Author: Kailey Klempner

Kailey is a Communications graduate working in the media industry in Ottawa, Ontario. She is a lover of Mindy Kuling, Krysten Ritter, Kat Dennings, and Zooey Deschanel.

The time I had a Taylor Swift moment with a, “Love Fern”

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been a sucker for romantic gestures.

When I was in University, I met Andrew. Andrew stood 6’3, with sandy brown hair, and a charming smile. His love of snowboarding, photography, and music was so intriguing. Not only that, Andrew was very intelligent. He was a successful entrepreneur, full of ideas and passion. He attended the University of Waterloo, the University down the road from mine.

The first time I met Andrew, he informed me that he was leaving for China for a month. Instead of asking for my phone number, he asked for my email address. My email address! Andrew emailed me every single day. I felt as though I was exploring the city with him. Every email was written with care, and had a photo he’d taken associated with it. A virtual postcard. I couldn’t help but think, what kind of guy emails a girl he met once, every single day.


Eventually, Andrew came back to Waterloo. He told me that he had a surprise for me. Somehow – don’t ask me the regulations on this because I honestly don’t know and I promise you my roommates were just as concerned as you are feeling while reading this – he smuggled me a plant from China.


The plant became a bit of a joke amongst my housemates. If you’ve ever watched How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, you’ve heard of the love fern. We aptly named Andrew’s strawberry plant my love fern. In the movie, Kate Hudson pretended that the plant represented her and Matthew McConaughey’s relationship. Matthew let the plant die. When Kate Hudson discovered that the love fern was no more, she unleashed her inner crazy.


One day, I asked Andrew if he wanted to hangout, and he unfortunately was too busy studying. I had a major crush on him, so naturally as I was Netflix and chilling by myself, I started browsing the photos on his Facebook page. Upon looking at his Facebook profile, I noticed that someone had tagged him in their status.

The status read, “When your amazing boyfriend comes all the way to Toronto to surprise you on a weeknight!”


What the hell? Right?! I know. I was there.

The lying sack of whatever was not studying math, he was studying the anatomy of his Toronto girlfriend.

I could not believe this. I’d been lied to, manipulated, and humiliated.


I smashed the hell out of the love fern. It felt incredible. The dirt scattered across the sidewalk.

Naturally, I ended things with Andrew.

When I walked to class the next day I couldn’t help but smile at the ruptured dirt and decapitated plant at my feet.


It’s been at least 4-6 years since the epic love fern incident. I’ve met many more Andrews. In this case, I use Andrew as a metaphor for a deceitful person, who pretends to be someone that they’re not. The Andrews have opened car doors, they’ve driven out of the way to rescue me from car accidents, they’ve come on to my friends. Sometimes, despite my gut feeling that I’ve met another Andrew, I let the romantic gestures take the driver’s seat, and lead me down the fucking grand canyon.

Sometimes your gut tells you that someone is the devil incarnate, yet you like to live in La La Land: Where they open car doors, they tell you that you look wonderful tonight, they ask you if you’re too cold, and they make you a grilled cheese at 2 am. The perfect grilled cheese can make you overlook the blatantly obvious code red comments about how sexy your friend is.


Every time I get, “Andrewed,” I smash a symbolic love fern. In this case, I’m smashing a jar of pickled onions.







20 Things Nobody Talks About On Halloween

I have concerns.

  1. How did I get face paint in the crevice of my armpit? Nobody knows.
  2. How in the world, am I going to pee in a giant pacman costume made of roughly, oh,  30 pizza

    Curated list of most complex Halloween costumes to pee in

    A 1920’s flapper costume.

    ANYTHING that has sequins or beads dangling is gonna be a bit o’ an issue. Where do those beads go? You don’t want to know.


    Any costume that involved artistic capabilities. For instance, I saw a homemade Lumiere and Clogsworth last year… I’m very interested to see when that, “Oh shit,” moment happened to the wooden clock. Was it in line at the bathroom? Alone in the stall trying to manoeuvre around its pendulum?


  3. Why is everything dirty? I mean e v e r y t h i n g. There’s feathers in the carpet. There’s a sticky substance on the dog. Eyelash glue is sticking to your credit cards. You have a lipstick LID, no lipstick.


  4. I really wish my makeup brushes didn’t get so well acquainted with that, “fake” dirt. Now drop the word “fake” Halloween incorporated, this shit is very real. My apartment had so much damage from the fake dirt from Halloween 2016, that I actually had to move.


  5. I don’t know if I’m a skeleton or a zombie but I DO know that this is not washing off for at least two showers.


  6. Why did I put glue in my eye?


  7. 12:01 AM: “…Yes but when do we eat pizza?”


  8. Why did I give my number to one of the diggers from Recess? Not even TJ Detweiler… some goddamn side plot character. Better question, why hasn’t the digger from Recess texted me?


  9. Did I miss some mandatory, “girl code” lesson where we learned how to turn our faces into freakin’ starry night on Halloween?


  10. How the fuck did she make that. Honestly. She’s probably looking at me like, “oh you’re a deer? That’s cute. I’m the entire table of the Last Supper with appetizers AND dessert.”


  11. Wings are never a good idea.


    Help me I’m stuck.

  12. If one more person asks me what my costume is I’m going to tear two holes for eyes in Melissa’s Egyptian cotton sheets. Did all males at this party sleep through history class? I’m a flapper from the 1920’s!


    Man at party: “Haha… does that mean you fly?”


    “… How do you not fall down more?”

    Man at party: “Haha no for real, what is that?”

    “… Badass chicks from the 1920s era.. drank during prohibition, did the Charleston…”

    **Proceeds to do the Charleston**


    Man at party: “Yo, I think that’s the twist.”


    “… Chicago. Gangsters in New York. Anything.”

