I’m Badly Behaved


….with this blog. Just so, so naughty. It’s a pattern with me, I just love ’em and leave’em blog after blog. Don’t even get me started on my last long-term blog. Ugh.

(This is a cool, sassy and fresh way of saying oh god I am sorry I get mad blog anxiety but let’s work on this relationship togetherrrrr)

So, let me strap my gossiping garters on and let’s get started. I’ve got a couple of things to talk about in this post that I’ll likely be expanding on in my trademark psychotic-babbling kind of way over the summer, ranging from “Summer Nights” to “Rebel Girl” (if you don’t Bikini Kill, you NEED to Bikini Kill, dude) on the cute – punk rock scale. With some of my lovely ladyfriends off travelling the globe, living and learning large-scale, I decided that I was going to do my best to expand my own horizons over the sunny months and, it’s been a veeeery educational summer thus far. I’ve got a whole new larder of rant-rave-casual-chitchat material in my mental ’50s-housewife kitchen. Rolling onwards…

1. My Life Update, Yo (This Is The Summer Nights Bit)

Soooooo, fab readers, you may recall that English celebrated her birthday this year in high style (read all the spicy details here). Well, as it turns out, Mr Attractive Birthday Lay has an older brother.


There had admittedly been some drunken back-and-forth in the past (nooo touching, though, you dirty birds!), but I was still solidly surprised when, after a party, I received an invitation to coffee. Comms has not dated in quiiiiite some time (and Comms has had some date-related headaches in the past, and also Comms does not flirt too easily. Comms is weird, okay). But this guy is cuuuuuute, and I mustered up my nerve and agreed to coffee, and everything that has followed since then has been a funny but excellent combination of sweet and hot (mmm, Chinese food wow unsexy analogy).

So, I’ve got a boyfriend (that word just seems so unusual to me), annnnd I have gotten laid the fuck out. Like laid laid. Damn. I’m definitely set up nicely to learn a lot of things in that respect (hello hello hello, all things non-vanilla), and I’m right chuffed. Will provide updates on the best of the best. But for now, all I will say is that I am decidedly NOT laying back and thinking of England in the bedroom (unless by England you mean…dick…)

2.  Riot Grrrls, Woman Power and Sex-Positivity (BIKINI KILLLLLLLL)

So I’ve been taking a course on popular music and culture during the summer term, and there has been plenty of fascinating food for thought right from week one. But I gotta say, probably my all-time favourite topic of the term was our week on gender roles and classic musical genres. The shift from blues to “cock rock” and the inherent male-dominated sexuality of popular genres (except early disco, that shit was fluuuuuid) really got my feministy-brain going – especially when we got to riot grrrls.

Oh god, I LOVED the riot grrrls.

They were loud. They were rude. They were in-your-face and over-the-top and they gave no fucks whatsoever. I am a woman, I do whateverthefuck I want, I do whoeverthefuck I want and I could rule the world. Scratch that, I DO rule the world. Hell yeah. It’s been argued that Nirvana, the gods of grunge, grew out of the furious power and the tight-knit communities of the riot grrrls, and they still stand as a loud-and-proud inspiration (some stay they’re still going strong in new iterations too. See Pussy Riot if you haven’t already!).

So look forward to more punk-feminist posts from me, as well as probably rambly and maybe nonsensical discussions of sex-positivity from multiple angles as I continue my wild trajectory of self-directed studies. (And, oh yes, updates as to my own adventures.)

I’ll sign off on this wandering, clip-heavy post with one more piece of punk – this is a Vancouver girl-group that rocks righteously hard. Take some of that invincible fire with you on your day and remember that you are the queen of the neighbourhood, readers.

-Love and loud music,





I don’t hate you all, I swear!


Let’s switch things up for a minute, wait! Are you telling me someone besides English is actually posting? Holy Crap!

Yeah, hey guys, Archaeology here. Wanted to apologize for the silent treatment y’all have been getting, I’m currently in the South Pacific in a country where you can be arrested for wearing party hats on Sundays. Yeah, the Kingdom of Tonga is the silliest country I’ve ever been to, and I’m loving the crap out of it. 

So unfortunately until I’m back you’ll just have to deal with more of English (Oh no! How ever will be cope with reading juicy stories from such a wonderful word wizard?!) and Communications (who has some stories to share and really needs to get on it, girl!) while Biology and I explore different parts of the globe.

