Waterproof Make Up is Overrated

Folks, waterproof make up is overrated. This past week has put it to the test, and it failed miserably. Alright, now I’ll fess up with how I know this.

Last year was very up and down for me, I had my good days, I had my bad days and towards the end of the year most of my days were good days. So good they were wonderful. I was branching out with different career opportunities, I wasn’t partying nearly as much, Barrie and I were meeting lots of canine friends, and my ‘not’ relationship was finding itself again.

But I don’t know what happened. It was like 2017 smacked the side of my head and said hey there little lady….new year, same you, you sad sack of shit…. (Insert sad/annoyed emoji). Since January, I’ve been nothing but overthinking, and feeling. And ya’ll know I strongly dislike the idea of feeling, having feelings, caring for things etc. And overthinking brings on anxiety, and anxiety brings on thoughts that may or may not be true, which brings on more anxiety because I don’t know whether they are or not, which brings on sadness and utter defeat. I lose.

I’m not keeping track but I’ve probably cried at least 3 to 4 times a day, everyday since the new year. In the morning I cry, on my way to work I cry (sometimes at work I cry), my drive from work I cry and in bed I cry. I cry, I cry, I cry, like a big baby. I can’t control it. I’ve cried so much I am surprised my tear ducts haven’t dried up. Part of me thinks all this waterworks stuff has to do with me not crying or even having actual feelings for years and years. I was ‘dead’ inside then, now I am alive and it is so not worth it. Not even in the least bit.

I don’t want to be awake. Mostly I don’t want to be awake when I am alone. It’s a sad place to be. Don’t be alarmed, this is not to say I don’t want to exist, but I would rather be sleeping, just get lost in some sort of Slumberland, where I am not a depressed individual. Instead, I am Cait The Lovely! Who rides a unicorn and has a cotton candy bed!!! Unfortunately reality doesn’t allow for such pleasures.

sadpandaLately I have been leaving my house early for work. Sometimes 2 to 3 hours before work. I leave early because I don’t want to be home. I then find a place to grab a coffee, which I may or may not drink, and I drive around. Driving used to make me feel better. In some truth it still does. But I cry folks, I cry and cry and cry and before I know it I look like a panda. Mascara and eyeliner down my face, perhaps I look more like a sad mime, a disgruntled Beetlejuice, Morticia Addams, one of the Kardashians. Fuck, I don’t know, what ever I look like, well I am sure there is a meme out there somewhere for it.

I’m losing myself friends, I’m drowning in tears that are surely falling for ridiculous reasons. I’m lost in all this sappy and mushy shit. Emotions are exhausting, feelings are suffocating, and when they are placed inside my used-to-be hollow self… … …well, maybe I just shouldn’t wear make up anymore.

Lady-Like

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]

MOVING ON!

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!

Cait Tid-Bits #1

I am going to start trying something a little different now in my blogging. Not worry, I won’t get to sappy. I’m thinking from time to time I will write little blogs here and there revealing things about it. Just little tidbits to let you inside my mind a bit and muck about. 

Here goes!

ImageI despise Ryan Gosling. I DO! I can’t quite put my finger on it either. Part of me things he is completely over-rated and the other part can’t get Young Hercules out of my head. 

All I know is if he Hey Girl‘d me I’ve smack his ass (and no not in a form of coitus).

 

I once confused someone’s fart for a two egg breakfast…

My favourite pass time is sleep.

I am claustrophobic. Like actually so. Getting into an elevator is like shitting out a brick. It’s hard and rough, but somehow I get through it. Airplanes are the worst for me, I’m ordering beers every time turbulence hits. (I once saw a cat on the airplane wing, but that wasn’t the beer)

I play the shit out of video games. Through and through. I can’t rush through any game, I need to find all the nooks and cranny’s. Games with zombies aide me in overcoming me fears of not being able to find hidden gems and achievements. LEFT FOR DEAD my friends, DON’T BE A HERO.

ImageYou know how they say, you are what you eat? Well, after a hearty bowel movement I tend to take a look back, you know to see if she sinks or floats. A couple of times for a couple of days it was all blue. I’m talking about Queen Elizabeth royal blue. I’ve never been able to look a blue sour candies the same again.

After a long 8 hour drive to my grandma’s with 5 passengers and a dog in a crammed vehicle my claustrophobic ass could not wait to get out of the damn clown car. Unfortunately, the old man pushed the breaks a little to far and as I was leaning forward my dog flung backwards and my finger….my poor finger….it was my dogs first unintentional enema. The poor pooch couldn’t look at me for a week.

My grandma knocked me out when I was a wee little lass. After her countless calls for me to go to bed, I put my acting skills to use and pretending to sleep on the couch with my eyes open, while Dallas was on the TV. So be the good, kind lady she was and still is she picked me up by the ankles, carried me up the stairs and my head hit the banister on the way up. Needless to say I was sleeping like bear hibernating.

