”just like me!


Pollinated by the Wind.

GUESS WHAT FUCKERS!!! I’M BACK!!! Now isn’t that just the sweetest way to say HELLO after almost a year or so hiatus. Truth be told, I have been blogging, documenting life’s little tidbits in my trusty little handwritten book, and just be too god damn lazy to type them up. But don’t worry dear friends. Time will come when these lil doodle poetics will be placed on the cyber net for your viewing pleasure only.

Anywho, I thought I’d blog ya’lls with a lil update on me. (So not narcissistic at all)….

So since I’m a 27 year old biddy, and excellent at writing lists, that is what I shall do.

  • My last blog was about me getting a baby. And no, I’m not talking about shitting out a kid or buying Mongolian toddlers from the black market. I got myself, a dog, name Barrie St.Bernard. And yes, that is his full name.
  • My cat Olive, only enjoys Barrie St.Bernard for the shear fact he eats her shit. Other than that, he is the Bane of her existence. (And yes, Bane as in Batman.)
  • I’ve up and left my last humble abode. And graduated from the Upper Ghetto of New West to Chateau El’La Shanty Town, Burnaby.
  • My 6th anniversary with my man was forgotten. La Fin.ac48f32f3daca5a9f9eb4d8686938ff2
  • I looked in the mirror one day and realized how time flies by. Also discovered a new freckle. I named it Dotty
  • Did spring cleaning in December and liked it. Also found some cheese string in a pair of denims I haven’t worn since circa,08;
  • Became addicted to Red Bull after a gaming marathon which resulted in me stroking out after I lost 142 of my saves.
  • My girlfriend passed away this summer. Incredibly heart-breaking.
  • Finally, a few of the movies I worked on are out. Check out, Step Up 5, Big Eyes, If I Stay, Night of The Museum 3 and more. I will say this my endeavors of becoming an actor have resulted in me being ‘arm-candy’, a statue, ‘girl with tray’, serving wench, ‘sad girl 2’, ‘a hungry I’, ‘wedding guest’ , ‘hand double’ etc.…My resume must be looking pretty tasty right about now.
  • Did the ALS ice bucket challenge and actually donated 100$.
  • I still wear a fanny pack.
  • My daily trips to the dog park without a dog park are no more! I am now a real person and have Barrie to venture to the parks too. Perfect place to smoke my medicine, and unwind while Barrie roams free in a fenced off area, a place that resembles a concentration camp. Anne Frank would be proud…How…ideal…
  • Convinced myself that rolling my eyes is burning calories. FYI it is.
  • I now practice drinking coffee black/decaf/with a straw/peppermint gum. Why I’m practicing? Fuck if I know.
  • Held my fart in once for a whole day, just so I could dutch-oven my man, after he forgot to take out the trash. (Future reference for anyone who has the pleasure of living with me. TAKE OUT THE TRASH).
  • New Love: Matthew Goode.
  • I realized:…..even-god-wont-save-you-worst-bad-childrens-book-vintage
  • Finally retired my Peter Rabbit stuffy to the closet. Don’t worry I’m sure he will come out of the closet again. If Anne Heche can, Peter Rabbit can too.
  • I now only make status updates on Facebook while sitting on the toilet.
  • Decided to take up cooking, by buying a microwave. Only to return it, when I realized I don’t enjoy cooking.
  • Attempted to hold a quarter in my stink crease. (Still have not found the quarter)
  • Slept in the parking lot of Timmy Ho’s. (Clearly, a high point in my life).
  • Put my car Mia, out to pasture. She’s such a slag.
  • Went home for the holidays to see the fam. So in love with being the crazy auntie from out West.
  • I wrote Dr. Phil a love letter. Also went into great detail about how I feel I’ve been pollinated by the wind. He has yet to respond. Xoxo.
  • All summer I feasted on Mexican food while living in this great city of ours.
  • YOLO, mother fucker, YOLO.

A Sobering Revelation

Hey folks. Guess What! Tomorrow, will be the first day of something new (among other things I am sure). Ahem, what I mean to say is tomorrow will be the start of not drinking alcohol.


Now before you tell me to shut the front door, let me tell you why I am making this decision.

