Noun: a weight hung from a fixed point so that it can swing freely backward and forward.

"My heart swings back and forth between the need for routine and the urge to run."



Noun: someone who obtains pleasure from receiving punishment.

If there is one lesson to learn as I've grown up a few inches, is this: if your closest surrounding people do not like the person you are dating, there are probably sufficient grounds for disapproval. If I could go back and tell my (younger) self one thing, it would be that. I'll tell myself now as well.
Someone who is blind makes up for their deficiency with the other senses. A person in love is blinded, yet, rather than have a heightened intelligence elsewhere, they actually lose something; usually their common sense. The ones who support you, the family and friends, are your lost sense. They see things you make excuses for.
The amount of smart females I see (me included) chasing guys who will never love them like they want is absurd. When did we become so dumb? Didn't our mother's raise us better? I know mine did. Let's not forget the number of men who have succumbed to an overly protective girlfriend/wife who no longer "allows" him to hang out with his friend of forever; whip it real good.

You know you have a problem when it is so evident just through the words on your blog that your friend who lives in Paris tells you he sounds like a waste of time and you can do better. Yet you're still dreaming of the one you can never have...




Noun: a person, especially a child, who cries readily for very little reason. A person who complains too much.

When did men become so sensitive? You write a few words about someone and they take it so personal. Is it really that offending? The intention is not to hurt somebody's feelings; there really is no purpose other than I'm single and I like to write.
My main concern is what a small, small world Montreal is. I would bet money (and I hardly know how to gamble) that it is near impossible to meet someone in this city who isn't somehow connected to you. They will always be someone's brother's ex-girlfriend's cousin in law; or something.
Having spent the past weekend in Toronto truly made me realize what a condense place it is we live in here (MTL). Toronto seems to be full of oh so yummy guys who  know how to play with eye contact and keep a girl on edge; they also seem to pick the perfectly appropriate moment to pounce. I'm so bored of Montreal and slowly losing hope.
I can't help but wonder if I'm risking staying single forever by staying in this city.

Especially if  the men continue to get insulted by my blog...



Adjective: (of a person or action) showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgement.

Dear men of the world,
Do you legitimately believe you get a free pass because "it's Vegas"? I understand that it (Vegas) doesn't feel like real life, but it is. I could possibly try to understand had the encounter been a onetime thing, no phone numbers exchanged. But when you program my digits into your phone and text me your name so I have yours, you definitely just crossed the "it's Vegas" excuse line. Especially when you continue to text me throughout the next three days (in Vegas). Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining per say, just doing my best to comprehend the male mind; a problem solving skill I will never succeed at.
I decided to put the man to the test. I was always taught not to make assumptions; therefore it would be unjust to presume that he definitely had a girlfriend. I also needed to determine if it would be necessary to schedule a bikini wax before my Toronto weekend getaway. So one week later I brought what happened in Vegas to real life and put his phone number to the test in Canadian time. Clearly a happily in love boyfriend would not respond, right? Well, I received a reply. I even was given clear directions including time and day of when I should "holler" if I wanted to (no, I am not lying). The convo was short and sweet, he was working (bartender; how many signs are going to point to no?).
Since I love a good chase and was still not one hundred percent convinced he was off limits, I took advantage of this past Friday's girl's night (and three bottles of wine). I bluntly asked him if he was a married man; explaining that his eyelashes had been haunting my dreams and that if I was dreaming of a married man I would need to go to confession. He clearly stated he was not married and that I didn't need to confess. After telling him to prove it and that I would be in Toronto the following weekend he replied something resembling' I never said I was single...' but to come by his bar anyways. I said I knew it. He said it wasn't what I thought. I said that's what they all say.

Dear women of the world,

Do you really not know your man is a cheater?


Why do I always crave the bad boys?




Verb: accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another person.

