backpain solution= robot buttsex

Move over ShakeWeight, there is a new easily-misinterpreted-as-sexual “fitness” machine on the market- Back 2 Life backpain solution.

This lazy Sunday night finds me curled up on my couch watching Grease on television. One of the commercials that interrupted the movie had me running across the apartment for my laptop. I have been far too busy to blog lately, but how can I resist writing about a machine that looks like it is shagging you.



Ladies, gentlemen, undecided, in-between and non-labelists…. This is Back 2 Life. It is here to dish out some hot , gyrating, robotic passion the likes you have never seen.



Back Pain? No problem, it’ll hump that malaise right out of you.


Not only will you experience extreme robotic-pleasure (As illustrated in the photo below pulled from the commercial and tweaked a bit with my fantastic Microsoft Paint skills) but you will be able to play golf again, and lift children with unhealthy amounts of joy (As illustrated in the promotional Back2Life video on their website)





The television commercial was just fantastic. Elderly men in sweatpants laying on their backs, with expressions of shear ecstasy on their faces as a piece of plastic presses itself firmly, yet ever-so-gently, against their bottoms.

I tried to find the television commercial online to share with you, however my search was fruitless.The promo video on their website is equally entertaining, especially when they boast the product will make your muscles “supple”. Great word choice, perverts.

They also have ever-so-scientific looking schematics and re-enactments to describe the technology behind Back 2 Life, called “Continuous Passive Motion”….


As you can see, this just further illustrates how much using this product resembles being shagged by a robot.





As my search continues, I’ve found several infomercials on YouTube that are making me chuckle. My favourite being one that is hosted by former CNN reporter Bella Shaw, who opens the show with a flat-toned reporter voice - “I’m Bella Shaw and I know something about you”



This is about as far as I got into the informercial, before I decided to let this hilarious product and associated promotional materials speak for themselves without picking them apart further.

I had great intentions on writing a lengthy satirical jaunt apropos mechanical coitus -turned back-pain relief, however, I think the creators of Back 2 Life did a lovely job making a laughing-stock of their product all by themselves.

(Side note- truth be told, I’m exhausted and can’t type anymore before bed. I will blog soon with a catch-up on my life.)

Much love! XO

(You can check out the hilarious promotional video that properly illustrates the robot-humping here http://www.tryback2life.com/ and that Bella Shaw video here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w__fHM0kuKg )

Parking-Lot-Camaraderie and feeling truly alive.

I feel I must write to you all. I can’t even bring you all up to date on my life before I can share this beautiful memory. That can come later. For now, I want to share this moment.

I’m looking out my hotel suite window, laying here on my newly-claimed-by-chance executive thrown. Unsure of everything yet feeling optimistic...some how I’ve tumbled into an alternate reality.

I’m looking out the window at a little group of men gathered around a big white truck. They are grey-haired, white-bearded and wearing fleurocent overhauls, with their favorite Canadian beer in hand. These men are fellow workers that my new employer has brought in from all over the East-Coast. This hotel is 90% fellow employees , doing a variation of jobs on one giant project. While I hold the operational management position , these vibrant men are the big , strong bones of this operation. The hard-working construction crews, and electricians. These men are how this company gets its money, how it stays afloat. These men are the ones deserving of the respect most management receive- management who’ve done no work the likes of what these men have seen.







The three currently sharing stories of homesickness over bouts of strong laughter drew me to say hello earlier, as I passed them. During the brief skip from my car, to the hotel door - I shared a moment with them. I juggled my Italian-takeout-dinner in my arms and giggled out a “You boy’s have the right idea!, while motioning down at the different six-packs of beer between all of their feet. I ask where they are from ,although their thick accents have already told me. These men call a varying spectrum of Atlantic areas home. Bathurst, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Cape Breton . These are real, small-town, down-to-earth men.

I could think of nothing else on the elevator ride up to my room but grabbing my camera and stealing a shot of these men through the window. I clicked a few memories, and jumped onto the huge kingsize bed where I’m currently typing away feverishly. Photographs weren’t enough. I had to write. Even now I can hear their laughter floating up through the window…their parking-lot camaraderie is touching and brings a smile to my face.

My dinner has long since gone cold sitting on the table. Reheated spaghetti while listening to the three far-from-home-friends laugh and tell stories? This night is wonderful. I want to remember this , always. This is what I needed this very moment to feel truly alive.

