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hardfillytohalterbreak · 9 years ago

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Life without Facebook: Day 1

This social science experiment was NOT done by choice.

Would I *choose* to live in a Facebook free world? Likely not, because then I wouldn’t see cat videos, peoples changing relationship status’s, and puppies. And let’s face it, a world WITHOUT puppies isn’t one I’m interested in.

It would appear that Facebook doesn’t like my choice of name:

“Kathy EquiSportsTherapy”

Which is kind of funny when you think of it because more people know me as ‘EquiSportsTherapy’ then they do even as ‘Kathy’. Ask Brook Robertson, the first time we met it was in the basement of the Canadian Finals Rodeo near a bar and this beautiful bombshell of a woman yells “EQUISPORTSTHERAPY” and comes at me arms open for a hug. I don’t know this supermodel, but she knows my business name and I would like to be her friend.

You see, it’s hard for a pimp Butkovic out here. No one really knows how to say my name or spell it and most days I don’t even know how to say it or spell it.

I personally pronounce my name “BUTT-CO-VICK”

It’s a great name though. It’s Croatian, it comes from my Father who was an immigrant in this country. This is one of the many reasons why I’m an advocate for immigrants, because I come from one. And without immigrants in Canada, not only would YOU not be here, but I wouldn’t either. But back to my name...

Having the last name ‘Butkovic’ means I have an legit excuse for having a huge ass most days...genetically, it’s in my name. I put this in the win column. Ever since big butts came back in style I’ve been having a crisis that maybe my butt isn’t big enough? After spending the first part of my life thinking & being told it was far too big. Life is full of confusion.

So originally I didn’t want to be a “Kathy Butkovic” on Facebook because there are creeps on the interweb. I know...more than a few have sent me dick pics messages. But here is Facebook, forcing me to own up to my own self. Fine! I’m a real lady, I get it!

Why today though? Why all of a sudden?

I can’t help it has something to do with the fact that I was lucky enough to be included in my friend Christina Walkinshaw’s blog and she’s probably on a watch list or something? Jokes!

My friend Christina is a beautiful person who shares my love of nachos, men and the Double Down Saloon in Las Vegas. We met in Las Vegas at one of the funnest weddings I’ve ever been to, there we became fast friends and in the years since we’ve exchanged dirty jokes, stories and vacationed together like Thelma & Louise or two fabulous gay men, whichever.

DISCLAIMER: My friend Christina is an amazing comedian & writer from Toronto who is living in Los Angeles. Her blog is titled “My Week on Tinder (Tales of a Commitment-Phobe)”. I love the hilarious, badass women I know but it’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. Which is why I always put a NSFW (Not Safe For Work for those who need translation) disclaimer on certain posts.

The truth is, lots of us aren’t safe for work...that’s why I’m self employed. One of my biggest struggles as a self employed professional is being a professional. It’s a really human problem. What you say vs. what you would really like to say. That’s why I have the UTMOST respect for my friends like Christina, she’s badass, it’s her job! She writes, she’s human and she shares those very human experiences. Read: There is going to be sex in this blog.

I was originally to arrive to Las Vegas last week on the day that Christina was leaving. It was a sad story friends. Then, something awful happened to Christina which changed her plan and allowed for my inclusion into the adventure. I will let the title of her blog post explain: Christina, Vegas, and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Haircut

I landed in Las Vegas on a Tuesday. If you didn’t hear the story already, I got a killer deal on Gibsons Finest Whiskey at Duty Free on the way down, which happens to be MY FAVOURITE! My introduction to Las Vegas on a Tuesday went like this:

*gets into cab*

Cabbie: Where are you going?

Me: Flamingo please.

Cabbie: Okay.

Me: OH! Do you think on the way to the hotel we can stop somewhere to buy some Coke?

Cabbie: *stares blankly and intently in the rearview mirror at me* Uhhh...

Me: COCA COLA! I mean Coca Cola for my whiskey!

Oh. man. Hour one.

I found out that Christina was still in Vegas, so excited! I went down and met her at the Margaritaville bar in the Flamingo where we took this photo hiding her emotional haircut and planned our attack.

The rest is blog post history. If you’re into sass, lady problems and sex...read it, and if you’re not, just keep reading on right here.

For the record:

- I’ve been on a man sabbatical for months now with no Tinder* or dating**. I needed to clear some men from my life & focus on me for a while. I love when I tell people that and they say ‘I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone’ and that is because the button I don’t use on Facebook is my Relationship Status because those kinds of things are private to me.

*I added Tinder for 5 hours in Las Vegas while with Christina and was reminded why I don’t miss having Tinder at this moment

**Well a little dating but no online dating. I’m not dead jeez.

- I’m 35 years old with a killer rack blessed my boobs haven’t fallen yet so yes, there is men and stuff....generally those who hear my hijinx are: Courtney. My best friend Courtney knows everything about me, too much. That’s why we can never not be friends, we know each others secrets.