Being a female in a Las Vegas nightclub can be best compared to a single mouse in a forest full of wild boar. Upon entering you are no longer regarded as human, but rather look at as prey. You will be surrounded and encircled by males within seconds; there will be no escape.
Our second night in Vegas was at Light Nightclub. We were overwhelmed before we had a chance to get inside, so once we did make our way to the bar we were in desperate need of strong drinks. Yes we purchased our own beverages. I have a sneaking suspicion that my age has matured me into a woman who would rather spend her own money than uninterestingly chat with a guy for free drinks. Although this did not distract the men from swarming.
The first guy was solo. Though he claimed his friends were around somewhere. He invited us to his cabana at the Mandalay pool on Sunday; sure. He bragged about his friend placing a thirty thousand dollar bet on red? Does that gambling reference make sense? I can't remember, I clearly was not impressed.
The second duo was from Brazil. Initially this caught my attention as I imagined myself with a husband who allowed me to visit Brazil whenever I needed to escape the cold Canadian winters. However they weren't overly interesting  and one was a little too pushy causing my friend to call an emergency getaway.
Third time is always a charm. Two of my friends chatted up some boys as a ploy to get rid of the Brazilian men. I continued to dance with my third friend not paying much attention. Until someone pulled my pony tail; an immediate turn on. It just so happened to be one of the guys part of the charming third trio (I swear it happened like one, two, three) from Toronto (of course we would meet Toronto boys in Vegas).  After being introduced to the Drake look-a-like who pulled my pony tail, I was immediately hooked. Lust at first sight into eyes so blue I now understand the saying 'you can get lost in them', eyelashes so long I disregarded all/any common sense, lips so beautiful I kissed a stranger. When I witnessed a tattoo sleeve peaking out of his shirt, the lust may have turned into drunken love.

Coincidently I have a weekend trip planned to Toronto on May sixteenth. However, upon my return home I managed to succeed at my FBI stalking skills and I am quite certain that my Vegas affair actually has a girlfriend...douchebag.



Las Vegas, /lɑːs ˈvɡəs/ officially the City of Las Vegas and often known as simply Vegas, is the most populous city in the U.S. state of Nevada and the county seat of Clark County.[5] Las Vegas is an internationally renowned major resort city known primarily for gambling, shopping, fine dining, and nightlife and is the leading financial and cultural center for Southern Nevada. The city bills itself as The Entertainment Capital of the World, and is famous for its consolidated casinohotels and associated entertainment.

If you have never been to Vegas you will probably not understand how I returned from the city of sin almost one week ago, yet I am still recuperating. There really is no possible way to explain a Vegas vacation in its entirety and although I was (probably) not as wild as I anticipated, it was an absolute amazing experience. There was not an ounce of disappointment in any detail of the trip, from the hotel (The Mandalay Bay Hotel & Casino), to the restaurants (my favourite being The Barrymore) and the long (hung-over) trek through the desert for my lasting tattoo souvenir (at Downtown Tattoo); except perhaps the lack of sleep and stamina. The motto for our five days: POWER THROUGH IT.
When Vegas is defined as the Disneyland for adults, it is no lie. I imagine the look on my face the first time seeing the strip rather resembled that of a child's initial glimpse of the Magic Castle. Every part of your body is being over stimulated as there is so much action in every direction it is sometimes overwhelming. Just the mere recollection has me excited and stumbling over my words.

I expected to go to Vegas and party 24/7. In retrospect that was an absurd thought for four days and five nights. We managed to get out to two nightclubs (Light and Hakkasan) and one day party (Daylight Beach Club, a Sunday perfected by DJ Franzen with R&B and Hip Hop only, no fist pumping allowed). In addition, we got to visit the Grand Canyon before any real debauchery was able to happen; we even got upgraded to second row status at the Beatles Love Cirque de Soleil show. Thus concluding that the vacation wasn't all play and we made our mother's proud by experiencing things other than hangovers and more alcohol.

I imagine the saying, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, originated not only because of the worst behaviour one may indulge in while visiting, but because half of the time we cannot remember what happened in Vegas. The days felt as though we lived a full twenty-four hours; did we sleep? The hours are a blur and the injuries on my feet are evidence that they were lived to the fullest. The one thing I can't ever forget is the one who I proposed to while walking through our hotel casino at three AM to our room; drunk off double vodka soda's and way too many butterflies in my stomach...