.....

I stepped away to have dinner before I actually posted this entry. I have also turned on the amazingly beautiful movie Dr. Zhivago, only to be sidetracked. I hear more laughter …louder still…I peak down to see the 3-man group has since grown.



I can’t help but sit here and watch the scenes unfold out the window. Now they are playing old Cape-Breton folk music out of one of their trucks. I feel like I’m watching the single most beautiful thing that the majority of the world lacks…..but I can’t quite put into words just what that is.

Justice puffs.

Hello my dear, devoted and neglected blog readers (However few you may be!)

Firstly, my apologies for not updating….I know you’ve been wanting a Vegas recap, particularly about my adventures at VLV..one will come, when things settle down. I promise!

For now, it is late and my ovaries are cramping my style so to speak ...I have tried Midol PM, and admittedly, I currently occupy a somewhat altered reality.

Of course, this means I’m going to write about men’s personal hygiene products.

I randomly decided to Google-search the ingredients to my significant other’s body wash. Since we tend to have a rather vigorous ..ahem… intimate understanding of each other …on a daily basis....ahem...I am of course concerned with what may be lingering around on skin that may happen to wind up in my own body. Legitimate concern with the amount of icky chemicals on the market today, right?

Well I have been side -tracked by Old-Spice’s ballsy (pun intended) advertisements.

I present to you, dear readers, the “Deck Scubber” :

“Gets Rid of Dirt, Odor and Barnacles”

“An experienced seaman knows the gentler sex is unlikely to board a vessel whose deck, galley, and undercarriage has not been scrubbed as clean as the shiny inside part of an oyster shell. This Old Spice Deck Scrubber gets rid of dirt, odor and barnacles, working harder than lazy soap and lathering way better than just your hand alone. So start scrubbing, sailors, and don’t forget to wash behind your everything”
(via http://www.oldspice.com/products/product/97/Old_Spice_Deck_Scrubber/)

Really, Old-Spice? Barnacles?


Barnacles are annoying little creatures that get into moist areas and like to stick around, dearest Old-Spice.

They are technically categorized as fouling (“the undesirable accumulation of microorganisms on a wet surface“, should you be too lazy to Wikipedia-search it)…

Essentially, barnacles are the herpes of the sea.

So…am I correct in my assumption that this dick…err…“deck” scrubber , removes a particularly nasty little STI?

Now I can’t help but picture particularly promiscuous men, feverishly scrubbing their dirty “decks” with glorified lady-puffs.


So, in conclusion, I’m lead to believe that Old Spice’s man-detailer and Deck-Scrubber are essentially shower-puffs of justice...crotch-justice.

Go justice-puffs.

Oh hey!

Just a quick entry to let you all know, my pretties, that this spot will be a lil' quiet for awhile....

LAS VEGAS, HERE I COME!

I'll be back April 5th..expect a long update with many photos!

XOX

Lenora

Nun puppets, big hair, "The Rockabilly Check-List dude"- all a typical night in Moncton

Last night marked the first time I'd gone out in Moncton since New Years Eve.

The lovely Miss Eddie Vee and I attended the Moncton High School production of Nunsense. Eddie ( an art teacher) made the nun puppet, and scored some free tickets to the show, so, we went and had quite a few laughs. It was surprisingly racy and hilarious for a highschool production. I was pleased and impressed. I particularly enjoyed when the chubby lady superior character got high and rolled around on the floor. Good wholesome family entertainment.

Miss Vee's nun puppet.

Moncton High is my old stomping ground...The old woody smell of the ancient auditorium hadn't changed, and stirred memories I'd all but forgotten. The creek of the wooden chairs were the same, and reaching down under the seats, I was happy to find some of them still had the wire hat racks, from when gentlemen still wore hats and stashed them under their seats.

I love these seats. The building was built in the early 1900s, and still has lots of original features. These seats are magic to me...I can't help daydream about the lives of the generations of people who have sat in them...the conversations they've over heard, the heartbreaks and delights they've witnessed.

As always, we were a tad obnoxious and recieved many dirty looks from the conservative Maritimers that filled the other seats. Balls to you, ya darn sticks in the mud!

After the show it was off to my humble abode for a quick wardrobe change before we scurried off to the Paramount Lounge, to see The Mighty, The Katacombs, and the Rockin' Rebels.