But don’t worry, before I left I got involved with a guy who has been introducing me to the sub-culture present in our city of BDSM, Dom/Sub, and Kink parties. His new job also involves the intense knowledge of tying knots, and he’ll need tons of practice to perfect such a skill. Good thing he’s got a willing subject to help in his education. There is going to be a boat load of experimentation and crazy stories for all of you. Patience is the key young grasshoppers.

Stay sexy folks!

Love, Archaeology

I Got Dated So Hard


I know, I know, it’s me again. English. But I actually have a story. No, I didn’t get laid. But I did get dated. I got dated so frickn hard by the cutest frickn lady ever.

Okay, story time.

It started on Saturday. Well, Saturday had already turned into Sunday by the time the concert ended, but just barely. I was standing by the bar with a glass of water, recovering, when a girl comes up to me and says “Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty”.



Being the natural smooth-talker that I am, I choked on a bit of water before saying “ffff, you too, holy shit” because she’s like, the cutest thing in the entire fucking venue, and she’s talking to me. I mean, I’d noticed her as soon as I walked in the place. Oh my god. The way she looked at me, like I was the only person in the room. Jeez.

So she goes back to her friends, I get my bag from coat check, and keep the ticket so I could write my number on it. I’m almost on autopilot, like I’ve known what to do in this situation for ages, but haven’t quite been tested yet.


I walk outside, and she’s standing right by the door being adorable as fuck. I go over and offer my small, scrawled number to her, and do the whole “‘maybe we could coffee sometime” thing, and she takes it. Smiles. Puts her hand on my arm. I’m floored.

The next morning, I’m heading downtown for a one-off street style photoshoot that Comms hooked me up with, and I get a text. From her. Asking me if I was free for breakfast because she was busy all week and away on the weekend and she couldn’t let me slip away.


I said yes, of course. As soon as the photo thing was done, we met for brunch. It was lovely. She was lovely. She’s incredibly fascinating. Does free-lance design, and happens to be insanely into the swing/Lindy Hop scene. And she ran away with the bill before I could pay it. Ladies, gentlemen, I got dated so hard. Just frickn blindsided by this girl.

I’m sort of happily stunned about the whole thing, how perfectly romcom-delightful it was. She made it so clear that she was attracted to me, no guessing games, just an absolutely lovely time. I’m a fan. More, please.

I’ve not forgotten about Firefighter Girl. On the contrary, I think about her constantly. She’s someone that I adore pursuing, drawing out, discovering bit by bit. But Lindy Girl, she’s someone I could easily fall for, easy like tripping into a hammock on a summer evening. Easy like peaches.

I swear to every god, I found this picture hours after I wrote this. DESTINY

I swear to every god, I found this picture hours after I wrote this. DESTINY

I’d say I fall in love too easily, but I like it too much to be disparaging or ashamed about it.



I Am Such A Nerd


English again. Firefighter Girl left yesterday. You know what I did before that, though? Two things.

1) We spent an evening together in a park on Commercial and I pussied out completely and did not kiss her even though I totally had so many fucking perfect chances

2) I told her I had a huge crush on her via text message because I’m awful

3) Because I hadn’t taken up enough of her precious time back in Van, I went to her work to give her a note that told her most of the things that I hadn’t been able to say in person, because as an English major, I am useless unless I’m on paper.

That’s why I’m a nerd. Because I had so many chances to be smooth and suave and perfect, and I blew all of them. BUT.

Today she texted me and said that she was glad I had stopped by her work that day.

I have spent the day in fully-motivated obnoxiously-happy mode.

I think it’s because, especially given my unorthodox work-stalking note maneuver and also first-move fuckups, I completely expect the worst every time I see her name on my phone screen. I think the words on the screen are going to say “Hey, you’re really nice and all, but I’m not feeling it. Have a nice life” and every time they don’t, I am euphorically happy.


essentially what I look like after (yet again) not being rejected

That’s all the revelations for today, folks.



Battleship Can Be Sexy


I have this luck with the ladies, see. I go on one date with ’em, and they skip town. No jokes. I kid not. About a month ago, I was crushin’ hard on a girl in my swing dancing class. I brought her soup and flowers when she was sick. I asked her out for dinner. She moved to Victoria.

sadcatAs a one-time, heartbruising thing, it wasn’t so bad. After she left I realized that as much as my pants were thoroughly charmed off by her sparkling eyes and adorably chipped-tooth smile, we were too different to have a real-life thing together. She didn’t have internet, barely had a phone, and didn’t drink, was super into hardcore natural everything…I admire that kind of dedication, but I also like soap. And Instagram.