Firstly, no hangovers. After a night of heavy drinking I feel like shit, I don’t want to socialize, I don’t feel good, I shower 4 to 5 times in a day, constantly eating, dishing out the occasional and awkward apologies, my morning workout feels like Thor slammed a bitch (me being the bitch) with his hammer. Every time I am hung over all I want to do is float on water (sorry my bathtub doesn’t cut it.) I just want to smoke my peace pipe and pet my kitty. MEOW!

No alcohol, no hangovers.

More Money! Holler! Not that I spend wads of cash on firewater anyway, but it definitely saves a few bucks here and there. There is nothing like seeing a lot of greenbacks in my wallet. Plus I won’t be fucking myself over come time to pay bills and rent.

Health. It is obvious that with abstaining from weekend beer benders there are both short term and long term effects.

            Short term being no hangovers!

            Long term being: clearer skin, stronger organs, better body etc. etc. etc.

Clearer thoughts. I find the more I drink, not only the stupider I get, but I can’t think straight until them brewsky toxins leach their way out of my body. Honestly, sometimes I feel I revert back to my child-like-minded state and re-learning everything a new.

Happiness. Maybe and just maybe, I will be happier. I’ve been finding lately that whenever I drink, I can just loose myself in my hammered state and not give a fuck about anything. But despite that, it doesn’t beat a morning run, it is not as comforting as wrapping myself in warm laundry blankets from the dryer, not as refreshing as a hot bath, and not as cherished like the times I spend with my family.

Strengthening relationships: Lets face it, when I drink a lot, I get a tad flirty. Nothing is meant by it at all, but I would rather make obvious fuck ups in my monogamist relationship with my man while I’m sober. At least that way I know in my right and sober mind what I am doing. Not too mention sometimes alcohol just makes relationships toxic. I tell ya my I am drinking and my man is drinking sometimes we have the best of times, but mostly it’s arguing and fighting. Not healthy in anyway and definitely not worth it. So not worth it.

So lets see how this goes friends. Finding myself, without alcohol as a side-kick.

Awesome. This will be just awesome.

26 Mind blowing Things

Alrighty folks, friends, followers, lovers, peeps, homies, whateverthefuck, today is the day I am one year older. Yup, you heard it hear first folks, it’s been 26 years since my mother shat out a big headed, jaundiced, happy lil babe with the likes of Topo Gigio. Now, in this 26 year bender of mine, I assure you I have learned and maintained some knowledge of random somethings and I feel obligated to share this usefully useless information with you.

Let us begin!

1) No matter what, Grandma knows best.I only have half a mind to write a whole other list in this blog as to why grandmas (especially mine) are rock solid wise old biddies. Here are just a few things I’ve cherished about my beloved grandma;

  • She gave boyfriend advice to friends and family by using myself as an example. She did so by explaining that more people should be like me because I get a little taste of everything (take that how you will.)
  • She knocked me out unconscious (BY ACCIDENT I assure you) after I was pretending to actually be sleeping. I didn’t wake up until noon the next day, best sleep of my life.
  • I was driving before I was legally able to drive. Granted I also didn’t get my license until I was 20. She and I would do Meals-On-Wheels for the old people and let me just tell you that at the time my grandma was well over 70.
  • My love for cards would be non-existent if it wasn’t for her. Little known fact, The King Of Hearts has no mustache, Grandma told me it was because he’s no sphincter master. Sphincter’s to make coffee…..right?

2) Cat’s are never your friends. Intensely - Cat with mean face

3) The best way to break an awkward silence moment is by an anal air attack. However, if that is also silent, then you’ve failed.

4) Puns are a way of life.

5) Things could always be worse. It could be raining balls (the man kind), you could be doing the pee-pee dance only as an attempt to waff out the giant fart you refused to take ownership in that happened 5 minutes ago, having every channel with The Rosie O’Donnell Show, not being able to fit your cookie in your glass of milk, playing Fable 3, pan-handling for pennies at the Panda Express, etc. etc.

6) Hip chucking is the best form of showcasing ones friendship.

7) Cracking wise is an awesome form of release. Cracking wise while rubbing one out even better.

8) French Fries  are worship worthy. Whoever invented the French Fry deserves a shrine. Mayo and fries, ketchup and fries, plum sauce and fries, vinegar and fries, fries and fries, yam fries, sweet potato fries, JUMBO fries…..mmmmm….fries…..