My hierarchy of sharing goes:

1) No one. There are things no one must know.

2) Courtney. She knows all except for things reserved for the number one spot.

3) My close circle of friends

4) Twitter

5) Select stories I might share with clients I’m close with

6) All of the interweb, forever, like in this blog post.

- I’m an expert at detecting wedding rings because I’m not interested in married men who are interested in single women. Keep your husbands, we don’t want them.

- Thank-you to Christina for shouting out how Arbonne is making me a babe, you can look at my Arbonne babe face & business here.

- I will ALWAYS be willing to be the story or excuse that a grown woman tells her parents so she can get lucky in Las Vegas.

Anyways, I miss you guys! I don’t know how long I’ll be over here in civilization without Facebook and let’s face it, we don’t even have each others numbers!

I sent in my name request with my photo ID to Facebook and now...I wait patiently and blog.

Yours in Adventure,

Kathy

ps. Please call or text. Send me cat stuff and relationship statuses and puppy photos.

#walkinsauce #tinder #facebook #whatsinaname #lasvegas

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tindventures · 9 years ago

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The beginning...

Well, hello to whoever is reading this.

To start off this blog, I’d like to state that I have been on multiple Tinder dates already. I just never thought to really write about it. Why? I’m a terrible writer. I mean, I have ALRIGHT punctuation and I can be a grammar snob at times (my friends never let me forget it). I’ve been recently inspired by Christina Walkinshaw (walkinsauce.tumblr.com a little plug in for her ;)) Her stories are FANTASTIC.

I’m hoping this blog will let the peeps of the interwebz know that you’re not alone in experiencing these sort of dates. Plus, I’m still trying to figure out if I WANT to be in a long term relationship. I like being single, but there are days where I miss the familiarity of a relationship. God knows that my track record of relationships haven’t been that great.

I don’t have any sort of end goal for this thing. Any suggestions would be helpful, kind birdies!

Let’s get started, shall we?

#Tinder #dating #online dating #walkinsauce

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internetrumbles · 9 years ago

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first dates

I like to think I'm pretty good at first dates, mostly because I prepare, prepare, prepare. And this from someone who up until a year ago had not dated anyone for eight years. If you prepare a first date, even of the date is a dud (to put it rudely) you can still have a good time. The first thing, especially if it's essentially a blind date which all dates met online are, is to choose a date where you can extricate yourself after one or two hours if necessary. Some people even suggest just 30 minutes for coffee or a drink but so far I've dated people who were as interested in me as I was in them, so I expected to at least fill an hour. You can prepare an excuse like having to go to a birthday party on the other side of town, so you can make a timely exit if need be. The second thing, if you are an average female like me, is to dress in a kind of woman-next-door type of style. So a modest but well-fitting dress, heels, and a natural hairstyle. Of course if you have a strong personal style go with that as it's always best to be yourself, but this is what works for me and guys seem to appreciate it. Finally the third thing is to prepare a number of small things you can do. This might be making a shortlist of cool and comfortable places to have a drink, an event or scenic location to wander around together, or even just a park bench to sit on and have a chat. By having a shortlist of place to go/things to do, if the conversation slows down you can suggest the next thing to do and keep the date moving in that way. Here are the first dates I've been on so far (all prepared by me, as apparently guys are unwilling to take on such a responsibility): 1. We met at Ikea (around the corner from his house) as I was looking for a hip flask as a gift and he said they had them. We had lunch there, couldn't find a hip flask, walked into town, went shopping and found a hip flask in a specialty store, then had some drinks on a terrace. I wore a blue and white sundress and lilac mary jane heels. After the date I went to a birthday party on the other side of town and gave the hip flask to the birthday girl :) 2. I wrote about my second first date at length before, but in short: We had dinner at an Indonesian restaurant (kind of broke the keep-the-date-brief rule here). Then we had a look at a new local architectural attraction, then we wandered across town to a specialty beer bar where we spent two hours chatting and ended the night making out. Still giving myself kudos for planning this awesome date, even though it didn't work out in the end. I wore a fitted black sweater, short black skater skirt, black tights and burgundy patent ankle boots. 3. I kind of went on this date just to get out of the house, so apologies to my date for "using" him to fill my time. He was terrible at picking a meeting point causing meeting-up confusion (major faux-pas), but then we went to get ice-cream which was my main goal. We walked around the picturesque city center and went to pick up his bike at the uni campus. Then I made him give me a lift to the station because my feet were tired. Oh, and we ran into friends of his too, which is always amusing. I wore khaki pants, a pink sweater and a trenchcoat (not really a date outfit I guess!). My excuse for leaving was that I was having dinner at my parents'. I have to give this guy some props for asking me afterwards how I though the date went and giving me the chance to tell him I wasn't interested in him romantically. 4. He forgot our meeting time but I forgave him when he profusely apologized and promised to come an hour later. I was so glad I had texted to confirm before I left the house! We met at a specialty beer cafe that I hadn't been to before, and sat at the bar and chatted for two hours. We didn't really have chemistry but he was very nice, very cute and smelled good. I wore a blue flowered dress and flats (too tired for heels). So dates 1-3 contained variety, which as you all know is the spice of life and in my opinion the spice of a good date. Date 4 was a run-of-the-mill drinks date which is ok but asks much more of your conversational chemistry. As dates 1, 2 and 4 all had quite nice follow-up dates I'd say my style of dating is working quite well, for the purpose of just meeting people and having fun. As to how to continue dating in terms of developing a relationship, I think that's down to finding the right person that will prepare just as well for you as you do for them. Shoutout to walkinsauce.tumblr.com for inspiring me to get back out there and showing that dating is about having fun!

