Y’all, I seriously wish that rapture had shown up, cuz fer serious, I got nothing to write. My favourite bloggers are either:

a) riddled with anxiety, drama and drunken/drugged-out adventures

OR

b) people that actually have their shit together and lead interesting lives.

I gots neither of these things going for me. I’m out, get on well with my parents, about to have a kinda-interesting-but-only-to-me career and don’t do nearly enough drugs. Seriously. I’ve been looking and – so strange – no one has responded to my “SELL ME DRUGS” craigslist ad. I’m also doing a cleanse at the moment so I can’t even drink. I had three weeks worth of Chelsea Lately episodes to watch last weekend, an impossible endeavour whilst sober, and momentarily contemplated giving myself a vodka tampon enema (yeah, it’s a thing), but after reading into it, I decided that burning sensation, diarrhoea (that’s British spelling, y’all!) and potential death aren’t really my thang. And so I holla’ed back to my decongestant experiment days and popped 3 non-drowsy Advil Cold & Sinus. Unfortunately, they just made me buzzed and really cranky, so at 9:30pm I took an Adivan and called it a night.

Do you see? Do you see why this is not the blog of winners?

Also, follow me on Instagram @theillustriousd. I take cool pictures. Rekanize.

I am NOT what I eat if I'm a dick

I think there must be some sort of positive correlation between one’s age, the time they have been single and inquiries about if there is a guy/boy/someone special/anyone/new person/dating service in their life.

I have had some form of this question posed to me no less than 5 times this week, 3 of them by my father. He wants a gay-in-law so damn badly. Crazy hunkey.

I had a bit of revelation last month. It’s not all inked in dogma or something revelatory requiring a soapbox. However, after years of everyone and their mom (yeah, moms always wanna make sure I’m getting ass) asking about my romantic life, and me consequently spending a lot of time thinking about it, ye ol’ brain came up with this:

What if it never happens?

Let me say right here before anyone jumps in with, “Oh you’ll find someone,” or, “You’re a great person; it’s only a matter of time.”

You shut your face. Hard. That kind of talk is unwanted here. No, like really hard.

Because, not to be a defeatist, but simply from a pragmatic perspective, what if it just…doesn’t happen? Am I to wander around for the next 20-30 years looking for this elusive thing rather than just being awesome and enjoying the ridiculously cool life I plan on building? F 2 da no, I say. You gotta be okay with just you. Some people get good with Jesus. I’m going to get good with D-sus.

Yeah. That just happened. Sorry.

Robyn covering Bjork

I haven't been able to find any good drugs in Toronto, but this just totally got me high.

Wax THIS off, mufuka.

Elderly Grocery Store Owner: Hello! I help you?

Illustrious D: Don't you try you Far Eastern charm on me, bubba!

EGSO: *toothless mouth parts slightly*

ID: Shit...is about to go down.

EGSO: *reaches for 911 button*

ID: I AM HERE TO TALK ABOUT V8 JUICE.

EGSO: *retracts hand*

ID: THIS, Mr. Miyagi, is inferior product.*

EGSO: Uh, that's a V8 bottle with water in it.

ID: Precisely, sir. I bought this bottle of what I thought was refreshing, healthful, not at all disgusting and only bought because I'm on a motherfucking diet bottle of vegitable** juice and what did I wind up with, but water.

EGSO: Sir, I do not believe that you bought it like this.

ID: Or DID I?

EGSO: You did not.

ID: *persuasive eyebrow raise*

EGSO: *shake of head*

ID: *stink eye...like a really good stink eye*

EGSO: *uncomfortably averts eyes*

ID: Ha! I win!

EGSO: Sir, you drank the juice and filled the bottle with water, didn't you?

ID: I ju-! I ca-! WH-? Js-? TIHL?

EGSO: Ok, now you're just putting random consonants together.

ID: Your mom.

EGSO: Wow.

ID: *jazz hands*

EGSO: I think you should leave.

ID: Right-o.



*Wow, the Illustrious D is super racist, guys.

**That's Italian for vegetables. Get cultured, fools.

Two Things

1. My parents went to a royal wedding theme party where everyone was supposed to wear a fancy hat, a fancy top and casual pants. My father later sent me a group photo of the party wherein everyone's lower half was still considerably fancy (full-length dresses, tux pants, etc). I sent an e-mail asking what had happened to the casual bottoms. His response:

"My underwear was very casual. Dad"


2. Today, while waiting in the rain for a streetcar, I decided to check Grindr and guess who was less than 300 metres away from me. Yep. This is my life.