    Man at party: “Yeah I don’t really watch movies…”

    “… Do you open books?”

  13. If someone shows up to the party in the same costume as you, you automatically go into, “take down this imposter” mode. You ask your nearby confidants for reassurance that you did, in fact, pull it off better. As my roommate stated when she found out that there was another, “Wilma” from Scooby Doo at the party, “Wilma’s going down”.


  14. Do I want to be sweaty or freezing this year? There is no in-between.


  15. Halloween night, “dead person”. The next morning trying to scrub the white face paint off,  “recovering cocaine addict”.


    Get it off. Get it off now.

  16. “Oh. Well we found Nemo and he’s sexier than I remembered”.


  17. If your outfit needs to be, “refrigerated” (looking at you Ms. vegetable garden)  intermittently between wears, you are way more experienced and committed to Halloween than I.


  18. Don’t forget to get up early the day after Halloween to sit on the porch and watch the lone, “blind mouse” stumble home.


  19. When you half-assed your costume and everyone is forcing you to document it for all of eternity by requesting constant pictures. Just embrace it.


  20. You tell yourself that next year, you’re going to plan your costume in advance so that you don’t look like a total idiot, again. Like a New Year’s resolution, you never follow through.


    Each year, it’s a meltdown in the final hour. This causes you to do something super generic with items you already own (looking at you Wednesday Adams, and salt n pepper shakers).


    Until next year, salt shaker out.


The Stranger’s Highlight Reel: Phds & Professional Hockey Players

This past weekend my girlfriend and I stole laughs from strangers amongst crowded bars and listened to their, “highlight reel”. We determined that each of us, ourselves included, has a, “highlight reel” that we share with new people. These highlight reels provided us with quick feelings of infatuation.


Over the weekend some of their highlight reels included, “professional hockey player”,


“Living alone in Ohio”.


“Born in Vancouver, living in Florida. I have a Phd from Australia”.


We engross ourselves in tales from strangers of their drug lord uncle who was finally busted.


Did he put up a fight?

The guy that is the CEO of his own successful company he started when he was only 15 years old.

The guy who looks after his struggling brother in their penthouse apartment.


The underdog who worked his way to the top.

The guy that’s already been married and divorced at 28 years old.

The guy that wants to change people’s lives for the better.

The guy that teaches little kids their first instrument.


The guy that plants trees and studies soils and streams.

The guy that was once homeless. 

The guy that wants to go to school in Ireland.

The guy that did go to school in Ireland, with the love of his life.


Maybe there aren’t enough chick flicks on Netflix, because there’s nothing I love more than dissecting a stranger’s broken heart. It’s addictive. I don’t want to hear about your favourite colour, I want to know about the joy you felt playing in the mud, catching frogs at 6 years old and how freaked out you were the first time you squeezed that frog too hard.


So we danced with maracas & sombreros and made strong, “you’re my human, I pick you” eye contact across the bar. We then celebrated those choices with tequila. Lots of tequila.

Tequila makes the highlight reels more interesting.

They’ll tell you about their father who had a heart attack, or their Grandma that won the lottery.

Strangers never cease to surprise me.

An NHL hockey player (something I only found out from google) grabbed my guitar over my body parts (impressive right) and played me the intro to fiddler’s green.


He came to say bye to me on Sunday, and I hugged him with the, “see you never stranger” quote. He answered with, “You said that two nights ago, yet here I am”.

He shut the door and I watched through the glass as he retreated into the expensive car that he never bragged/told me about. I couldn’t help but look out the window again and see if he still sat in the car under the tree in front of my house, which he did. I felt relieved.

My curiosity had me checking again, and the spot where his car was lay empty… and it made me sad. As quickly as these strangers with their highlight reel come into your life, they disappear. You feel like a piece of you goes with them. The laughs and stories you shared are now driving off to another country… and you’re alone on the floor of your bedroom in front of the heater with a dark cellphone and a warm tea.


Then you start reminiscing of these moments of hysterical laughter that you’ve shared with pilots, dentists, musicians, actors, environmentalists, salesmen, and athletes.

The 6’3 boyfriend that fell even more in love with you when he was kicked out of the party and you chose to freeze your ass off together with sweaters for blankets in the backseat of a tiny Volkswagen. A sleep so uncomfortable that you woke up at 5 AM outside of the nearby barn soaking wet from the dewey grass.

The guy that said he’d like to marry you someday at the top of the ferris wheel.

The fire in his eyes when he explained how he started his own business.

The dead pan gaze and averted eyes when he told you what happened to his father.

These moments that humanize us. The passionate people that ignite a drive within ourselves that we didn’t even know existed.

Thank you for coming into my life, if only for a moment.

Surely That’s The Moment You Made Your Exit From This Awkward First Date. Incorrect.

“I don’t like you, but my bro does, here’s his number”Boring (and kind of rude) Bro

“I can’t stop touching my hair because you make me nervous”McDreamy Bro

I like writing about dating because it’s quirky, fun, and uncomfortable. My stories make my friends in relationships hug their guy a little tighter that day, and make my single friends join in with,


Everyone takes different paths when it comes to dating. Some people date one guy from high school, and end up together. Some people go on 30 first dates in a year (what? who? me? no?).


… So I have gathered a LITTLE, “awkward dating” material.

If the idea of going on a first date makes me feel uncomfortable, I like to force myself to go regardless. It’s a good way to grow your confidence, and sense of humour.

Anyone that knows me, knows that I am a sucker for a bro in a navy suit, with brown leather shoes. I associate this outfit with passion, intellect, success, chivalry, and overall charming-ness. Before I left for Ottawa, I told my girlfriend/coworker/person that I miss dearly that if anyone needed me I could be found on parliament hill drooling over the men in the navy suits.