#dating #first date #walkinsauce #tinder #what to wear

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resistingmarriage · 10 years ago

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Why Do Comics Quit Comedy?

There’s an 85% chance I’m too old to still be chasing my dreams. I’m 35, I’m still a server, and my pay in comedy varies from $500 to a drink ticket. It’s cool to be a loser in your 20’s, but in your 30’s? I’m not so sure…

In the grand scheme of things, being a bartender has proven to be far more lucrative than anything creative. But how can you express the wonders of a vibrator to a man reading the paper, trying to enjoy his Kilkenny and a French Onion Soup?

You just can’t.

I’ve recently started wondering why some people quit comedy. I’m sure we’ve all had our moments. There’s no occupation immune from the idea of an employee saying, “Fuck it. I’m out.” Not even your dream job. I feel like doing comedy is like going to the gym. Sometimes you dread going, but after you go, you feel sooooooooooooo good.

So why do people quit comedy? Some do, you know. The highs of being a comedian are incredible. Amazing. But the lows of being a comedian can be painfully tragic. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.

I started doing comedy a week before my 19th birthday. I was young, optimistic, and fearless. Pretty much the opposite of what I am now. I went on stage in heels, (well, they were platforms-it was the late 90’s) and wore see-through shirts. (But those shirts were only see through from the ribs down, cuz again, it was the late 90’s.) I had three minutes of solid comedy. (I thought I had five, but really, I had three.)

Back then, I honestly believed my comedy had everything to do with writing. I had no concept of all the other variables. I had stage presence, probably from acing so many oral book reports as a kid. But I never took into account other things. Like how long the nachos take… Is the server nice? Who do I have to follow? Why is the last Wednesday of every month smoke-free? (K, now you know I’m old.) In fact, back then, when I was a comedy virgin, I always thought it was the best to follow someone who killed. After all, didn’t he/she just warm up the crowd for you? Now for whatever reason, some comedians prefer to follow a stinker. Revive the crowd. (Hopefully.)

Back then, I admired so many comedians. Comics who don’t do comedy anymore. That’s crazy to me. I have heros who sort of gave up. Obviously my blog last week was emotional. Why am I in a business full of people I can’t trust? I know it’s not the money. And it’s not the fame, cuz I still work at Fionn MacCools. But young or old, I still have this fantasy of being a modern day Lucille Ball- Cute… imperfect… but it just works.

So I started creeping my retired comedian friends. A “Where Are They Now” show, but the Canadian Comedy Edition. The first person who came to mind, was the first comic I ever dated. (Ya, I’ve dated comics. They tell you not to, but you just can't help it.)

His name is Marcus Rummery. He was hilarious. When I first met him, I didn’t even know he was a comedian. There were ZERO open mics in Ottawa back then, so every amateur comic got two Wednesdays a month at the comedy club. He was always hanging out at the comedy club, even when he wasn’t on the show, so I just thought he was a groupy. Then one Wednesday, we were BOTH on the show. I discovered he was hilarious. I will still quote his jokes today, cuz they’re just that good. (The foreigners not grasping the enormity of Canada bit still kills. I’m laughing right now, and I’m typing at a Firkin by myself. They probably think I’m crazy.)

So I wrote him. What’s going on these days?!! And guess what? He teaches YOGA now. (Yeah, way to get flexible AFTER we break up.) I can definitely understand how yoga would be the most therapeutic comedy after life. I asked him why he doesn’t do comedy anymore. He said,

“I still do one show a year…”

Haha. That’s a show I’d go to.

