Pussy cow, Pussy cow, Pussy cow.

img_1487

(Random note: When I was a kid there was a white guy that lived across the street that would wear baby blue polyester suits and walk his dog. I use to call him Cal Worthington and his dog Spot.)

Earlier today I had a chat with my good buddy Amber. Around five years ago Amber went from being a hairdresser in Los Angeles to raising a family in Vermont. Personally, I would rather do ANYTHING in Vermont than have to live in smoggy LA. Anyways she mentioned missing the California lifestyle. Shopping, tanning at the beach with a beer, and midnight BBQ’s can take the stress away from job hunting all day.

I mentioned how I recently decided to trade alcohol for mint tea. Lately drinking has only lead to fights, regret, hangovers, and wine stained lips. I also cut back on the shopping because I plan on going to school full time here in Toronto and that is a bit costly.I don’t even recall the last time I had a mani/pedi. And the guy that currently occupies my life? I have no complaints. He makes me happy,the end. She responded with “WHAT?!?!?! Don’t you miss the crazy California life? What happened to you?”

Nothing happened to me. Any change I have made would have been made anywhere I live. Canada did nothing but make me dislike Canadians. Canada made me realize how different I am, and how that is a wonderful thing. They hate me because I will never love them,not like I love Californians.

06

And the reason why I love Californians (at least Northern Californians)? We don’t need your love. We don’t care what you think is fashionable. We will wear UGG’s in the morning to work, flip flops on our lunch break, and heels to the club. We wear short shorts and a bikini top to the grocery store, post office, and Starbucks. It is 106F and that is our wardrobe for that day. Tattoos, piercings,tans,implants-normal. Not your real nose? You weren’t born a girl? Who cares.Everyone has something and no one else cares.

So as I walk down the streets in Toronto with my new UGG’s, my diamonds, my last season Prada shades, my chihuahua in a pink sweater,and a number of other things to make people cringe I will smile knowing I am Californian, and we don’t care.

img_1496

Advertisements

4 Responses to “Pussy cow, Pussy cow, Pussy cow.”

  1. Matt (poke my hontas) Willis Says:

    As a young blossoming boy I remember singing Mr. Worthington’s song in my head on Saturday afternoons during the movie block, “Pussy Cow pussy cow pussy cow…” It wasn’t until years later that someone pointed out that the lyrics to that jam are actually “Go see Go Come see Cal Go See Cal. But in my hear it will always be Pussy Cow. Also, from my years at Goth clubs in Sacramento, I remember that Cal Worthington’s disowned Grandson was the gothic tranny in the corner in a blonde wig dancing to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”.

  2. Matt (poke my hontas) Willis Says:

    *Go see Cal, Go see Cal, Go see Cal. See above…

  3. jankypanky Says:

    I remember once being at Faces with James (Chris’s bf from YEARS ago) and that one guy “does his cum taste as good as mine” (forgot his name) and this messed up tranny walked by and they said “That’s Cal Worthingtons grandson!”. We laughed for days.

  4. Matt (poke my hontas) Willis Says:

    That would be heshe…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: