casa del vaginal anarchy

here’s the thing about living with girls when you’re an adult:


coming from someone who has never really enjoyed living with other human beings, this comes as a total shock. but i mean it- maybe it’s because i’ve known katie for ten years, and the shit we found funny when we were kids are still just as hilarious today. maybe it’s the fact that neither of us have actually matured since we got our first period, or that dick jokes and fart noises still have us roaring in stitches on the floor…

maybe it’s because ten years ago, i looked like this:

and katie looked like this:

so absolutely every other joke we make is about anarchy, and feminism, and making fun of how stupid we looked, and how awesome our childhoods were. i’m so lucky to be where i am- that after a gut-wrenching breakup with the man i wanted to spend the rest of my life with, i get to share a home with someone i grew up with. someone who knows me, and gets me, and who paints my nails when i watch criminal minds and cooks me fish for dinner after bootcamp.


i was really, really worried about how i would adjust to roommate life after not having roommates in over a year. how i would adjust to other people’s CRAP in MY HOUSE. but the fact is this: everything is perfect. her stuff “goes” with my stuff… we love the same things, we appreciate art and vintage and punk rock bands we’re still in love with. she’s an excellent cook, and she has a heart the size of the planet. and what was once me and dan’s house, turned MY HOUSE, has now transitioned so seamlessly into our house.

also dubbed casa del vaginal anarchy.



it’s the summer, internet. i have two days of work left before i run out of here with my shirt above my head, boobs out, screaming SPRING BREAK. the first real break i’ve give myself since i graduated high school and spent days broke, hungry, and crying in me and m’s apartment, waiting for him to come home.

fucking crazy, right?

half the women in my life are either married, pregnant, engaged, or happily co-habitating with their lovers. and considering just a few months ago i had already picked out me and dan’s wedding song, and peed on a stick because i totally thought we’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the first thing that popped into my head was “well, at least we love each other”- considering how fucking insane that sounds and how long ago that seems and how sad and lonely that makes me feel… all those things considered- i’m okay.

there’s something to be said for the strength and support the women in my life have given me. i am constantly laughing, having fun, drinking wine, being productive and carefree and so overwhelmed by how big my heart feels.

this must be one of the best places i’ve been (emotionally) in my life. maybe it’s the season, or the fact that i will soon have time to go to the beach, read in the park, nap IN THE AFTERNOON ON A WEEKDAY (holy shit, what does that even feel like?!), spend time with my night owl friends who work evenings, who fucking knows… i feel so LIMITLESS!

i have a movie date tonight, bootcamp this week, my friend’s champagne 30 birthday party on thursday, a BBQ & potential baseball game on friday, and one of my favourite bands is playing a local venue next tuesday- so many fun summer activities almost every single day of the week. how do i even have time to feel sad?

in other news… katie’s dog finnegan ate up my $300 hugo boss frames, so i bought two new pairs:




i should probably just rename this blog “progress reports of a girl who takes one step forward, and ten steps back”, or better yet “little elle: why bother”

HA! i’m funny.

this is what the mancave looked like a few weeks ago…

this is what it looked like after dan lived in here for a few weeks when we decided to break up


and through all of this? thank goodness for this… all of it:

late night wine & strawberries on my porch

hanging out in the park & blowing bubbles

midnight street frisbee, in the heart of the city

sink vs. swim

do you ever miss it?

i don’t know, really. yes? no? of course not. sometimes. obviously.

it fluctuates, i guess. with my mood, with the season, with my fucking outfit. sometimes i look in the mirror and i’m startled by its reflection. when did i become so tired? or when did i learn to smile again? it’s weird, i guess, to be wrapped up so tightly in a world of wretchedness and hide it so well. i don’t know how i could flee with such ease- how i could disconnect like that.

maybe i was young- it was so easy to fall and get wrapped up and just… be with someone. but things happened and i escaped myself and i may have just been a shell of a person- someone i once was. someone i’d never be again. maybe i glorified all those meaningless fucks because i wanted, more than anything, for them to be more than that. i wanted to prove (to myself) that i was capable of love again. not being in love. just… loving. i knew how, i thought. and it didn’t matter with who, i just needed to settle this bet with myself.

but his skin felt different, and his neck wasn’t comforting and i closed my eyes if he looked at me. i was sure not to touch his face, his shoulders, his chest, his hands- nothing that would connect us. i knew how to fuck without love. and i got better at it as time went on. hike your skirt and don’t look back.

men like that, right? when you drink them under the table, pound shots back while you’re dancing. when you have no fucking limits, no end. at some point, i couldn’t even tell when the night began or when the sun rose. i became so drunk off power, off lust, off getting away with all of it. i was secretive enough to keep them on their toes, yet open enough to have them back for more, if i wanted to. it became easy, i became cocky. they were afraid of me. i’d become a fucking liability because no one wanted to hurt like that. no one wanted to push those limits or feel so awful day after day. my body became my own punching bag, and i grew accustomed to the pain…

rolling out off someone (anyone)’s couch at dawn, naked and frazzled. my kidneys in so much pain i couldn’t even cough. stumbling through hallways to a bathroom so i could shit my fucking brains out, hack up a lung, and whimper in the shower. cracking a beer for breakfast. chewing gum all day to mask the taste of malt liquor. fighting the fatigue, fighting the urge to sleep forever because i knew then that if i’d give in, i’d give up forever. one more night, i’d say.

it lasted years.

how? fuck if i know.

and don’t get me wrong… some of my best memories were created during those times- during the better days, with better people. but i have this way of spiralling out of control so fast i lose my grip almost entirely. and yeah, you know, there will always be a part of me that will feed off the ecstacy of that lifestyle. and i will still have totally out of control crazy nights, sometimes.

but i think i’ve changed.

in some ways, at least. how could i not? it became a matter of life or death, job or unemployment, food or starvation, love or hate. it was either get healthy and grow up or fall off the map forever. because no one wants a broken girl like that; damaged goods. no one wants a fucking drunk for a girlfriend, for a daughter, for a friend.

and maybe dan did have a small part in helping me. he wanted so badly to be good again, to find some sort of common ground. when we were just friends, he would escape to the comforts of my living room and sleep in my bed and eat my casseroles. and without even realizing it, we were living the lifestyle i’d always wanted, deep down. the lifestyle i wasn’t comfortable sharing with anyone else.

so when i was sitting in my friend’s living room, eating the shepherds pie we’d just made from scratch, and talking about her due date… and she asked me, quite boldly do you ever miss it? , my initial instinct was to respond, without faulter, no. no fucking way.

and i guess i’d been mulling it over because, really, fuck it’s easy to let go… but i haven’t wavered. the answer is still no. this lifestyle i have, with these people in my life, and the job i work hard at, and the bills i pay (on time, no less), and the expensive furniture i finally own, and the effort i am putting into my home with dan… this is living. and i may shiver when i take my first sip of beer of the week, and i may still get a little giddy when i get afternoon drunk on a sunday, but it’s getting better. it’s definitely gotten easier. and i think that’s what’s important.

i don’t need to be black-out drunk to take my pants off in front of my boyfriend. and i don’t need to eat once a day to sustain life- i can cook and plan meals and enjoy dinners with my family and friends. and i don’t need to force myself to feel any sort of emotion, because with dan, it comes as naturally as breathing. as blinking. it just is.

and maybe that’s what scares me, sometimes. here i am, just being. and i’m okay with it. and i’m falling in love with it, even. i don’t have to worry about anyone’s intentions or the burden of fucking being alive because i actually have purpose now. and it’s a tough place to be, when i realize the last few years of my life have been some fucking bullshit ride i wanted off of- a rollercoaster i just kept riding because i had no other choice, i didn’t know any other options.

but that friend… the one who always asked me how i was doing, who always flat out questioned my sobriety any time we talked… she created a life. this perfect, tiny, healthy baby girl… and she’s changed everything. everyone around me is getting married, or having babies, moving in with their significant others, or packing up to start somewhere fresh together. it’s beautiful. here i was, thinking we were just a bunch of fuck ups, a bunch of punks having a good time. and it’s like the seasons changed and we’ve all started building our own families. my old roommate, skinhead jesse, is flying halfway across the country to make hundreds of thousands of dollars so he can buy his girlfriend a house in a year. so he can marry her and they can have babies in the city. jesse fucking germs wants to be a man. he wants to build a life and be a father… and the best part? he’d be amazing at it.