Then I wrote one of my other fave comics from my first years doing comedy. Rob Cowley. Ya know him? Doubt it. We grew up in a pre-YouTube world. But I remember my mentality when I first did comedy. When I called the comedy club, I was advised to come watch a show, before I tried it. So I went down on a Wednesday. I made an agreement with myself that I didn’t expect to be funnier than everyone on the show. But if I thought I could be funnier than one person on the show, I’d try stand-up comedy.

Rob Cowley was not that person. He was my favourite. He had a joke about the giant check even my friends today still talk about. And now… he doesn’t do comedy. Why? He was great! So I found him on Facebook, as we do these days. I asked him why he doesn’t do comedy anymore. His response:

“I stopped mainly because of the community. I moved to Toronto early on. I really loved the Ottawa scene (where we started.) I was one of the first of our community to move to Toronto, and it was pretty lonely and soul destroying. I did the amateur nights at Yuks and did Spirits a few times (which was fun. I enjoyed it) But I just stopped… enjoying it. I also felt like the level of ego that came with the lower density of actual talent (compared to Ottawa) was hard to handle and just tiring.”

I get it. Often one’s confidence, trumps his material. I remember the first time I waited in line at the Laugh Factory in LA to do my first ever open mic there. I spent hours sitting against the wall, getting an intense sunburn, and listening to a dozen comics be "on" all day. They all seemed way funnier than me. But then we got on stage… yikes.

Rob went on to fret that he might not make sense, and feel free to use all of it, or none of it, which just verifies that he’s still a true comedian. Another interesting thing he said:

“I probably would have stayed in it longer, had I come later, when more of us were in Toronto…”

It’s a great point. You need friends in comedy. You need them on the outside, and you definitely need them on the inside. Nobody quite understands a comedian like another comedian. Rob moved before any of us had the balls to. I know other comics who moved to Toronto from Ottawa, and felt desolate while here too. All proof, that Toronto is Canadian New York! (With a slightly better bed bug record.)

I was at a show last night, trying out new material. I asked some other comics if they cared to sound off on the idea of quitting comedy. Kristeen Von Hagen said,

“I can suggest a few people who I’d like to quit comedy.”

Jeff Elliot said,

“Well, I see a lot of people quit writing comedy. But they keep doing it…

Yikes. That’s a good one. Some nights, I fear that’s me. Nothing embarrasses me more than going up in front of a room full of comics and doing old jokes. You have classics, that the crowd will for sure love, but the comics in the back of the room won’t respect you unless you take some chances. My peers are probably my biggest motivators.

Which brings me to Mark Forward. He’s a friend of mine, and he publicly quit comedy a few years ago. (Don’t worry. He’s back.) In an article the Toronto Star published he said,

“Lately for whatever reason- global warming, North Korea, or maybe it’s Justin Bieber- I have lost the love of performing. People don’t seem to show up to comedy clubs just wanting to laugh. They show up with a “make me laugh” attitude. Cellphones are left on. Texting is rampant in the front row, and done with an arrogance suggesting it is their right.”

Mark later goes on to say that he finds it hard to continue his routine with belching drunken men in the crowd, but I fear one of those belches might have been mine.

I think about quitting comedy all the time. It’s quite terrifying. If I didn’t start it so young, there’s no way I would take it up today. I’m too tender. I barely got my act together for an Aeroplan card. And as much as my boss at my restaurant job probably looks at my availability and thinks,

“Jesus Christ! Just QUIT already.”

I can’t. I'm too scared. It's my crutch. I'd love to take the "Leap of Faith," but I'm terrified. What if I fail? What if I have no money? Plus, I’m actually a great server. A lot of people curse the day job. I go there thinking,

“This is so much easier than comedy...”

(Except for the lady at table 22 who keeps complaining her steak isn’t well done enough. Who likes a well-done steak? And why do you constantly threaten to NEVER come back, but then ALWAYS come back?)

Plus, I really like everyone I work with. As much as they steal my pens, I do consider them family. (To be fair, I stay in a lot of hotels. I get more free pens than them.)

So while I always consider quitting comedy, I just can’t. I love it, even though it scares the shit out of me. Jen Grant always makes fun of me when I freak out before a TV taping. This is my dream. I should be enjoying the successes. Not fearing them. I guess if I wanted to have babies that would be an easy reason to quit, but I don't want to have facking babies! Comedy is my baby. (It cries a lot.)

K, I could babble on about comedy all day, so lemme wrap this up. (It's garbage day, and you know how excited I get for garbage day.)

My boss at the pub (industry legend, Greg Garson) told me this when I turned 30:

"In your 20's you're trying to figure out what you want to do in life.

By 30, you know.

By 40, you're doing it."

Guys. I still have time.

I think the key to this business might just be,

Keep going...

Using my fingers for things other than rings,

Walkinsauce

P.S. Do I need a bibliography for quoting Mark in the Star? Cuz I actually did go to university, and I facking hated bibliographies.