So, when bro in the navy suit asked me to meet him (and his friend?!) for a Saturday afternoon drink, I said yes (YES even though he said he was going to be with another bro). The suit blinded my judgement.


This is how it went down.

I entered the restaurant from stage left, bro and bro’s bud were on stage right. Bros were sitting opposite from each other. So, in my entering panic, I took the closest seat, next to Bro Third Wheeling Our Date. 

WELL, bro I was on said, “date” (if you can even call it that) with, was unimpressed with my choice, and made me move to the seat next to him (Ok? It’s been 5 seconds and you’re already telling me I did something wrong).

We all make our introductions. The bros are all dressed up because they were at the wine & cheese show (an event that he had asked me to be his date at, to which I had refused). I am now thanking my lucky stars that I had declined this invite, as you could cut the tension with a twinkee (you don’t even need a butter knife).

I’ve been there 3 minutes, and I can already tell this is not going to go well. While I’m considering my exit options, his friend fixes the tension by talking about the Red Hot Chilli Peppers (nice move Third Wheel Bro, everyone loves the RHCP, this SURELY will get all of us talking).


Navy Suit Bro, doesn’t like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers.


Not only that, he goes on to tell us that he doesn’t actually like music at all.


Not rap, not country, not jazz, not classical, NOT top 40. No music. Ever.

Now, because I have a sick way of deliberately making an awkward situation worse by addressing the GIANT FUCKING ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM, I use this moment to segway into,

“… Soooooo I work in the music industry” – Gives No Fucks Girl.


Laughter ensues from Third Wheel Bro. Navy Suit Bro does not crack a smile.

As you’re reading this, you’re probably thinking, surely this is the moment that you made your exit.



I didn’t want to be RUDE to the man who demanded I spit my gum out (and held a napkin up to my face until I obliged).

IDIOT (me).


I was able to stay because his bro was actually pretty witty, and made the awkwardness bearable.

We decided to play a game (the name of it is escaping me, but you slide a thing on a board with some pucks and salt and you casually let the guy win every time because you’re non-competitive like that).


Navy suit guy (bro sorry) did NOT enjoy how well Third Wheel Bro and I were getting along. I wasn’t interested in him, he was just a truly decent human being.

Navy Suit Bro whose name we are now going to change to Boring (and kind of rude) bro decides to pull a Houdini on us and motherfuckin’ disappear, WITH his jacket. So I’m sitting there, pointing out the obvious,

“He took his jacket, maybe the bathroom is chilly”.

“Haha maybe” – Third Wheel Bro


“He’s not a smoker is he?”

“Ummm.. nope haha.” – Third Wheel Bro


“WELL THEN, I suppose I will just leave?”

“If you want… this doesn’t seem to be going well.” – Third Wheel Bro



**starts putting jacket on**

Of course, this is the PERFECT moment for Houdini to reappear, as I’m getting ready to bail without so much as a goodbye.

“Oh you leaving?” – Houdini Boy Who Can’t Hide The Lack of Disappointment On His Face

“Yeah uh, nice meeting you, bye”

**Does the awkward hug**

… I am not 2 minutes out the door, when my phone buzzes.

“I don’t like you, but my bro does, here’s his number, 416-go-live-happily-ever-after-and-die” (so I altered the last few digits a bit).

At this point… I’m offended and feeling complimented all at the same time. I see no future with Third Wheel Bro, but I have the urge to text him merely to say,

“… Seriously guys? What the FUCK just happened”.

I believe I read the text on my walk home, and loudly pronounced,


Birds flew out of the trees (no they didn’t but that would have been cool. Mostly I made a homeless man jump).

Fast forward three months or so later, to this past Friday night. WHO DO I SEE, but motherfuckin’ Houdini (in said Navy Suit – is that all he owns?).

Oh it gets better.


He isn’t alone.


I know, I was there!

Not only that, she is basically having sex with him in front of all of us. It looked like the Nicki Minaj anaconda video.


I couldn’t look away.

She could get LOW.

He was absolutely loving it.

I was shoving all of my friends in front of me while I curiously peered around their body to watch this car crash unfold.


“Is this real life?!”

Yes it was, my friend’s guy friend on crutches was also across the room motor boating a stranger’s tits.


This was very real.

I ate a poutine the size of my head and tried to forget what I saw.

All was well in the world again.


… for the most part.

– Kails






21 One-Sided Conversations You Have With Yourself On A Daily Basis

  1. No you can’t afford that. Put it down. It’s gimmicky and stupid and they’re making you pay extra because it’s fun. Don’t let advertising win.
    *Walks out of Shopper’s Drug Mart with the “Frozen” themed Elsa band-aids*



2. When your visa is all racked up and they suggest you make the minimum payment:

“New number who dis”


3. *Driving*

Shit, I almost fucking died.


Wow, thank you universe for saving me.. I clearly am meant for bigger and better things. Just for that, I will be a better person… for like, an hour.

4. *Uber 1 of the Night – 8:00 PM* 

Me – “Hello sir how is your night going?”

*Uber 2 of the Night – 10:00 PM*

Me – “YAAAAS this is my radio station TURN IT UP.”

*Uber 3 of the Nighter – 2:04 AM*

*Sobbing* “… And then I moved to this new city *sniffs* and I don’t know annnnnnyone and now I’m living with two strangers from kijiji and I don’t have ANY money OR FRIENDS and-oh this is my house, yes out front’s fine. BYE! THANK YOU!”

Next morning

 “… I gotta stop telling my life story and hopes and dreams to the damn uber drivers. ”

5.  *Monday*

Me – “Buy yourself a coffee you deserve it. Start your week right.”


Me – “You’re a bit tired today, buy yourself a coffee and you’ll perk right up.”