As always the Moncton crowd was predictably terrible. Many new faces, but many faces I'd have preffered not to see. Eddie and I occupied the back table and people- watched.

The Katacombs

While we were dazzled by the overwhelmingly poor accoustics of the Paramount, we couldn't help but notice Mr. Rockabilly Checklist. Now, Moncton doesn't really have a rockabilly scene. 98% of people don't know what Rockabilly is...Eddie Vee and I stick out like sore thumbs...and so did Mr. Rockabilly Checklist (See above photo, he is playing the stand-up bass). He looked very familiar, and blatantly stared at my tits all evening (can't blame him, my cleavage was indeed awe-inspiring). Of course, he was in the next band to play after the Mighty. Once his band took the stage...it was yack yack yack.

Now, one thing I hate, is when you go to see a band, and all they do is bloody talk.

So, like the bitch I am I yell out " LESS TALK, MORE ROCK!!!!!" He is obviously taken a little by surprise, says something about no one ever telling him to shuttup that he likes it... This is not the outcome I wanted. I said less talk, more rock , damnit! So, I pipe up once again " I'LL SAY IT AGAIN! SHUTTUP!"....and the rock finally begins with Miss Vee laughing hysterically and humping me in victory.

After his set, Mr. Rockabilly Checklist makes his way over. My anxiety hits me like a hard-crashing wave, and I feel like I have to vomit. I take a deep breath and prepare my bitch-sheild.

He begins to talk about how much he enjoyed me telling him to shuttup, and just as I'm about to spit out " Allow me to say it again."....

"Do you remember me?" says Mr. Rockabilly Checklist.

Well damnit.

Apparently I know Mr. Rockabilly Checklist.

Only, he wasn't always Mr. Rockabilly Checklist.

He refreshes my memory a bit...and I remember this stand-up bass playing semi-douche used to be an annoying goth kid that would randomly lick people's faces. I remember he once liked my face at a metal show, and I punched him square in the balls. He liked it.

So, Mr.Rockabilly Checklist is also Mr. Once-upon-a-Goth, Face-licker extrodinaire.

Joy of Joys. Goddamnit, Moncton, why do you always throw such odd things my way?

By this point, Eddie Vee is getting increasingly tipsy and wonderfully obnoxious; just how I love her. I'm painfully sober since I was the DD. We deal with various assholes, douchebags and idiots- you know, the typical Moncton show-goer.

By the time the Rockin' Rebels hit the stage, we've had just about enough. We try to enjoy a few of their "new" songs....that sound suspiciously exactly like all their other songs. Sorry boys, you are my friends and all, I appreciate what you're trying to do...but...well...sorry to say you've missed the boat.

The thrasing and spazzing drunk girl to my left, who was whipping me with her goddamed hair had earned herself some of my famous death-glares. Her friend across the bar notices, rushes over, taps her friend on the shoulder, points in my direction and pulls her away. Apparently I'm scary. Miss Vee announces that once her drink is finished, we can hit the pavement. This fills me with joy. After a few more douche-encounters, we are safetly high-tailing it home.

Goodnight, Moncton. You haven't changed a bit, and I won't miss you at all while I'm in Vegas.

Nothing exciting here, just birdies!

Hello my pretties.
Just a mundane update for you today.

It is a snowy yet sunny Friday afternoon here in Moncton. The thin coat of snow outside makes me yearn all the more for sweet, sweet Vegas....5 days!

I'm sitting around with mom watching some movies and playing with the animals. The house is now a zoo. 3 birds, and a portly lil doggy. My little bluebird with balls of steel, Kira, is very curious about this big white puffy thing...and has been trying to groom her all morning. Above is my mother , giggling at Kira climbing up her leg to get to Honey.

Agua and Audrey, ever in love...Shes grooming his head here....so cute it hurts me. Could also be mistaken for zombie-birds...Brains nom nom nom.

Tonight, as previously blogged, Eddie Vee and I are seeing Nunsense this evening, then attending the Rock'n Rebels CD release show.

My apologies for this poor excuse for a blog entry.

I am now off to finish watching St. Trinians with my mother....Rupert Everette in drag, you just can't go wrong with that. Pure entertainment.

Cookies are goddamned fantastic, especially when they tell me good things.

I have to say, this is the most appropriate fortune I've ever had.

The cookie was also delicious.

Also, many thanks to all the people that have reposted my last fat-activism entry. Thank you for the kind emails and messages. I'm glad you enjoyed it, and that some of you found inspiration from it.