#Comedy #walkinsauce #standupcomedy #Toronto

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walkinsauce · 6 years ago

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Guys, me and my buddy have a new podcast called “Jillin’ Off.” Seems like I’ve been doing more Jillin’ off lately than dating BUT THAT IS GOING TO CHANGE! I think you’ll enjoy how honest we are:) https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/jillin-off-with-jen-murphy-and-christina-walkinshaw/id1449224012?mt=2

#podcast #JillinOff #Jilling Off #Tinder #Bumble #single #single women #Walkinsauce #Christina Walkinshaw #Jen Murphy #comedians #dating

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moonkillradio · 4 years ago

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Repost from @comedypopup Tonight!! @walkinsauce and @jenmurphycomedy are two of our favorite comics and people!! Come hang out! We are playing trivia murder party from 6-7 on the zoom so hit us up for the link and we will send that info to you!! ❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/CHO-wMWBdW1/?igshid=14koglvoizt8b

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joelbryant · 7 years ago

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Signing off after the final show in Southwest Asia with #YouWillLaughTour and @armedforcesent - been a heckuva run. 2 days to get back to the states and process it all. So blessed to have been asked to share a stage and a travel agenda w/ @drlaurahayden @langsworld2012 @jenmurphycomedy @walkinsauce & @mariahermancomedy - longer post to come later. Until then, as always, please #supportourtroops http://ift.tt/2sqrxSO

#Joel Bryant https://www.instagram.com/p/BfGtKG3Hreo/

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walkinsauce · 6 years ago

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Christina Walkinshaw’s Health & Wellmess Blog- Chapter 1: Veganuary

Well, I’m 40 now. I guess I have to start caring about my body. For the most part of my life, I have not cared about the following:

Mani’s/Pedi’s

Shaving/Waxing

Showering

Opening mail

Scented candles

Detox/Cleanses

Back up hard drives

Fashion/style

Oil changes

Flossing

Eyeliners over $4

Waze

Diets

Oh but I do recycle.

Do you know I’ve never lost weight in my life? My weight has been on a slow and steady incline in one direction my whole life- like the yodeler on “The Price is Right.” Up, up and away, like that sweet 5th Dimension song you’re probably too young to know. But now, as I enter a new decade of my life, I know for sure my metabolism is on it’s downward spiral. For the most part, I feel good. I’ve never been one of those super skinny chicks. The sick part is, I look back on photos of me when i was 40 pounds lighter and know I never even felt skinny back then, when I truly was. Weight and self-image can be a fucked up thing. Especially when you live in a town like this. (L.A., obviously. To be fair, I felt fat when I lived in Ottawa too.)

I’m not necessary trying to lose weight this year, I’m just trying to stop from gaining it. This is more of a preventative thing. I don’t even know how I’d track a weight loss blog. I don’t actually own a scale. When I was in my 20′s I lived with girls who owned that scale that said THINNER across the top of it and I’m still scarred. Who the fuck put that scale on the market? Cruel. The only place I consistently weigh myself is on Fremont Street in Vegas, at the Heart Attack Grill. (Hot tip: If you’re over 350lbs you eat for free!) The last I checked, I was 165lbs.

When people think of me, they think “happy hour” and not “personal trainer.” I’m not anybody’s “health & wellness” coach, that’s for sure. That being said, if I’m going to try to fix myself, I’m happy to take any delinquents like me along for the ride. Why are there no diets for people who drink and smoke marijuana? Seems a little rude if you ask me. My favourite gift is a bottle opener. I recently joined a wine club. I’m only JUST getting into Prosecco. I like beer, okay? (That line has been tarnished, I know.)

But every January, as the clock nears midnight on Dec. 31st, I get this overwhelming feeling that this year is going to be different. This year I’m going to be my personal best. I fantasize about changing for the better, and yet every February I’m right back to being the same IPA fart machine I’ve always been. This. Year. I. Will. Be. Better.

So I’ve started with…

Veganism.

Yup. There’s a whole thing right now called #Veganuary, and I’ve jumped on board. I’ve read a lot of Vegan propaganda in the past ten years. Eating Animals, Skinny Bitch, The Lean- they all have good points. I’ve tried being a vegan twice in my life. (The second time I referred to myself as a “stay at home vegan,” meaning I was only a vegan at home. I couldn’t deal with the social ramifications of being a picky eater.) Both times, I came back to my usual carny diet of chicken wings and first and foremost, cheese. Let’s see how I do this time…

I warned people at the end of December I was going to try a “plant based diet” for January. Somehow saying “plant based” seemed less jarring than “vegan.” Well, seems like nobody believed me.