So when I ask a girl from my English class last semester if she’d like to come out to the bar with me and a few friends, it’s a trial run. I’ve learned my lesson. But shit, she drinks beer, she’s cynical, she’s funny, and she’s moving to Kamloops for the summer to fight forest fires.

out the door

wait no what come back

So she leaves that weekend, for training, saying that she’ll be back in a week, for a week. I ask her to text me when she gets back in town, because I’d like to see her again. She does. We make a date. Nerd bar on Commercial Drive. It’s perfect. I am so fucking nervous.

I get there before she does, and get myself a beer, and try to calm the fuck down. All I want is for her to think I’m cool okay. She shows up, sits down, and she’s not wearing her glasses and holy shit her eyes are pretty.


I’mma just stare at your pretty self okay

So we caught up about the last week, about her training and lighting things on fire, and the conversation is good. Not awkward at all. I’m flirting with her, and she’s flirting back. Oh my god. I’m not sure if you’ve ever held eye contact with someone you’re interested in for a long time, but that shit is heart-pattering.

Things started heating up when we pulled some board games off the shelf. Battleship, oh baby. It was actually nice to take a break from one-on-one conversation and have something to talk about directly, like how hard it was getting to figure out which peg-board to look at because we were both a little tipsy.

the original game of lust and desire

the original game of lust and desire

The strange thing was, though, was that we played Apples to Apples with two people. I have never played a hotter game of Apples to Apples. This is mostly because Apples to Apples is a family friendly group game, and while there are generally mass amounts of sexual innuendos, there’s nothing like putting down two cards for “tasty” and having them be “Hillary Clinton” and “red raspberries” for a near-direct question of “so you are gay, right?”

they lesbianing together

Yes, that (and a few others) happened. That particular pairing was her, though. It turned into a “how well do I know you” kind of game, as (honour-system) you put down two cards for the other person’s green card and bet on the one that she’d pick. If you were right, you got the card. If you weren’t, it went to the side. It was really fun, and sweet, and I want to go back.

It was date, it went insanely well, I was actually going to kiss her goodnight but we ran into her friend when we were walking down the drive.

So essentially, this has been everything I’ve been thinking about for the past two days. When she texts me, I hold up the phone to my face and tell it sincerely “I LIKE YOU PLEASE LIKE ME BACK” before opening it and reading what she says. I am crushing so frickn hard. If you’re worried about updates, don’t even worry. You will have so many updates.

I mean, Flaky Hot Guy stood me up again, apparently we have a date for Monday now, but do I give a shit? 1) No, because really that’s the third time you stood me up, 2) No, because you’re not Firefighter Girl and 3) No, because you don’t have tits. Sorry.

Anxiously yours (please text me back NOW ugh),



“Today we pray those girls across the street find Jesus, instead of another random man.”


Okay, so right across the street from my house, literally door to door, is a Greek Orthodox Church. Now, I am pretty positive this church judges my household insanely from the amount of times they’ve seen haggard people emerging from our gate early Sunday mornings performing that wonderful old walk of “I just got laid” pride. But there are two certain stories which stick out in my mind which make me believe that this church probably prays weekly for their heathen young lady neighbors.

A few months ago, I’m sitting in my living room, minding my own business in front of our huge window facing the street and, therefore, the church, which is just about to start its morning service. There are people milling around outside, in the parking lot, all dressed in their sunday best, brushing the snow off themselves before they go inside. When I notice that someone is sticking out amongst them in the crowd. I can see my absolutely wonderful roommate and best friend walking through the parking lot to get home. And let me tell you, she certainly was looking her sunday best. Makeup smeared from the night before, wearing furry raver boot/leg warmer things, booty shorts, and a crop top underneath a hoodie with a broken zipper, with obvious post-coitus hair and carrying her high heels in her hand while she walks barefoot in the snow. It truly was a thing of beauty, she’s never looked so lovely. Everyone in the church was just staring at her as she went by, like she was the loch ness monster or something. I honestly need to tell you that some old woman sheltered the eyes of her grandson. I cannot make this shit up! I was absolutely cackling in my living room. To cap things off, making this experience one of my favourite Sunday mornings, ever. She sees me in the window, starts running into the house, busts open the door and screams at the top of her lungs “I GOT LAID!”

The Greek Orthodox Church had never been so scandalized.


Okay, the next story isn’t as public as the last one, but makes me laugh to the exact same extent. A while ago I had St. Patrick’s day boy back over again and we felt it was high time for some morning sex. And we had gotten a pretty good sleep the night before so it wasn’t simply lazy, we’re both tired but you’re sexy as shit sex, we were certainly going at it, and going at it good. So right as we’re hitting the climactic moments of our escapade, church bells start chiming, you can hear the doors burst open in the church and hear the last notes of some hymn being belted out of its congregation right as we hit orgasm. It was truly a majestic moment, that still makes me laugh whenever I think about it.

