Tag Archives: Fact

Xennial

The American public loves a good label, especially when it comes to classifying generations of its population.

We’ve all heard of baby boomers, which covers the Post-War period, and the cynicism of Generation X was immortalised in films like Singles and Reality Bites.

Traditionally, Gen X carries us up to 1979 and then we move into the buzzword of the moment, Millennials and Generation Z.

But, there’s a whole mini-generation born on the cusps of Generation X and the Millennials that doesn’t feel completely part of either one… #StoryOfMyLife

Don’t worry, if you were born between 1977 and 1985, there’s a special word just for you, Xennial! What are Xennials? That’s pretty much me, or in other words those born in the late-70s and early-80s, who lived an analog childhood and digital adulthood.

Xennials came of age at a pivotal point that makes them the lynchpin between Gen X and Millennials.

Generation X moved into adulthood without many of the digital conveniences we now have, while Millennials can’t imagine a world without them.

Xennials act as a memory bank, recalling what it was like before smartphones ruled the world, but comfortably Snapchatting and adapting to new methods of communications.

To be a Xennial is to have the best of both worlds, not bogged down by the cynicism of Generation X, but realistic enough to know that everything isn’t as Instagram perfect as Millennials think it is. 

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Mission Accomplished

So, I had a date with Deke the other night… A date in his hotel ’cause I needed some adventure.

Actually that was not the original plan but I’m a moody vampire, so I made his life easy ’cause after all I knew what he wanted, but specially I knew what I wanted and that was not having any story with someone who doesn’t even live full time in Montreal.

Visitors are for fun not to break your heart.

I made that mistake THREE times in the past and as an experienced creature full of scars, Deke was only my distraction of the night.

I didn’t let him fuck me, but I let him eat me out ’cause he was not good at talking so I gave him a second chance to make a first impression…

He was physically attractive, but nothing spectacular either.

I have better, so if I wasn’t posting about him I’d probably forget we ever met. 

After we cummed, I took a shower and got ready to go.

Overall I got what I was looking for, which was not spending my night off alone at home.

Dude was happy with my ass, and I was happy to walk around the city at night… 

I guess you can tell how solitary my life is by reading that I meet guys who want to fuck me, only to have some company. Regardless, mission accomplished.

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Another American

I’m not sure what’s going on but another American asked me out this morning…  I thought Mark2 would be an exception in my bed (because there’s not many Americans living in Montreal) but Deke (okay my first language is Spanish so the pronunciation of his name sounds like a prophesy to me, if you know what I mean…) is not giving up ’cause even if he doesn’t live here he comes often for work, and already tried to meet me before.

I didn’t like the idea of messing up with a visitor (’cause I already did it and we fell in love) but it’s my day off and I wanna go to the theatre even if I risk to finish in his hotel room…

Who knows? What I know is that Americans are slowly quitting their country, or seems like. For real I’ve never seen so many Americans in Montreal.

Regardless, all the hot ones are very welcome in my life!

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The Perfect finale

They came back for the perfect ending.

But in sport as in life, those exits don’t just happen, even to once-in-a-generation talents like theirs, especially in a discipline so vulnerable to the vagaries of judging allegiances.

When Canada’s favourite ice dancers won gold on Tuesday afternoon local time, it was an emotional affair.

This is likely their last Olympics.

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir already had a gold from Vancouver and a silver from Sochi, but came out of retirement in late 2016 for one more shot at an Olympic victory.

On Tuesday, they beat the French team of Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron, who are also their training partners in Montreal. The French skated before the Canadians and scored a world record 123.35 points for a low-key, technically proficient free dance. It gave them a two-dance total of 205.28, another world record.

But the Canadians finished with an extra new world record of 206.07.

Predictably, the Internet was overjoyed

The Olympic gold medals they won are emphatic symbols of their dominance, but more significantly of their relentless pursuit of perfection. Congratulations LEGENDS! 

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Pablo Escobar: My Father

Done! I finished this book yesterday.

Although I found the first half interesting (and debatable,) I got bored of Juan Pablo’s narrative.

Written by the son of Pablo Escobar (the most powerful drug lord and narcoterrorist that ever existed,) he clearly outlines the price the family had to pay for a life they did not choose.

At first, it was difficult to understand why his father was such a wanted man, then as he grew, Juan Pablo Escobar became very aware of his father’s criminal history of violence.

Overall this is a good book, however, I’m not sure how credible some of Juan Pablo’s recollections are, considering that he was only 16 when his father was killed… How much a teenager can understand of an international criminal enterprise?

From times the author tries to look badass, but most of the time he is apologetic… And I may sound like a jerk but I found him ANNOYING!

I have no doubts Juan Pablo is a decent man, he is also a victim… And all the shit he went through in exile in Argentina (with all the names he mentions that I’m familiar with) was malicious as hell.

Yet, I don’t buy his humble character. I don’t feel it (at least not in this book).

I feel more like he’s seeking empathy, and perhaps also trying to humanise a bit his dad’s image. I don’t condemn him and I don’t admire him.

What Juan Pablo makes me feel is complete indifference.

I believe we all transit our issues the best we can, and this was his way.

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I Hope You Like Cheese

Well well, it’s Valentine’s all over again. Probably my 3rd time without a boyfriend on this day, 5 words: I NEED A FACE LIFT!

This year, aside Mitch cute presence I may see Ricardo or Randy late night because nothing says romance like meaningful filthy sex. Also, Mark2 texted me yesterday to let me know he’ll be able this weekend…

I really love how open the new generation of straight guys are. A clear sing of evolution.

So, fixing some breakfast I came up with the creation above… that was all I had left in my fridge, I don’t even have water anymore… I know what are you all thinking, WHY AM I NOT SKINNY?! It’s beyond me, seriously.

Happy Valentine guys!!

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But… Who Are You?

I received this email today… While he remembers my smooth skin, at first, I didn’t know who this person was. Then I checked other emails and found him… This is a French guy I met last October. Checking also on my slut-diary (aka this blog,) I discovered I never blogged about him… he was cute, but perhaps not so amazing in bed. 

I don’t know if I want to see him but I believe everyone deserves a second chance.

I have such a big heart!!!

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