XO

Lenora

Let me teach you a lil' something, my pretties.

The time has come to explain a few things.

I have lost count of just how many times someone has questioned my self-identifying as a fat activist.
Let me clear it up for you, dear readers.

I am a fat activist.




I am an activist, who is fat.
I am an activist for those who are fat.
I am an activist and advocate for acceptance of all bodies, shapes, sizes, colors, genders, etc.


I use the word “fat”.as a neutral descriptor. “ Fat” is an adjective. I do not put any negative connotations on the word. As many other stigmatized words, it is being taken back, and used in new ways. I will not let the word “ Fat” be used against me as a negative. Saying “ Shit, bitch, you look fat today” computes as “Shit bitch, you look white/female/human today.” Your negativity will not cut me, and I will fight like hell to stop it from cutting others.


I do not promote obesity.
I do not deny that there are many health problems linked to obesity.

I DO NOT BUY INTO THE COMMERCIALIZATION OF BODY HATRED.

I do not believe that all fat bodies are unhealthy. (This is SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN, people. Look into the “Health and Every Size” movement.) Just as I don’t believe all extremely thin bodies are unhealthy.

I do not believe all the “research” (propaganda) out there that is preaching the evils of being even slightly overweight. (When reading statistics- look into who conducts the studies. Studies can be highly biased, often results are swayed in the direction the conductor wants, usually for financial gain. Ha, gain, see what I did there?)

I am not a “skinny bitch” hater. Skinny bitches are beautiful. Fat bitches are beautiful. In-between bitches are beautiful. Non-bitches are beautiful…HUMAN BEINGS ARE GODDAMNED BEAUTIFUL IN ALL THEIR VARYING FORMS! ! It is okay to say this, and mean it!

I believe that discriminating someone based on their body is shameful, disgusting, and a huge HUGE problem in our world today.

I believe a person has the right to occupy as much or as little space as they want, without being made to feel guilty.


I believe all these things and more….and wish so very hard that more people would challenge their views on bodies in general.

Why?

We experience the world through our bodies. A positive, healthy relationship with our bodies is key in a fulfilling life.

My body is how I’ve learned, grown, lived, loved, hated, explored and hidden.
All these experiences and more are near and dear to me- I cherish them deeply…and know they would not have been the same in any other body. I have experienced hardships with my body, and because of my body , and yet I love each and every inch of myself, and I will not let anyone tell me I shouldn’t.

I am truly saddened when a woman, who has just finished praising me for my confidence, then utters “ I wish I could feel as good….” YOU CAN! YOU SHOULD! PLEASE DO! This is not an impossible task.


I am fat.

“Coming out” as fat was a huge deal.
I was met with so many “ Oh , no , you’re not fat! You’re chubby/porky/pleasantly plump/curvy”… How dare you try and deny me my own self-identity?

I am not a big slothy slob. I go to the gym 3 times a week, I eat a well balanced diet, and am health conscious. I camp, I fish, I go canoeing, I am a certified lifeguard. I am not married to my couch, glued to a bag of chips with pizza man on speed dial.

The sad thing? I have to tell you these things to get your respect.

I break boundaries.
I make people think twice about what a fat person can and can’t do.
I encourage other fat people to do the same.
I encourage all people to challenge notions about what a “normal” body is and can do.


I could go on and on.

I would like to share another rant that is extremely appropriate to this topic. This woman’s writing has inspired me greatly, and this entry in particular feels as if I could have written it myself from my own heart. Please take the time to read it in its entirety. It is not what you think. http://bloginatrix.com/?p=498 . Here is a bit that I particularly enjoy:

“The people who told you that my fat is a failing on my part? They were lying.
The people who told you that fat is the same thing as weak and lazy and stupid? They were lying.
The people who told you that morality has a place in conversations about mass? They were lying, too.
And the people who told you my size is your business, that you have the god-given right to judge me based on my shape, my dimensions? Liars.
All of these people lying to you… about me.

The point is money. The point is power.
They lie because they wanted you to buy things.
They lie to you, about me, about what fat means, because they want you to be scared of becoming me.
..I am sorry that you believe being me would be so terrible. (It isn’t.)
…I am a human being who has a body, and I manage that body the absolute best way I know how.
I’m sorry they’ve made that so very easy for you to forget”


Does all this answer your questions?