But in all honesty, in that moment, I truly felt like the Lord was praising me.

“Ya done good, girl. Ya done good.”

Love y’all,


You’re just a snore-whore.


(First can we talk about that title? Snore-whore is my new vocab word of 2014, I’m obsessed.)

So it has been an unfortunate series of events that some of my past sexual conquests have just been downright boring as shit in bed. I mean, my last partner engaged in the exact same position every single time we did it. Which is just depressing. Especially when I’m up there continuously trying to switch things up and he’s just content to lay back and do absolutely nothing. Especially when you damn well know he goes to the gym daily. If you lift weights all day you can lift me as well, damnit. That sort of sex really does not quench this girls thirst.

So obviously one needs to at least attempt to move onto bigger and better things, but really, looking back I’ve had a pretty poor track record.

I mean, can we talk about my first time? Even though it was thoroughly decided that sex with that current boyfriend would be commencing and I felt him moving on top of me, I had no idea we were even having sex. I felt a whole lot of absolutely nothing, zip, niltch, nadda. I remember being so bored I asked him “Is this lamp behind me plugged in? Like, could I turn it on if I wanted to?” Pillow talk. I’m the best at it. My sex appeal went through the roof at that comment I am sure. But in my defense, if I can’t feel anything, and it’s so dark I can’t see anything, how am I supposed to even remember my first time?

And although after a while I did actually begin to feel and obviously enjoy sex, it was always plain. We had sex “efficiently” but never in any exciting or new ways. Which y’know, I feel like unless people are super confident in themselves, just won’t happen a lot of the time. I’ve heard people say they are too scared to try new things with a partner because they don’t want to be judged if their partner isn’t into it, or completely fuck it up and lose their “veil of 100% sexy.” But seriously guys, sex is going to be awkward and clumsy and hilarious sometimes, which to me doesn’t make it lose it’s sexiness. Come on, someone who can laugh with you in bed is so much more sexy than someone who is putting on a sexy pout the whole time as they lay back like a fish and let you do all the work.

So I didn’t realize this post was going to involve a list, but looky-here it’s going to! All full of surprises. Possible ways to experiment and switch things up in the bedroom. Or maybe in the kitchen? Shower? Look at you already switching it up!

1) Suggest you watch porn together.

This way not only will you see just in general what they’re into when they suggest a certain video, but also just how they react to different things in the video will give you a heads up, even if they are too shy to actually say what they’re into. It’ll also just give you both new ideas of things to try out!

2) Buy a book like the kama sutra

And go through it together! You can check off ones that look amazingly awesome, and maybe decide okay, next time we have sex, we’ll try A, B and C. Or maybe try to go through the entire book of positions. If you really want to go for gold I know there is a 365 day challenge where every day for a year you try a new position in the book, which although can sound a little exhausting is like music to my ears.

3) Don’t be afraid to start putting even just a toe out of your comfort zone

Just start trying tamer things that can lead into whatever kinkier sex you may be into. Light bondage and roleplaying can be something totally new and exciting which can get you interested in exploring new ways of being all sexy. And trust me, they are super fun.

4) Just talk about it

Inside and outside of the bedroom, ladies and gentlemen. Although it could seem kind of weird to bring it up while just sitting at the kitchen table, I am sure you will not regret it! It’s also less impulsive, give you both time to talk out what you’re wanting and how to make it so you both can have mind blowing sex. And don’t be afraid to lay it all out on the table, if you’re not comfortable with telling them all your kinks then maybe it’s not an awesome pairing for ya?

So the moral of the story is there are definitely ways to more exciting sex! Whether it be communication with your current partner or just downright finding yourself a new one. The latter of which I’ve decided to do, and this new guy, who has already left bite marks on my neck after just dancing together at a club has a saying: “Fuck as if you’re fighting and you’ll never actually fight.”

Uhhhh, oh my god yes.

All of my super excited love,


Be Prepared (to Lay the Shit Outta Town)



When I go out, and there’s a chance I might not go home, I pack accordingly. It’s surprising how much knowing that I have the necessary supplies for a night of unexpected hanky-panky heightens my confidence in pursuing it. This way, I can’t chicken out because I don’t have a toothbrush. What if he doesn’t have condoms? I do. What’s that, you hate wearing day-old underwear? Me too, that’s why I pack an extra pair.