Me – *sighs* Need I say it?



6. My phone never goes off, why does no one in the universe love me?


*Phone buzzes*

“Ew how dare someone disturb me”


7. *Singing in the car*


“Oh damn. I am good at this.”


“Columbia Records – watch out. Now do I want X-Tina or the dude from Maroon 5 as my coach?”

8. “Why does everyone want to buy their coffee right now?”

“Why does everyone want to buy their groceries right now?”

“Why does everyone else want to watch the game here?”

“Why is everyone using their internet right now?”

“Why is everyone else calling Bell right now.”


9. “Why is that baby crying? I am never having kids”


*Family with a cute baby walks by* 



10. *Pouring Cream Into Coffee*

“…Little more. Yuuuuup little more. Yup. Yup that is, officially too much.”


11. “…Huh. Since when am I attracted to guys still in University AND hot dads. Oh, he spoke, never-mind.”


12. “Why am I sexually frustrated by my Prime Minister?”


13. “Nickelback IS alright.. fuck it.. I’m not afraid to say it. Don’t care who knows it.”


14. “Am even a registered adult?”


15. “It’s just one bowl of pasta no you won’t get fat from it.”

“Add some cheese.”


*Repeats every day of the week*


16. “One day when I have my millions, I am going to buy 5 of those ____(sweaters/sunglasses/jackets/puppies)____ in every colour!”


17. “When are we going to have Fridays off permanently? Is this even on the table for legislators? Do they not realize we have to book a vacation day to get those Doctor, Dentist, Banking–ANYTHING that requires an appointment really—visits taken care of. So what do you do? YOU DON’T GO.”


18.”Why do I have to choose between dinner or going to the gym? Why do we live like this?! We should take a lesson from the dogs. They seem to have that figured out. They have a permanent servant who looks after their every whim, and you better believe they’re not rushing off anywhere unless it’s towards the XL bag of ruffles that’s being cracked open in the next room.”


“In my next life, I want to be Oprah–NO Beyonce’s dog.”



19. “Utterly shocked that I haven’t been discovered yet for __(insert talent that I don’t have here)__. Just kidding, this was all for fun to teach you humbleness, you’re really Jay Z’s daughter that he put up for adoption.”


“Kailey you’re white.”


20. “I will honestly be in this same position for the rest of my life. Career advancement – LAWL you need to be bilingual, have 5 years experience as a Navy Seal, have worked as an intern for free for 3 years at a top PR firm while Daddy paid for your new Steve Mads and gluten-free pasta.”


21. “If I think about the shape I want to be in hard enough… my body will probably just figure it out.”



My Volcano Is Better Than Yours: Advice From The 6th Prettiest

I’ve always wanted to be the best at something. I believe there’s a competitive nature in all of us that was inbred from minuscule rituals of, “My volcano is better than yours”.

My volcano was a papier-mâché mask that looked more like a slice of pizza than an art project. The colour composition of my mask was, COMBINE ALL THE COLOURS (red, yellow, green). I learned that combining all of the colours creates brown. My brown pizza mask didn’t make me feel like a fairy princess like the other girls’ masks, nor did it fulfill my craving to be the best.


I did not like art class, I did not like art class at all.

As I grew older, I learned from the girls at school that the boys had conducted a poll, and I was 6th prettiest in our grade. Well I didn’t like that at all either. What the hell was 6th prettiest going to get me in life? Not a date that’s for sure.


I was also the second tallest girl in my grade, which actually meant a little bit more than, “standing in the back of the school pictures with all of the boys and feeling like an ogre”.


I had been conditioned to feel bad about my awkward lankiness. Along with long legs came big feet and big hands. Big hands were not, “cute” to the other boys. I desired freakishly small hands and short stubby legs more than anything. Well, that and a pair of boobs would be nice. Training bras in the gym change room was getting a TAD embarrassing.


Well, turns out, my ogre legs helped to make me pretty damn good at running… and also… high jump, long jump, triple jump.


Turns out my long legs got me first place ribbons in the 100, 200, and best of all, a ticket to “Area 5”, where I could compete for our school.

I liked this. I liked this a lot.

Here’s the thing about success, you’re also going to have to overcome some setbacks. I questioned running backwards into a pole and trying to land on a mat as opposed to the concrete surrounding it. The possibility of injury led me to question my own skills, and the inevitable happened. I flinched and I landed on top of the pole, which is pretty fucking painful let me tell you. It hurt so badly, that I did not want to try to succeed again. I wanted to quit.


If you think this is going to be the, “get back on the horse” sort of stories, sorry to let you down. I quit high jump and never looked back.

However, I did learn that when you do not have confidence in your own skills, you will inevitably experience failure.

So, I still had the running thing going.

In high school, I applied my running skills to the rugby team. Rugby improved my self worth. I’d come to school with bruises all over my legs in my daisy dukes. There were girls who told me that they would never be able to live with bruises all over their legs all summer long. There were boys that told me only lesbians played rugby (and basically that I was a freak).

A part of me knew that it didn’t always matter what other people thought of me. I felt like there was something special about me and I was going to keep chasing successes (typical gen Y attitude right).

The 6th prettiest girl was going to be a somebody to herself, not to others.


I found working hard to be incredibly rewarding.

I became comfortable with being alone, and consequently lonely.

I set my sights on being the best at something new.

I wanted to take the easy route, go to a mediocre school and take a program I was not interested in just to do the motions. I wanted to go out with my boyfriend of the moment rather than study for tomorrow’s math exam. Instead, I disciplined myself and had my pick of all of the Universities that I applied to. I wanted to stay back for an extra year of 12 B with all of my friends, however my family convinced me that I was ready for bigger things.


The 6th prettiest girl found new competition grounds.