these last few days… spent renovating my new home, and spending time with my close friends who are all doing the same sort of things… i’ve just fallen completely in love with this city again. with my friends and our new lifestyles and where we’re headed.

because for the first time, man, we’re fucking headed somewhere.

and dammit, does that ever feel good.

valentines day

DISCLAIMER: i’m totally posting this against the little voice in my head screaming, “NO! don’t show the internet your wrinkles and rolls! you big, dumb idiot!” … but i told it to shut up, because it’s valentines day, and you totally deserve a piece of ass (and i just love all of you that much). and also, if you want to be a dillhole and tell me how gross i look, please do me a favour and send your hatemail to my email, or just shut your pie hole because even i deserve to feel hot for like, four seconds and it took me a ton of courage to actually post these. OH! and no stealing! DUH.

so! what did i do for valentines day? i broke into my boyfriend’s old house, got naked, and shotgunned a few beers in front of the camera.

all pictures by julie hope

did dan like it? ehhhh, not really. i knew it wasn’t his thing, and it’s not like he’s going to look at some pictures of me in my undernothings if he wants to get all hot and bothered… but it was totally a fun idea, and i must say that the lady behind the lens (a super good friend of mine/an old roommie) made all of my millions of insecurities disappear. it was a great experience and i totally had a hard-on for myself for the first time in years, even if it did only last, like, 5 minutes.

i hope your v-day was filled with blowjobs and hot makeouts and roses and chocolates!


– e

up, down, turn around- please don’t let me hit the ground

it’s funny the way things work out…

i’ve known dan for almost nine years. we used to drink 40’s of malt liquor in the school park after dark on the south end of the city. we’d make out up against brick walls when i was just fifteen. we used to drink beer in the dim of my parents’ basement in the suburbs, a whole bunch of teenagers with mohawks and patched jeans- drunkenly giggling at some indie film on the screen.

he remembers our first kiss.

dan and i drifted over the years- we’d party together here and there, and i’d see him out sometimes. but for the most part we’d gone separate ways. when andy and i broke up and i moved out of our house, i had a lot of free time on my hands. when i wasn’t drinking myself into oblivion, i was spending all my time catching up with most friends- one of them being dan.

when i finally got my apartment in may (only a few short blocks from dan’s house), we became inseparable. despite our opposite work schedules, we started spending all of our free time together- going to montreal to party, staying in on work nights for dinner and a movie, drinking tall cans on my couch in sweatpants, listening to hip hop and drinking wine until 5:30 in the morning, taking naps together on my couch, or dancing alone together to temptation by new order at 4am on my birthday. no matter what we did it was silly, it was fun… it was easy. he was my best friend.

two weeks ago after a long night at the bar, after too many pitchers of cheap beer and laughing so hard my sides ached, he kissed me. while ashley was taking silly pictures of us he stopped and kissed me.

and she snapped the picture just in time

the last few weeks have been a complete blur. but i am constantly amazed by how easily things fell into place for us. we’re that totally cheesy couple who text each other any time we’re not around. we kiss every chance we get and we’re completely inseparable. things are so different, and yet they’re still the same. he still makes me laugh until i cry, and i’m still caught off-guard by the way he looks at me.

when he got home from work last night we watched walking dead and drank a few beers with our buddy todd. the boys left to go to the bar for a bit and i stayed back because i had to be up early for work. and still- sometime in the middle of the night, dan came home to me, crawled into bed, kissed my forehead and said, “i can’t get over how easy this is… it feels like a dream”.

and just like that, i fell asleep.

party til you puke! (no, really)

i got really drunk, then really hungover, then sick with the flu.

i played up my character super well, i totally partied til i puked- only it wasn’t from the three tall cans i drank (…fail?), and i didn’t puke from my mouth. what a bummer. HA! BUM-mer.


i went to work for two and a half hours and feared actually mouth-barfing all over my pencil skirt, so i came home and napped for 6 hours. i just want to sleep for like, 4 days.

anyway, i can’t stop whining, so let’s just skip to the pictures

me! as andrew wk

dan and i

the lovely host- julie hope as a zombie mermaid, and her wonderful boyfriend, edward fourty-hands (before the 40’s were taped to his hands)

the after-math!

all pictures (minus the one of julie) by julie hope