I stole money from my mom’s purse so that I could buy rocks from my little sister’s rock selling store. I feel it was a terrible investment.

There is this place under my ear, close to my jaw line, that I loved to be kissed on.

In high school, I received a marriage certificate. My husband, Ewan McGregor. My mother’s response: Great Scot! He sure was, wasn’t he.

When my V-card got swiped, I cried like a baby.

The smell of curry makes: my skin shrivel up like a prune, my nose burn, my stomach churn and makes me want to vomit. I would rather eat worms then be near the terrible smell. (For those of you who don’t know, my first experience with Indian food, left me hugging porcelain for three days.)

 

One DAM Night!

First off, before I tell you about my night on Saturday, March 2nd, at the Giggle Dam, let me get something off my chest. Who the fuck calls a place the Giggle Dam? Honestly, it sounds like something I put up tight in my gash to prevent accidents. (Yes, my cunt laughs). Another thing, giggle is such a funny word. Giggle. Alright, I’m done, that’s all I had.

So for those of you who don’t know the Giggle Dam is dinner theatre, more specifically comedy dinner theatre. Now, I have been to my fair share of dinner theatres, I’ve been to murder mysteries, musicals and they are very much a 50/50 thing. Some are pretty ‘neat’, others suck balls. This one was ‘meh’, but enjoyable nonetheless. Now, it’s usually hard for me to enjoy shows, mainly because I have done theatre and currently act in and around Vancouver, (knowing the ins and outs of the business can sometimes demolish the surprise). 

When I attend dinner theatre, my heart instantly goes out to the actors, whether they want it or not. Man, do I feel sorry for those suckers. That is the one place I do not ever want to end up with my acting career, I would rather work at a Denny’s before I hit the dinner theatre. (Please keep in mind this is matter of opinion, also keep in mind my opinion matters). I’m sure the actors enjoy themselves there, it at least seems like they do, which is a good sign (for them).  For me, not my thing, I’ll go there to watch, to eat and not pay for a ticket, but that is the most involvement I want in dinner theatre.

The theme for that night’s show was 8o’s, that’s cool, I dig, although I think 80’s have been over done. When we enter the theatre we are assigned seats, because my boyfriend and I were there, along with his family to celebrate his dad’s birthday we sat very close to the stage. (Always a bonus).

They have their appetizer out already waiting for us on the table. I did not eat it, nor did my boyfriend’s sister, which was somewhat funny because it was probably the most healthiest appetizer I had ever seen with tomatoes, cheese and green stuff(also known as salad). Instead we fed it to our arm candy, which they ate no problemo.

While the audience was still settling in, the actors were dressed in 80’s attire. Oh before I forgot to mention, “Ozzy Ozbourne” was also there. Now, if I were these actors I would do two things before the show: do a line of coke or be drunk as fuck (especially since it was the finale show). I did not see evidence of any of these actors doing this, for that, I applaud them greatly.

Once the audience has arrived and the doors to the theatre are closed the show begins. The host comes out, English accent (fake), punk/rock rocker kind of vibe going on, tank, leather, mullet wig etc. He cracks wise, kind of funny, introduces the other actors, the sounds guys, makes some announcements and the show officially, officially begins.

Now call me cunt if you wish, but I do not think the sounds operators and backstage hand need to be mentioned. Who the fuck cares, but the actors anyways? I know I fucking don’t, especially as an audience member. Yes, they work hard, and their work is quite tedious and they need to be on the ball for the show to run through smoothly, HOWEVER! It completely ruins the element of surprise for the audience. This also goes to when the thank yous and the curtain call are happening. The audience does not care for the back stage crew, just the actors. WHY?! Because that’s all we fucking see and that is all that matters for us. We don’t pay money to see a stage hand work! Think about it! If my future offspring becomes a stage hand and asks me to attend the show, I would say fuck no! Unless of course there is full frontal nudity involved with the actors (not the stage crew).

So anyways, we order our food, and have our main courses set. The actors are performing cute, nostalgic skits, some comedy involved. Now one thing I commend dinner theatres for, is their involvement with the audience. Most of the stuff they do is in fact improv because they revolve their skits around the audience, and there is a different audience every night. This part is awesome and I definitely enjoy it!

Because it was my father in law’s birthday, (along with many other people who I don’t care about), he was selected to be in the show! AWESOME! Michael Jackson, SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!  He was dressed up as the King of Pop and was absolutely hilarious! I dribbled in my pants for sure, I was laughing so hard.

They did quite a bit of singing too. Didn’t really enjoy it so much, if I wanted to watch singers I’d go to a concert with people who can actually sing. I mean, these actors had voices for sure, and could definitely hum a tune, but fuck, just stick to the comedy.

All in all, a good night! It was long, but the food was alright, the skits were alright, but being in good company is what made it fun!

Giggle Dam, you are alright in my books.