No longer do I seem like some fat girl prancing about screaming “ Yaye fatties, be fat, fuck ya’ll skinny bitches, if I say fat is okay, I’ll feel okay about myself, but I‘m secretly lying.”

No.

The bottom line is, when I step out into a world that hates me…instead of curling into a big squishy ball and letting the hate and ignorance perpetuate itself….I do something about it. I say something about it. I put my big fat foot down.

At the end of the day…. I can stand totally naked in front of my mirror, looking at every fold, stretch mark, curve, dimple and “imperfection” . I can see and feel the power , grace and creativity my body possesses., and I say “ I like this” …. “ I am beautiful” .

And when I stand there, free of the pressure of what the world wants me to be….all I can think of is how much I wish that every other person out there, could look into their mirrors or step into the street and say and feel the same things about themselves….

And mean it.


photocredit: http://www.definatalie.com

I debate the porn industry with my mother

My loving parents have arrived safely. After living in the US for two years, they will once again call this small-town home .



I haven't seen my mother since Christmas time...so what is the first conversation we sit down to have?


Why, debating the porn industry, of course!



Now, let me give you a little background about my mother. She was born and raised in a very small town in New Brunswick, called Bathurst- a tiny French town with nothing to do at all. She grew up poor, and weird. Tall, blonde, slim and blue eyed, she won the Miss Bathurst Pageant when she ran as a joke,much to the dismay of the popular rich girls who also ran. She is a strong, intelligent, extremely kind and giving person, with a sick and twisted sense of humour like my own (sometimes!). She has been with my father (the black haired once-upon-a-punk rocker) since highschool, they moved to Toronto, and had lil ol' me.

(Here is the best google result for Bathurst, New Brunswick... ha ha how very stereotypically-East Coast Canadian.)

(No, no one actually dresses like those lil kids on the back of the cart, that is just a tourist trap, recreating the "old days")



Oh did I mention her name is Sandra-Dee? She refuses to go by this name, insisting on Sandy instead. She was in highschool when Grease came out, and was teased endlessly....this lead me to never be allowed to watch Grease in the house growing up. Needless to say she wasn't too pleased when I revealed the cursive letters permanently inked into my forearm that spell out......Sandra Dee.....



All in all, I consider my mother to be the pinacle of womanhood and everything I could aspire to be in one way or another. Despite her occasional dabblings in crazy-town, I love her and admire her. She is extremely liberal in many ways....except her views on porn.

My dear mother is dead-set against the porn industry, saying that all porn is extremely degrading to women.



I remember growing up, exploring my sexuality, and becoming very curious about pornography...and vividly remember the extreme embarassement and shame I was made to feel when she found my porno stash. If only she knew just how big of a pervert her little baby girl turned out to be. (I had to play the "lets hide the mountain of sex toys/whips/canes/floggers/rope/chains/etc" game this morning before her arrival)


I have blossomed into an extremely liberal and forward-thinking woman. My mother often proclaims her pride for me, and encourages and supports me in all my alternative-lifestyle choices....but tonight, I hit a chord with her.


We started discussing Newfoundland's campaign to respect women. Mom automatically went on her tangent- "Well, that is great. will they destroy all the porno, too?"



No, mother. It is 2010. The porn industry has made leaps and bounds. I started to tell her about sexual activism. Those with alternative bodies and genders, using those bodies as sites of social change. The amazing work, particularly in the Trans community, and size-acceptance communities- giving voice to entire groups of people through the most basic and raw of human activities; sex.


Her face told it all : "Does not compute" .



Her confusion turned to anger and denial... claiming that it was all just money in the pocket of woman-exploiters.



Oh mommy. I love you...but times have changed.


The conversation has ended....for tonight.



I think I will make it my mission to show her the amazing things happening for women these days. I'm not saying I'm going to sit her down and show her an April Flores porn...no...that would be a tad too awkward, even for me...but I think I'll be doing some searching for the right literature to pass her way.





If anyone has any suggestions of some reading to push her way, by all means, hit the comment button below!



Thanks, as always, for reading.


xo
Lenora

Newfies teach their kids how to be gentlemen.

While I wait for my lovely parents to arrive home from Minnesota , why not update my blog, hmm?





Firstly, Newfoundland is running a great campaign right now. It is very simple, and not something I would have expected.

Pretty neat, huh? They have print ads and TV commercials. You can see all the other ads, as well as the commercial on their site.