9) Tampons make great ghosts for Halloween.788d78391c8a631373a153c0d57628d5

10) Weekly clipping of finger and toe nails is a must.

11) Instead of using the toggly bit on the vacuum that is supposed to suck up all the scum in cracks of furniture and corners of the walls, I use a lint roller. When I’m too lazy for the ‘Lint Roller Method’ I cover it up or close my eyes.

12) Pancake dinners are the WHAMBAM! Especially when big ol’ PopPop would make them into Mickey Mouse heads.

13) Blogs arenot’ wirth having purfect spelling or grammer, becuz who da fuck gives a damn, nowone said you needed too be a scholar to blog nonsense.

14) Some things are better left unsaid.

15)…. …. ….

16) After being told for years to lead by example, I’ve inherited one saying to lead my people: Do as I say and not as I do.

17) I’ve said this before in previous blogs and I’ll say it again. COLLECT THEM BOTTLECAPS!

18) A great workout is the best way to feel confident and show it to the world. It’s also the best way to get a good healthy shit brewing in your tumtum.

19) Dan Aykroyd was a fox back in them Buster years.

20) The easiest way to move passed depression is to get over it. (Words spoken by a wise old mama who dressed up as Ronald MacDonald and went to my school for no reason, accept embarrassing me).

21) Having sisters is totally worth the syncing of menstrual flows and moody bitches.

22) There are more things in the world then Candy Crush.

23) The Little Hobo is the ultimate super hero. (Ever since Ben Affleck has been cast at Batman, he no longer is number one. Thanks Ben, NOW GO EAT YOUR CEREAL!)

24) There is no place like home.

25) The best part of waking up is Timmy’s in my cup.Oh and Dr. Phil.

26) whatever-you-re-doing-it-s-not-as-important-as-petting-the-cat-funny-poster-print Especially on acid.

There you have it, some of the random facts of life I was able to maintain through my 26 years of having a heart beating. Some even MIND-BLOWING! Of course, I’ve learned more, I’m not some dumb ass inbred name Cletus that auntie/mom and uncle/brother created. I am the result of two awesome parents and a 6 pack of Blue.

My Future Man Candy and Offspring.

When I have a family of my own, as in a man and some kidlets, and maybe a cat or some furry shitter, my hopes are it will be just the way I imagine it.

ImageLet’s start with the main man.

He’s cool, calm and collected, but not as cool as me. He’ll be able to laugh and smile, but not jolly, fuck jolly.  Being happy and laid back is what I am all about, I’m not saying I want a man hooked on uppers and anti-depressants who doesn’t give a fuck who the baby’s daddy is, but he just can’t be so stone cold serious. I slap those fuckers, and I slap like man, bitch!

I would like my man to be huggable, you know? Like a teddy bear, but not furry (body hair limited please.) BONUS if he has a treasure trail! (if you don’t know what that is you are out of the running), I love to find the treasure!!!

He will be the money maker. Now this is something I have struggled deciding. You see, I always pictured myself as the bread winner. I like my independence and not having to depend on other people financially, HOWEVER! I think my weekly dosage of housewives has made me to think differently. BUT, if Hollywood is calling my name, I’m all game for the bread!Image

He will cook! This is a must, I don’t care if he’s a dirty, little, ass wipe,  who doesn’t clean the fuck up, as long as he cooks me a great meal and feeds my belly, I’m happy. (Note: Must do his own laundry, I don’t want to be wiping skiddys that are not mine with a loofa).

He will be great with the kids, may not spend so much time with them because ideally he will be working all the time. But when he is home he spends it with his kids, friends and family.

Must be a MAN! And I don’t mean have a penis (please remember husband, your penis is mine). I don’t want to hear your sappy stories, don’t write me love songs, or fan me with a giant leaf (though definite BJ’s would be in order if you did so-once in awhile). Be a fucking man! Drink beer, fart (I fart a lot so eat your fibre), play poker, watch the game with the boys and all that manly shit. Hey I may even let your slap me around a little, just to up your “macho-ness!”  If I catch your ass reading Nicholas Sparks and tear jerking, you will be out on the curb with your fanny pack and loafers, you FAG! If you start playing for the same team as me, you are out of your league.

Lets move on to my offspring! Ideally, 3-4 kids.

Oldest- A boy named James, or something with a J. Jake, Jasper, Jeremiah, Johnny etc. Well rounded and succeeds in everything, I’m talking school valedictorian, team captain, and a true gentlemen. I raised this pansy well. After the first two, I started to slack off.

ImageMiddleman- The letter T comes to mind, Teddy, Thomas, Theo, etc. It wouldn’t really matter what his first name is because all his class mates would call him by his last name anyways. The family athlete! Why? Because he’s dumb as fuck and sports is all he has going for him. Sometimes, I wonder if the doctors are wrong and he actually does have a mild form of autism. I also contemplate if I should have named him Boz and he should mingle with his best friend/cousin Moonbeam (a downy) down the street. They could have stayed in the same church group so he would be among his people. But this is a thought I keep to myself, until I am on my death bed dying of alcohol poisoning from a night of swimming in a beer flood at the ripe old age of 70.

Ponyboy- Named Benjamin. More introverted, but funny as hell. He plays video games and is into the latest technology. Loves the old stuff and I mean the good old stuff, records, old films, he is a very retro style kind of kid. Has killer taste in music (I past this trait onto him). He is incredibly smart, and a total cheapskate. Very money conscious, reasons I suspect he is a Jew.

ImageNow if I have a fourth child it will be a girl. Her name will end in A like, Nyla, Mia, Fiona, Lita, Mina, I don’t mind if it sounds like a midnight flower  stripper name. She will be the baby of the family and everybody, but me will see her that way. Her big brothers will do anything for her. She will be how I was as a child, bubbly, talkative, maybe a yodeler or something.

We’ll have one big ass mother fucking dog! He’ll outlive my man.

All my kidlets will be well-manners, but will have their little rebellious moments. We will eat dinners at the table together, we will play board games (but only on Friday nights with some pizza) and when they are old they will reminisce about the moments mom and dad embarrassed the shit out of them on purpose.

I cannot wait! If I read this 10 years from now and my family is not like this I will definitely be mail ordering some babies my way.

(Please note: Some things I may have said in this blog may be offensive. If they were personally offensive to you I would just like to say, man the fuck up and deal with it. I would also like to say, I am not racist or homophobic or a Jew, just straight up honest. BONG!)

Hangover For Churches

Why is it that every time after a night of heavy drinking, I feel the need to go to church. And I’m talking like, I am hung the fuck over: Can barely put words to together, headache, gut rot, I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry, and I am completely aware that chances are there is a large cock and balls drawn with a Sharpy on my forehead. All I can think of in these self-reflecting moments is God fucking hates me. I should go to church. FML.

I used to go to church. I mean I was baptized as a wee little babe, in a God forsaken long  “Uni-sexual” gown of Bounty and Royale (excuse my language). In the summer time, I stayed with my Grandma and every Sunday she went to church, and I felt this deep over-whelming sense of guilt if I chose not to go. So going, I made sure I had a mission: Wine. bread, and puppets. (Don’t ask me about the puppets.)

As I got older, I would find my ways to make up excuses to not go to Church.

  • I’m working.
  • My butts to big for the pews.
  • I’m sleeping.
  • Me and the alter boy sinned together.
  • They banned me from singing hymns.
  • I visited God last night.
  • I’m constipated.
  • Etc.Etc. Etc

Every time my Grandma left to go to her Holy ground of Bible thumpers and humpers, I would give her the Vulcan Salute and say “Peace Be With You”.

I just couldn’t do it. Hearing the reminders of God’s love was boring, repetitive and a fucking lie. God doesn’t love me. If he loved me he would say (in a Jamaican accent) “Cait, my child, the yellow ones taste like chicken, and Jesus loves the pole. BONG!”

I drink wine. I think that it is a wonderful blasty blast of a way to show my love for God. But whenever I do, he punishes me. I think it’s because I really don’t love him. If God could cure my hangovers I would consider going to church. Actually if God was a Jedi Knight, I would go, I feel the force would be strong in that one,

Forgive me Father for I have sinned, I find your lack of faith disturbing.