I came home New Year’s Eve after my show (so technically it was January, but do we have to be nit-picky?) and decided I couldn’t let the last of the delicious Canadian Mastro’s Hot Calabrese go to waste. Or the blue cheese. Both cured meats and blue cheese are so much better in Canada. Plus I had a little wine after my show, and it would be detrimental to my health if I didn’t eat before bed, cuz everyone knows eating before bed stops you from getting hangovers.*

Plus, how am I supposed to become a vegan when there’s still salami lying around the house? Do sex addicts let their last condoms go to waste before they go to sex rehab or wherever? I highly doubt it.

I wake up, January 1st, feeling fresh thanks to my 2am lite supper. I’m ready for Veganism! Me, my parents, cousin and cousin’s daughter meet at the Cactus Club in Vancouver (k-Burnaby, but close enough) and I am excited to find all the V’s on the menu. I order the Crispy Tofu Bowl, with NO radish. (When I was in Kindergarten we had a vegetable garden and it made me barf my first ever ingested radish. I’m still not over it.)

I gotta say, it was delicious. I poured hot sauce over the whole thing obviously. My cousin is a vegetarian, but she has a side of fries, edamame and a Bellini. (So you know we’re related.) My meal is delish, and doesn't make me feel overly full like last week's lasagne did. Perhaps it's the tofu, or perhaps it's the Canadian portion.

I’m still making my holiday rounds in the mother country, so afterwards we hit up Grandma’s house. (I have a very busy social schedule, as you can tell.) I check Grandma’s Danish cookies in the round blue tin to see if they’re vegan. They have those controversial “MAY CONTAIN” ingredients which are really stressing me out. I eat one pretzel shaped cookie and call it quits.

Then off to my sister’s, for dinner. We’re supposed to order in, and I pray they don’t order without me, but of course they did. Pizza Hut. Four pizzas, all with cheese. To be fair, I don’t think anybody actually thought I’d stick to a diet. I never have. And I never turn down pizza, I just pick off the mushrooms. I decide to double down and order Thai. I love Thai food- coconut curries will literally get me through Veganuary. I know it.

Oh god is blogging about food boring? I was probs more exciting when I was blogging about my Tinder dates, but at least the food won’t get mad at me for blogging about it. (Except the maybe the mushrooms.)

I fly back to L.A. the next day. I know L.A. will be easy to pull of Veganuary. This place is full of picky diets. At the Vancouver airport I hit the Banh Mi place, which seems like the only vegan friendly joint past security. Of course they’re out of tofu. January! Fuck. Should I give up now? I can’t starve. And I can’t get drunk without eating lunch first and who can get on an airplane without a glass of wine?

Luckily I like to get to the airport 82 hours early, so I decide to wait for them to make more tofu. That’s right- I’m really doing this. Twenty-five minutes later I have my tofu Banh Mi (with hot sauce.)

I couldn’t be happier when I get home to my cute new L.A. pad. I open my fridge and of course, there’s not much in there after being away for two weeks. And you know what’s staring me right in the eye…

That’s right. My old pal, Trader Joe’s Calabrese salami.

Shit. That stuff lasts forever. (That should scare me.)

I close the fridge, and slowly give it thought…

“Well, I shouldn’t waste food. I could be a vegan starting January 3rd. No one’s watching me. I’m not even THAT out of shape…”

But then something miraculous happens. A thought so exciting it overpowers any craving for food.

“OMG my VIBRATOR! I haven’t jilled off in weeks!”

I def don’t take it home for the holidays, ya pervs. I get in my pajamas, crawl into bed and satisfy myself sans le food. Straight to single girl dessert. I don’t need salami after all.

And just like that, I wake up the next morning, still a vegan.

xoxo with fruits and veggies, your new vegan (for now)

walkinsauce

p.s. Not sure I can give up cheese forever. If I fall off this diet, I’ll just try another. I hear there’s more than one...

* None of my “theories” on health and diets are proven or approved by doctors. This is just me, and what I think I’ve figured out about my body specifically.

#veganuary #veganism #vegan #christina walkinshaw #diets #cactus club #health #wellness #January #self love #walkinsauce #just trying to write more

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walkinsauce · 7 years ago

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Becoming Poly- Chapter 14: My Turn

Sorry I didn’t blog last week. Do you know how hard it is to write about polyamory under the same roof as your parents? I was scared one of them was going to pop in and ask,

“Christina, why do you need that bottle of wine in your room?”

“Paper weight.”

So, ya, I’m sure hundreds of self help books would call that an “excuse” for not writing, but trust me: it felt TOO CREEPY. You try to write about sex while your parents are in the next room watching My Three Sons. See how you feel. I would, however, like to thank all my Tumblr readers for hitting the heart button on all my blogs. Quick shout outs to:

ilove-seductive-mature attractive-milf-girls hot-elder-chamber fat-milf-foxy-imgs bimbo-slutty-girlz fuck-sexy-fat-pussies fucking-amazing-fat-cunts jugs-nice-pictures

It’s good to know I’ve found my audience. Though I do wish you guys would put some capital letters in your names. You’re better than that.