I fucked off for the first two years. I wanted to party with friends. I managed to go out 4 days a week and still make the grades.

Eventually, my priorities shifted. I liked getting A’s on my papers. I liked impressing my teachers. I liked doing my readings and learning new skills.

I liked sitting in the front of the class and knowing the answers to the teachers’ questions, while others showed up in sweatpants and struggled to stay awake (don’t get me wrong there were days I was that girl also).


I would put in WORK at the library. I will never forget studying until 1 AM in my residence common room for my first year Business exam on the freakin’ Saturday of Hallo-freakin-ween weekend. I yearned to be out drinking with my troll doll floor mates and the man in the banana costume.


I missed out on some things along the way. But, I had learned when I worked hard, my anxiety was lessened, and things started working out rather nicely for me.

I still wanted to have the best damn Volcano anyone had every seen. A Volcano so explosive that it was considered a weapon.


This meant that when I couldn’t find a job immediately after University, I made the best damn oreo frappucinos anyone had EVER SEEN.


Working hard at even the silliest of endeavours (you want a latte fredo? WTF is that man c’mon it’s my FIRST day) eliminated that fear of cracking my head open on some concrete.

The 6th prettiest girl now has a pretty kickass career that brought her away from her family and friends to our country’s capital.

The 6th prettiest girl faces one of her fears every single day: art. Graphic design is not where Ms. pizza face mask would have predicted she would end up.

Working hard now is not an option. Working hard is maintaining happiness. All of my eggs are in one basket. Which is why I am currently sitting alone on a Starbucks patio writing this blog, watching all of the happy couples eat gelato together.


I’m definitely not the best at everything.


But when I work hard, I find everything somehow finds it’s place.


Ok, well that’s not entirely true. There’s still people that will rate you as the 6th prettiest, and make you feel like you will never be good enough.

One of my deepest fears is to be deemed irrelevant, inadequate, and replaceable.

My whole life, I will try my hardest to be nice to the people who tell me the bruises on my legs are disgusting.

As my old sales manager always told me, “It’s none of my business what other people think of me”.


I try not to question myself as often.


The volcano might not always erupt.

I may be alone in a strange city kicking the volcano for letting me down.

I may actually believe that I can use Tinder as a means of making friends. I may actually think that asking someone, “hey wanna be my friend” comes across as honest as opposed to pathetic.

However, eventually, someone is going to look at the rows of pink and purple papier-mâché fairy masks, and decide that there’s something a bit better about the vomit coloured pizza mask.


Wish me luck.

– Kail

Technology Has Ruined Dating For Us: How To Stay Interesting In An Era of The Same Snapchat Stories

Flirting has become a convenience rather than an exciting challenge. I wasn’t lucky enough to be apart of the days where you “ran into someone” when you ran into them. Everything seems to be pre-planned.


Thankfully, I did experience the anxiety of looking up your crush’s house number in the phone book, and calling them without warning. Now, it seems to be an expectation that there is a text when you leave the house, “Leaving now”, followed by an, “I’m here”. Which, if unanswered, causes great alarm that you almost feel you need to turn back until your text message is acknowledged that yes, you can come over.


In fact, the amount of communication that we have available to us leaves us incredibly disappointed when someone does not bother to utilize any of these choices to get in touch with you…


There’s something about technology that has altogether destroyed any interest I have had in getting to know anyone.

You can almost tell it’s the same way for the opposite sex..

GIRL: “Hey what’s up”

30 minutes later

GUY: “Hey.. wanna chill”

GIRL: “I’m doing laundry not really”

GUY: “Yeah. Me neither.”

Yeah.. same.


We have another stranger that will be “snap chatting us”, favouriting our tweets, liking our photos, creeping our instagram, swiping right on tinder, fb messaging us, tagging us in funny photos…

We’re all duplicating one another. You check in to 30 of your friends snap chat stories each and every day.

There’s so much going on ALL of the time, that when it all comes to a halt.. you either feel completely alone.. or there’s an actual tinge of relief.. relief that you are no longer “connected”.


It feels so much nicer to leave your phone in another area. Sometimes I purposely misplace it in my bed, or leave it on the charger in the next room. This way I am not tempted to triple check 6 different apps for notifications. It’s absolutely toxic.

It’s great to be busy driving or working…  you can spend an entire day away from your phone!

It saves you from becoming obsessive over someone you hardly liked in the first place…

For instance:


What the fuck dude. I thought I was, “incredible” and “interesting”.


You turn to your girlfriends. They don’t know. You turn to other guys to ask if you were TOOO stage 5. Or maybe you’re TOOO girl next door.


How can you possibly move on from me? I was cracking you up. I’m freakin adorable.


It’s the polite thing to do? That’s it.




30 minutes later


Well, WE’RE through.

I will stick to stalking your Facebook and imagining you with girls that are much prettier than me with the brains of a goldfish.


Eventually, maybe they reach out to you again. Realistically you want to respond with:


But you know you’re much better off with a more realistic, “screw you” attitude.


Nooo. Some nerve buddy boy.

I wonder what it was…


Yes. That’s it. Yup.


followed by something more like:



It’s exhausting wasting your good jokes on someone who was going to turn his head at the next pair of legs that walked by anyway..?


This is why I am an advocate of waking up early, putting on your favourite outfits (don’t save your good underwear? What are you doing girl the pretty lace gets to be worn on a Monday too).

Eat right (if you can) but still get that poutine when you want a damn poutine.

Do your squats.


Run as fast as you can on that damn treadmill.

Read that funny article.

Pick up a book (and open and read it too).

Turn your phone off.


Colour. DOODLE.

Laugh at your imperfections: YES I have lettuce in my hair AGAIN.. it’s me.

Wear that matching bra & panties even though no one will see it:


Plan things.


Try something you’re afraid to do.