It’s a strategy. It makes me feel ready, like I could take anyone in the room home (metaphorically speaking) and rock their world. And then brush my teeth the next morning, smell nice, and not wear the same shirt I wore the night before. So here’s how I prepare myself for the possibility of not coming home. I’m sure people’s arsenals differ, but here’s what I throw in mine:

1. Deodorant: this is self explanatory. Mine is Tom’s All Natural Honeysuckle Rose deodorant, and smells divine.

2. Burts Bees disposable facial cloths. They smell nice, and I can swipe them under my arms (or wherever) if I don’t have access to a shower to freshen up the next morning.

3. Makeup Basics:

– Foundation/Face Primer: I’ve heard that BB cream is great for this too, but I have this tiny tester tube of Too Faced Face Primer, so I pack that and my L’Oreal mineral powder foundation. I’m a foundation girl, it has SPF in it, and it makes me look pretty.

– Blush: My foundation tones down the natural blush I already have, so I throw that in there to keep me lookin’ alive.

– White eyeliner: This goes in the lower rim of my eyes. If I haven’t gotten enough sleep, this makes me look awake. It’s an easy, quick fix.

-Lipstick: Yes, it’s a basic. For me. Whatever.

 4. Toothbrush: I have a tiny travel one with a cap, and one of those tiny tubes of toothpaste you get at the dentist.

5. Clean underwear: Thongs are small and pack easily in a pocket of your bag. Plus, they look nice when you’re putting them on.

6. Clean shirt: Not absolutely necessary, but it’s awfully nice to not have to wear the shirt you may or may not have sweated on profusely/spilled alcohol on/worn because it’s mesh/lace/super sexy for nighttime. My favourite thing to pack is my “Play Me Some Rock and Roll and Don’t Call Me Your Girlfriend” fitted tee that Archaeology got me (Arch, Comm, and I all have ’em), because I feel like it’s appropriate.

cat military

Another few things I do is make sure that I’m wearing sexy (preferably matching) lingerie underneath my clothes, that I’ve done a little bit of grooming, and that I’m not wearing a shit-tonne of eye makeup.

The last one seems counterproductive, but hear me out. Raccoon eye is unfortunate. I’ve definitely looked myself in the mirror and said “I would fuck the shit outta me” after coming out of someone’s bedroom without having worn any mascara or eyeliner the night before.

My getting-laid eye makeup is usually as follows:

– Smear “Too Faced Shadow Insurance” eyeshadow primer all over eyes
-Brush a light beige/cream eyeshadow (the highlighter on the palette) all over lid and browbone so that my eyelids don’t get shiny (personal peeve)

That’s it. Maybe I might put mascara on, but not usually. If I do, I pack Q-tips and a tiny spray bottle of makeup remover to get rid of what migrates during the night.

So, there you have it. This all usually fits in a medium-sized free cosmetic bag from one of those old-lady department stores or something. When I do all this, I feel fierce like a tiger.

scar is a fabulous bitch

like a motherfucking metaphorical tiger

Anyone else have pre-sexing strategies, or am I the only one that needs to persuade myself that I really am going to go out and seduce someone instead of staying home on the couch eating crisps? I’m okay either way.

Mad love,


Sexsomnia and Birds



So I was in Portland with an old friend of mine for the past week or so. Essentially, we walked further than I care to remember, drank lots of beer, coffee, and cocktails in mason jars, and ate a metric shit-tonne of food. I gained about eight pounds just for bikini season.


The first night we were there, we went to a bar called ‘Swift’. Everything had birds on it. We had a cute little Portlandia chuckle to ourselves and proceeded to get completely drunk off fancy bird-named cocktails in mason jars (you could get a 24oz jar cocktail, whaaat). In the midst of some cucumbery concoction, I misheard something that sparked a pretty cute conversation. It went like this:

Me: I thought you said “suddenly sucking pussy”.

BB: Well, no. I mean, I hope I’d be the first or at least the second one to know.

Me: “The second”

Me: I can’t even imagine

Me: It’s like “whoops, sorry, lost track of time, suddenly my face is in a pussy”

BB: Yeah, it’s like a weird form of sleepwalking.

laughing laughing

There’s a term for that. Sexsomnia. Now you know. But really, of all the sleeping disorders….anyways.

Expect many horny-as-fuck posts from this girl right here in the next little while. The whole trip, I practically had horns growing out of my head. Sigh.

every time

-so frustrating-

I don’t see sex on my horizon, so we’re gonna be a little frustrated in this corner of the block.

Exhausted love,