I’ve calmed down from my boyfriend’s first “other sex” in our relationship. I’m pretty lucky that I have so many people reaching out to me, who are better versed in open relationships than I am. A particular comic friend in Florida always sums it up so well:

“Your primary is your home. These other people are the Disneylands and carnivals of the world. Fun day excursions, but you don’t want it every day.”

I think that’s my problem: Part of me would prefer to be the Disneyland. And good news for you, I’m way cheaper.

I still have a crush on the one guy I texted at O’Brien’s the day of my breakdown. I know he’s wary of the poly thing, and knowing my boyfriend, but I can’t help it. I’ve known him for years. I’ve had a crush on him for a year. I can’t help it if I’m a coward, and don’t know how to approach him. (Especially considering the circumstances.) Me sending him Snapchats that he’ll never open is enough of a rush for me.

It’s Friday night. I’m sitting at Ollo, as I often do during happy hour, wondering what I’m going to do when all the regulars go home at 8pm. It’s not a party city. We could use a Malibu’s Most Wanted reboot out here. But with the tiny bit of confidence I get from deep fried zucchini sticks and house wine, I decide to text my crush:

“Do you ever open Snapchat anymore, or am I sending things to an archive…?”

(With a smirky face emoji, obvi.)

He writes back minutes later.

“Hahahaha! I just watched the snaps! They made me laugh!”

It was at least a month’s worth of events, even capturing his own roommates. It must have been quite the montage.

“Thanks for sending them! I’m sorry I’m the worst. They were really funny. How long have you been sending them?”

Oh months. They’re my favorite seed I’ve ever planted.

“You might have just gotten something from me.”

I open Snapchat and see his name light up in full arrowed purple. I’m ridiculously excited for a girl my age. I’m starting to tune out the old man beside me bragging about how he gave Rosie O’Donnell her big break. That’s how you can tell I keep it real in this town- I’d much rather chase romance than my own career. (GOOD MOVE, EH?)

He writes again:

“I just finished a show in Hermosa Beach and I got to watch a lady heckle another comedian by saying, “we’re never going to be friends.”

Wow. The edginess of Hermosa Beach hecklers. What’s next? No tip? Shocking. I’m walking home, past people sleeping in their cars. At least my career is going better than theirs. But it’s a good reminder there’s no parking restrictions on PCH. Man, if any road needs some street cleaning…

It takes us another 18 texts to finally figure out we should meet up, but when he writes,

“I’d be down to meet up somewhere!”

I’m immediately wet. (It happens fast at my age.) He suggests the exact two bars in Santa Monica I was going to suggest. Power of the Leo and Sagittarius. (I probs just lost nine readers by referencing astrology.)

I get to Rick’s on Main Street slightly before him. I don’t have my real glasses on me, cuz I’ve been wearing my prescription sunglasses all day. Didn’t expect to be out past sunset, cuz that’s Malibu “night life.” So I’m going to be mildly blind all night. People always tell me,

“You should get laser eye surgery.”

Why the fuck would I do that? My glasses cover at least a dozen lines on my face. I’m thinking about getting a new pair, with thicker rims. I’m growing out bangs next. The date will be fine as long as I don’t send him into the kitchen when he asks where the bathroom is.

Now here’s the grey area…

Do I tell my bf right now that I’m going to meet this crush? I don’t know anything is going to happen. There’s a good chance we will just be two (ASTROLOGICAL PERFECT MATCHES) drinking buddies in a bar. Two comics, talking shop. Do we really need to set off the alarm before there’s a fire? As per my communication skills, I think def not. Like this blog, I will leave it till the last minute. (Typed at 3:13am, 4:45am after proofreading.)

I’m pretty sure I look like shit, but the good thing about somebody knowing me through comedy, is they always see me looking like shit. I’ve never been super comfortable looking “good” on stage. Maybe this comes from starting stand up 19 years ago, and always fearing women wouldn’t like me if I looked pretty. Most of the women in a comedy club are on dates, and I would literally get glares as they gripped their men. So early in my career, I started to wear hoodies on stage, and cover as much skin as possible. It was my passive aggressive way of saying,

“Don’t look at me. Listen to me.”

(Also, “I’m not here to steal your boyfriend. I’m here to make forty bucks.”)

This is another reason I love the rise of feminism: I pray it means the death of catty-ism. (An energy I sadly grew up with.)