Hit the gym.

Make new friends.

As nice as THIS looks (and really actually is):


It’s nice to have THAT once a year, but this is cool too:


Keep singing those country songs as loud as you can by yourself in the car.

Those sappy empowering lyrics make you laugh.


Buy the 2L bottle of wine.. yes.. you will drink it.

Watch your feel good show.

Re-watch the LION KING, Harry Potter, Frozen, or TANGLED for the millionth time.

Take your dog for a walk.

Go see the local hockey games.


Accept compliments.

Give them as often as possible.

Buy people coffee (caffeinated people are happy people).

Go on the bad dates.

Put on that pencil skirt even though it’s cold outside.


Let one of the guys at the gym be your personal trainer without being insecure because you don’t use “grip powder” or have a “routine”.

Go on long drives.

Put the sunroof down.

We’re all alright.



It’s Not Just You: When You’re Not Sure If You Fit In With Those Taking Tequila Shots Or Those Paying Off Mortgages…

We’re in this weird stage of our life where we don’t quite fit in as adults, and we’re definitely not in with the bar star College kids.

Or are we?:


No. No, we’re definitely not.

When you’re around 19-21 year olds all you can think is:


When you’re around an adult audience, you’re definitely not there yet either! Oh your kids have are home sick? My best suggestion is some Flinstone’s vitamins.


We all have practiced this look when either group talks about something you can’t relate to:


EDM DJ’s? Oh.. yeah.. that can be kinda fun?

Place settings at your wedding? Hmm, I’m sure Pinterest could help you out with that?


Just keep doing what you’re doing! My opinion? Oh.. no you got this!

Take last night for example.. I, the extremely sober DD, was escorting a couple of 85′ girlfriends to the drunk food establishments, as we began getting pestered by a couple of boys born in 98′.


I have zero patience for five foot nothing over-confident teenagers commenting on how they would, “sooooo bang that chick”.


In heels, I’m standing at a strong 5’11. In what world does a 5’5 18 year old who started growing a bit of peach fuzz think he can stand behind me assessing my ass while I try to order a pita? Oh THIS world.

I love a good standoff with a guy who wants to humiliate me with sexual innuendos.


I’m full of really strong comebacks that will leave anyone speechless:


To which said boys respond to my incredibly tall attractive friend who is sporting sexy army pants, “WE CAN SEE YOU CAMO”.


Nothing like a little stranger arguing to realize you might all be too old for this shit.



You belong at home in bed with an oreo mcflurry and a smile.

You’re in no man’s land.

You like tequila shots, but always regret it the next day. However, You absolutely REFUSE to purchase Smirnoff Vodka and shudder when the bar stars down it.


You like socializing at a pub, but you almost would prefer to be at home, in your bed, getting a good nights rest with your fuzzy blankets.

NEWS FLASH. You’re completely indecisive about what you want in MOST aspects of your life and tend to jump around a lot.

You really can relate to the adults now when they’re talking about “claiming meals” and “saving gas receipts”. I mean, you don’t do it, but you unnnnnnnnnnderstand it.

You can definitely lend an ear to adults when they talk about their ex husbands, marital issues, or the trials of raising kids.

I mean, you don’t necessarily have anything to contribute except, leave that loser! Followed up with:


Lets rebuild that self confidence together! YOU DON’T NEED A MAN KAREN!


To which Karen replies with, yeah but like, you don’t have a mortgage and 4 kids.

Oh right. I thought we were being encouraging here, ya girl I can’t help with that,  start a happy show maybe?

This is where the understanding nod comes in:


That sucks. I care about you. I cannot help you. We should get some food and forget about this.

But all adults want to eat is SALAD and HEALTHY GREENS.

That’s where you’re back on team teenager.


I microwaved a baked potato for breakfast and my best friend had some sour keys. If you ask me to babysit your child, it’s getting a bowl of teddy grahams & milk.

I like take-out food and ramen noodles.

I also am known to only eat cheese and pasta. I am an anomaly to doctors following a strict Gilmore Girl’s diet of burgers and pop tarts.

I don’t mind broccoli, as long as it’s eaten with noodles.

I do not like to get food shamed, I can do that to myself THANK YOU.

The way I look at it, my mother’s lucky she didn’t raise a daughter with an eating disorder, unless you count overeating, which yeah, won’t be much of a problem until I’m out of this teenager/adult transition phase. I KNOW KAREN, I won’t be able to eat like this forever, I’ve heard from Susan.


There’s no doubt that somebody could lecture me all day about my funny life choices, but what fun is that?

Some of us have common issues that we can all discuss. It almost doesn’t matter if you’re  a teenager or an adult, we’re all tight on money!


We can all relate to this conversation. There’s nobody nodding off at this one thinkin’ haha not this kid! Just need to go home and groom my money tree.

Our broke-ness motivates us to work hard and have actual goals.


It’s basically do or die.

Do I want crackers for dinner or do I want chicken parm?

You ever been so broke you had air for dinner? I have an extremely helpful family so in my case no, but the way I manage my money, I SHOULD HAVE!

You have to be able to take care of yourself as if no one else is around!

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the young generation & the older generation, it’s that finances are e v e r y t h i n g.

Being a financially stable person on your own is a major priority.

This is difficult because most often, our passions don’t pay us very much at the start…


Believe me, some days, wouldn’t we all love to pack it in and marry rich? Have the financial backing to pursue our passions in peace? Oh right, but then we JUST HAVE TO get all invested in laughing with someone who’s just as broke as our sorry asses. Damn it.

Some of us don’t get invested in anyone at all. We just admire from afar the financially successful couples who have it all.


Ugh you guys are awesome. Even if you are just as broke as me.