Check out the website at http://www.respectwomen.ca/

The little feminist in me nods with approval. Good on ya', Newfies for teaching your children how to be gentlemen. Thank you.

On my net-surfing adventures today, I came across a beautiful painting by Pierre August-Renoir , done in 1910.

"Bather Admiring Herself in the Water".

Beautiful... I have to say, I'm a big fan of any curvy-gal art and this is the best I've seen in awhile. I adore the curve and swell of her hips, and how well the artist captured the softness of her flesh.

and with that, my dear readers, I shall retire my "pen" .

xoxo

Poorly photoshopped motivational posters---Reality can suck it.

Well hello there, pretties.
As the poorly photoshopped picture above shows...I'm currently packing for Vegas.
7 days lay between me, currently sitting on my ass on this couch (not) studying...and stepping onto a plane headed for Nevada.

I am tickled every color you could think of...especially pink. Yes. Especially pink,indeed.




This is what I *should* be doing. I have a psychology midterm this evening at 7pm. I could care less, to be honest...I am quite glad this semester is almost done, so I can just write it off, take the summer to rebuild my mental health, and come the fall...I will be back to my 3.9 GPA self (hopefully!).




Friday evening, Miss Eddie Vee and I will be attending the local highschool's production of Nunsense...She made the puppet for the play and scored some free tickets, so why not. It will be nice to wander the halls of my old highschool I suppose...it is a beautiful building built in the 1900s.



Afterwards we will be going to our friend's CD Release party. This causes me great anxiety. As a few of you know, I hate going out in Moncton these days. The small-town mentality, the overwhelming drama and immaturity, the shitty nightlife in general...Ah! However, it is to support friends, so. I shall bite the bullet.
(The poster above is for the Halifax show). So, any Maritime folk reading, why don't you skip on over to the Manhattan Bar and Grill to check out the best (and only...) psychobilly this town has to offer.

With that, dear blog-o-sphere, I bid you good-afternoon. Time to hit the books and finally do a little cramming.

....I'd much rather be elbow-deep in bins of vintage clothing looking for that perfect dress I know is hiding, just for me, somewhere. Ah thrift shopping, you bring me such joy.

XO!

I'm alive, I bitch, and I'm going to Vegas.

Hello internet-land.

2 years later, I write to you again. My crippling twitter-addiction has satiated my pseudo-blogging desires thus far…however this rainy March afternoon, 140 characters just isn’t cutting it for this sass-pot.

I write to you from a laptop - perched upon my psychology text book. I should be studying. Tomorrow evening’s psych midterm is quickly inching closer, but , I admit dear blog-o-sphere….I care not. Many things have changed for me this semester- mostly my mental health, I am not too proud to admit. My hard-earned 3.9 GPA from last semester will surely plummet….but, all things considered, things could be worse.

2010 has brought blessings and curses. Most notable being my best friend and I surviving flipping my car upside-down at the end of January. Something or someone must have been looking out for us both, since we both walked away without any physical damage, and for that I am truly thankful.

Flipped car. Oh hey!


For a brief time it gave me a renewed love for life. That has fizzled and died for a bit…leaving me with crippling anxiety, and second guessing everything in my life. Now I stand at an unhappy crossroads. Do I run to find something to live for?

My mundane East-Coast-Canadian life is far from fulfilling when I venture out of my bubble.


But, I digress. I shall not have this post be a giant pity-party cluster fuck. No one wants to read that, correct?

One of the things that gives me a reason to get up in the morning lately is my fast-approaching trip to LAS VEGAS!



My beautiful, talented and hilarious lady-wife and best friend Eddie Vee ( from car-flipping-companion fame) and I will be attending Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekender #13.



At the risk of making this entry far too long…..A quick list of the fantastic activities shall include: A trip to the Neon Graveyard, seing Dita Von Teese perform at the Crazy Horse, seeing Chuck Berry and Wanda Jackson live, the giant carshow, burlesque show, staying at the Flamingo, shopping…etc etc. I promise to update with photos when I come home!



That being said…I will try my best, dear blog-o-sphere, to update my blog semi-regularly with witty banter, random photos, and as much positivity as possible. I’m hoping this little pet (blog) of mine will inspire me to see some good in my ridiculous small-town life once more.

Good day, beautiful internet-folk!

Xo
ps- Should you wish to follow me on Twitter...look up LenoraLeNoire