So ya, back to the poly stuff: I’m on an impromptu date with my crush, my bf doesn’t really know, I look like shit, but can’t see that cuz I left my glasses at home. He walks in the bar and I’m almost in shock that we’re together. I think it’s been months since we’ve been in the same room together. And since when did I start going after things I want…?

I’m shockingly comfortable around him. That’s a plus about bonding with someone while you’re in a relationship. You don’t try as hard to sell yourself as when you’re single. You’re just you, and if they don’t like it, who cares? (I admire people who are like this all the time.)

He suggests we go to Chez Jay next. Ooooooooh, I love a new bar. Never been. So excited. Even more excited that he’s ditched his car, and will get it in the morning. I love a man who drinks responsibly. (Is this how I book a MADD commercial, or do I still need to have babies?)

Chez Jay is great. I like having bars like this on my radar. The conversation is going steady, tho I’m praying my primary and polyamory doesn’t come up. I just want to enjoy this night, as it is. The same way I did as a single person. I really don’t want to dive into the politics of it all. I think I’m more terrified that talking about it will scare him away…

When Chez Jay closes, he asks me if I wanna come over for some porch beers.

Yup. You know I do.

Again… is this the moment I text my bf and let him know I’m going over to a guy’s house? I mean technically, there’s a good chance nothing will happen. Seems too soon to ring the alarm. And if there’s one expression comedians know, it’s “too soon.”

He gets us an Uber/Lyft, whichever- most cars in town have both stickers. When we get to his house, I hit the bathroom. Every girl’s most investigative move in a dude’s house. Is his hand towel also his bath towel? Is this a one towel wonder situation? Does he own toilet paper? I don’t make it that far, because I’ve sprayed surprise period all over my undies. (If those Tumblr names didn’t scare you away, this surely will, eh?)

I search the cupboards for anything remotely handy in this moment. There’s nothing. Maybe I should hit the kitchen, and look for coffee filters. Those should work, right?

Nah, I’ll just do the ol’ “tie toilet paper around my underwear” move. It’s the move you do when you first get your period, in case you don’t know. (I FEEL SO YOUNG AGAIN! MAYBE I DON’T NEED BANGS!)

Porch beers are the best. I’m a fan of his roommates. We’re all having a great time, but then…

Something more unexpected than my bloody kitty happens. This beautiful, young blonde chick walks up to the porch.

“Hey, I live across the street. All my friends went to sleep, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.”

Holy. Mother. Trucker. It’s 3:00am. This isn’t the moment I was expecting competition…

But here we are.

The guys grab her a beer. Now again, I am not into “catty-ism.” BUT- I am a share holder of “insecurity-ism.” And if I were any one of these guys on this porch, I would def hit on this chick instead of me. She’s legit extremely cool. There’s a part of me that wonders if this is fate’s little way of saying,

You’re not ready to pop your poly cherry yet.

I never rang the alarm. I can still get out of this… innocently?

Either way, I think she might be might be my personal savior (another word I spell wrong cuz I’m Canadian and think there’s a “u” in it.)

“Do you have a tampon?”

“Of course! Come on over!”

She takes me over to her apartment, and literally gives me all her pads cuz she doesn’t use them. Bonus. My favourite sleep aid. I fucking love this girl.

We head back over to the boys, and I know I’m drunk, bleeding and tired. I ask my crush if there’s a place I can crash. He escorts me to his roommate’s room, and tucks me in. (Don’t worry- the roommate wasn’t there. That would have been the real poly, eh?)

As I fall asleep, like a loser at a slumber party who goes to bed first, I can’t help but think,

“He’s a great guy. She’s a great girl. If they hook up, I’m fine with it.”

PRACTICE COMPERSION! Why is compersion so much easier when you’re not dating someone? I fall asleep/pass out- which ever you like to believe at this hour. In the morning, I wake up in a super funny comedian’s bed. Alone. I make the bed, as a sure fire way to say “a chick was here” and text my crush.

“Oh I wanna say bye, but I don’t know what room is yours.”

I can’t just knock on random doors… Plus he might not be alone. I def don’t want to interrupt kinky times with the pad donor. All of a sudden, one of the roommates pops out of his room. I ask him which room is _______’s and he shows me. In this moment, I know I’m risking becoming a piece of gossip my boyfriend might hear…

And not through me…

I lightly knock on the door. When I hear a groggy “come in” I open the door.

There’s NO hot, cool, tampon savior chick in his bed. He’s just sleeping, post drinking style, alone.

“Oh, I just wanted to say goodbye…”

And then, without saying another word, I crawl into bed with him.

#polyamory #poly #relationships #ollo #malibu #snapchat #comedians #comedians who date #Chez Jay #Santa Monica #Too Soon #MADD #polyam positivity #polyamourous #polyamorous #christina Walkinshaw #walkinsauce

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