But, equally as awesome, the freeeeeeeedom that comes with us single ones. Liiiiiike if I wanna spend all my money on a castle built of mcnuggets? Who’s gonna stop me? Not some silly fuck boy with advice like, “you need money in your account for your car payments” that’s for sure.


But you definitely have sound financial advice for others:


I really don’t know why you needed me to tell you that?

It’s kinda fun being the youth in the adult world. You really can fit in with both sides.

You can laugh about how introverted you want to be, holed up in your room watching netflix (also a good way to manage money as long as take-out is avoided).

Then you can be at a crowded pub with all of your friends and feel like you belong in this world too? EXCEPT when people bump into you, that shit is NOT ok.

You want to grind into me to start a conversation at an irish pub?? This is not a club for a reason. Get out of my personal space. I really really hate being touched by strangers. Your beer is getting spilled all over yourself, you’re smelling weird smells. Then they finally come up and talk to you, unless they’re super friendly and innocent:



This is the point where you relate to the adults again & start thinking I DON’T BELONG HERE. I BELONG AT HOME IN MY SNUGGIE.

So I guess long story short, get some freakin’ hobbies & goals or you’re forever going to be a confused wide eyed twenty something, like myself.


Hope everyone’s S-Monday was anxiety free!



31 Things That Happen When You’re At A Bar In Your Twenties

To start your bar night, one often takes a well-deserved nap to prep for the night’s festivities.

Which, you wake up to your end of world exhaustion which dictates that you cannot possibly carry on, let alone make it to a bar scene in a couple hours…


You return to the dreaded mirror….


IS THIS MY FACE????????????????


How. The fuck. Are we going to work with this.


But you do.

You end up with a final product of something liiiiiiiiiiike:


Your girlfriends text you asking what you’re wearing tonight…

Hmmm… Idk…


Cute as hellllllllll.

No for real I have nothing to wear wtf are you bitches wearing?

They respond with somethinnnnnng along the lines of:



I fully support this.

Ok ok so you meet up with your girlfriends.

You’re like so are you guys wearing jackets? They respond with:



Oh true ok. I will follow that lead and also abandon said jacket.

But of course, the second you get there, you’re like:


Ahhhhhhh fuck way to GOOOOO Brit. NOW WE’RE ALL FREEZING OUR TITS OFF! Amber. Amber. Get out of the cab. Let’s GO. Alright well if you can’t walk in heels Chelsea why the FUCK did you wear them that sounds like a problem for you LET’S GOOOO We’re COLD & THIRSTY.

HUUUUGE bar line up.

Walk up to the bouncer like:


Ok so he sees something more along the lines of:


But he’s still down he sees the potential of you and your crew.

He lets you in.

You guys stroll up into the bar like:


Ohhhhh hell ya.



Ok whatever. Let’s get a drink ladies.

Y’all line up to the bar. In which the bartenders looks something liiiiike:


You’re a bit jealous, but you’re more likeeeeee:


You look good. Good as hell. You look like I need the gym.

Ok let’s remember how Megan Fox we are and go dance ladies.


Which is immediately interrupted by creepy bar guy.


Well helloooooo LADIES.


Please god no.

Get away from me.

You send your friend the “help search and rescue” signal.

Luckily she recovers you with the:


Oops. Sorry. She’s not interested.

So you ladies return to the dance floor.


We know.

So you keep dancing with your ladies…


Next thing you know you’re supporting Kristy who’s all:


Oh dear.


oh my god.

Let’s not do that tonight.

I do NOT have your back I DO NOT HAVE YOUR BACK.

Every other girlfriend is watching like:


Fuuuuuuck no.

You calm her down, but Chelsea is off galavanting with a fuck boy.

She’s got moves like:


Oh boy. Return and Rescue situation.

Next thing you know fuckboys are hitting on YOU:

You try to share with them:


They don’t hear you because they are busy staring at your ass.

Here are your other options boys:


Yes, yes, my ass is incredible but so are her boobs.

Go on now.

Maybe even you get rejected for a second (HA!) :


You eventually round everyone up to discuss the need of drunk food.




Your favourite thing.

Love can be found among smoke’s poutine.



Tinderella out.

Beer Flavoured Nipples Are My Only Chance At A Holiday Date: Ho, Ho, Ho & A Bottle of Rum

It’s the holiday season – AKA time for Hallmark to make every person that is NOT in a relationship frequent LCBO shoppers.

blog_jess_taylor swift alone

It’s the season of couples. It is single girl HELL. Get out your couple spray it’s infectious.


It’s actually couples season for like, the next 4 months. What ever could I be talking about?

We’re talking November – company Christmas parties. December – MORE Christmas parties. Then WHAM Christmas EVE, CHRISTMAS, NEW YEARS, the land of mistletoe and…


Suddenly, just when you think that you’re out of the woods..

The big ole Vday.



Eat your feelings and move on. The only reason I look forward to Valentine’s Day is for those hysterical cards you used to get from the boy you hoped secretly liked you, but really his mom made him buy cards for the whole class. So you read into the message on the card you assumed he specially picked out for you, decoding every syllable looking for hints of, “I’m secretly in love with you, you’re the prettiest in the class but don’t tell my steady girlfriend”.

Instead, you get to look forward to a card & chocolate from your brother’s girlfriend who is aware year after year, you could use a Snoopy themed card.


In summary:


So back to Christmas.

I, of course, do not have a date to bring to any holiday functions. Starting WITH, the work Christmas party.

Last year, I brought my brother’s girlfriend, which altogether confused everyone.

So this year, when friends/family suggest I bring her again, or I bring a guy friend…


I think that I can get my own date ladies and gentleman.



My Tinder bio:


Swipin’ to not spend the next 4 months without a date.

Left for losers, right for Mr. Right. OR, in my case, right for:

You could possibly be good looking maybe, your bio made me laugh, I want you to introduce me to the hot friend in your pictures – oh he’s your brother?


Swipe swipe swipe.

Swipe s’more, gettin in the groove like:



Finally you take a chance on someone – and by take a chance you noticed the hint of a diamond earring on his left ear and thought .. nooooo…. maybe he’s not a creepy self-absorbed weirdo because he chose to .. do that… mhmm.. not an earring girl but trying to be open minded..

He messages you something like:





I’ve heard tinder jokes SO BAD, I’ve actually come to question my own sexual orientation. Am I asexual? Possibly.

I hate when boys say let’s chill? What the fuck is chill?

Boy: Haha we should chill.

Man: I’d love to take you out for dinner sometime.

The fuck  …  is chill. Take me on a date. I like ice cream. I like live music. Let’s go on an adventure… not an adventure to your parent’s basement exploring your Netlfix selection.


Ewwwwwwwwww you want to watch Blue Mountain State for the next FOUR hours?

I don’t particularly want to get to know you much further, let alone waste the next four hours of my Wednesday night making small talk on these hideous sheets you stole from your mom’s linen closet.

Goodbye sir.

Here’s a snoopy card and some chocolates for your trouble.


I told you I was mean.

I know what you’re thinking…

Maybe the problem isn’t these losers you keep going on dates with, maybe they aren’t losers after all, maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store, maybe Christmas, perhaps… means a little bit more! No seriously girl you sound like a stuck up whiny bitch and I’m going to stop reading your whiny ass blog.

You’re half right. I’m a cynical ass with remarkably high standards.

I’m upfront about that. I’m shopping for Mark Wahlberg in Planet of the Apes.. not Wahlberg in Ted, and especially not Marky Mark the underwear model (male models LIVE and BREATHE on Tinder).

I refuse to date someone prettier than me. Hotter than me, I can handle, prettier, no.


But Kailey, you sound like you’re not shopping at all, you sound like you’ve actually just given up on dating and get a bigger thrill about making fun of all of your prospects, which is actually really mean.

Yes, but I follow it up with an insult about myself so that makes it okay.

Besides, I’m just trying to figure out why the dating pool is actually a fish bowl in a whisky drunk frat boy’s dirty bathroom..

…why is that..

Me in the dating fish bowl:



It’s not my fault that these are my prospects:






He walks around strutting like a peacock with his dick hanging low like:



They walk around SHOUTING to each other, because all meatheads are friends, yes ma’am.

“YOOOO JACE I almost forgot my pre-workout so I had to turn around and now I’m feelin’ JACKED”.

“Hahah broooooo dece traps you’re making serious GAINS”.


Dear GOD no.




Back to my prospects:

People that come on too strong and do not understand the meaning of personal space:




Followed by the guy friend who always gets a little too handsy, but you don’t mind because he’s completely sweet and makes you laugh:


You can’t make that work though. It’s too easy.

You like seeing him in clothes ON environments.

Your other prospects?

Nice guys who absolutely are THRILLED about every aspect of your day from the poppyseed stuck in your teeth, to your one hour bubble bath.

Everything you talk about is an enticing subject that he would like to weigh in on:


But your heart?


There’s a lineup of Tinder guys asking when you’re going to agree to go on a date with them…

Don’t take it as flattery though, they don’t actually like you. They don’t give a single fuck.

They saw a photo and feel the need to comment on your ass.


Which, you take great pride in and respond with, “Yeah I know so?”.

We know what they want, my response:


Then it’s worrisome when they do actually care and keep coming back..


I assure you no, no I do not.

Sometimes it’s nice, sometimes it’s creepy.

When that creepy guy messages you even though you’ve ignored his last six messages:


Then a lot of the time the prospect list is zero.

Phone not buzzing. Snapchat not chatting. Tinder not .. flaming?


That’s when you realize you took all of the mediocre ones for granted.

You’re the problem.

Your friends say something witty like:

blog_phoebe_sex_changed it>

I wasn’t, BUT NOW I AM.


Then you’re like really desperate.


NOPE don’t do that!


Don’t get down on yourself, you’re smart, hot, funny, and don’t you forget it!

So, the only people who seem to notice that, who would have been worth your time, have girlfriends.

WHAT is THAT about.

Why do head turning guys with girlfriends have to go adding you on SNAPCHAT.

What are WE going to snap about?


Whatchu want from meeeeeeeeeeee???????

I’ll make you laugh and be your friend, but eventually someone as hot as you snapping ME is just CRUEL.

What am I gonna take a picture of? :


With every snap all I’m thinking is:


Hi, I love you?

I decided we should live on a street called Cedar Lane, with a wrap around porch, and I’ll take up Scentsy candle selling for extra income, and you’ll coach our son’s hockey team.


.. You’re not into that?

blog_christmas_boywant him

PLEEEEEEEASE PLEASE I don’t ask for much, just for this pretty boy to stop confusing me because I have already investigated his Facebook page and while it does not say, “In a relationship” there seems to be some photos lingering of him and his ex.


My detective stalker girl skills have led me to dismantle this fairy tale as I have deduced: YOU SIR are an ass with a girlfriend.


Back to stalking handsome Beard guy at the gym. GOOD DAY SIR.



I liked dreamy, mysterious, beard guy better anyway than your sorry perfect Prince Eric features.

HE I have a chance with.


He loves me.

He however, will not come talk to me because I’m awkward as HELL.

For some reason, I carry this bitch face around.

When I see a hot guy, I scowl and look away.

Kinda scratch my head, like no, I didn’t notice I was in sexy smirk’s presence…


Even if he did talk to me, I would probably just tell him that I like the parts of his face.. that are covered in skin…

Whatever, when he DOES talk to me:


Tinderella out.