swag

just got home from work.

ughghghghghghg!!!!!!!!!! LOVE

good stripping song. i wish there was a download link :(

more goodness.

hahaha omg dalek drumstep!

fuck i love chrispy.

song has a good drop.

Daleks vs Cybermen

ahahaha. ya im 12. sorry.


Cyberman: You have declared war on the Cyberman.
Dalek: This is not war, this is pest control.

aahaha.

ahha

From Behind

in bed

bert is drunk again.

Oldie

true love

bum

shorts

lol weird commercial

lol a) how is this a kfc commerical?
b) why is a Dalek doing voiceover?

chillen

Creamy Bitch.

Love this song.

sup sup yall

so after i slept a solid ten years hehe im feeling a lot better.

and this morning i had to delete twitter from my phone and replace it with the LSAT test prep app for two reasons

a) as i get more followers im getting more trolls griping at me for pics. instead of dealing with this nonstop im going to deal with it from my computer when im sitting here working on website stuff.

b) i spend so much time on twitter lol. imagine if i spent that much time prepping for the LSATs?

anyways hope everyones having a kickass tuesday annnnd catch you all soons :)

xoxo
vero

blog

So if you follow me on twitter you might have noticed that I've been in a really bad mood since I came back from Newfoundland my lovely "vacation".

I fucking CRINGE when people use that word in reference to a high stress work week lol. It was a really stressful week for me and I haven't really had any time off since so I've been in this awful, awful mood. I feel like defeated, tired... angry. All the fun stuff. Things that normally annoy me make me want to cry or go to sleep lol. Its pretty bad.

Anyways HOW was Nfld stressful? Well I was there for work so that's what I was doing from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep. Also, everything was my responsibility. I had to make sure the photographer was happy (he was cool and super helpful) and I had to make sure we had places to shoot (not so awesome and helpful). All the while trying to appease my grandmother who was so excited she couldn't wait to whisk me off to unannounced family visits.

None of the things separately would be stressful but add all of the small things together and it was too much. If Outliers taught me anything its that most plane crashes come from 3 or 4 small things all added up. So I'd be trying to get some rest before my next photo shoot and my grandmother would kidnap me to "go get ice cream" oh yay ice cream! Oh wait, we're really not going for ice cream are we nan? No, no... You're bringing me for an hour of awkward conversation with family I don't know right before my next shoot. Thanks. Just, thanks.

Like how can I be mad that my grandmother wants me to visit family? I can't I love her, she's my nan. * suppressed anger insert here*.

Then I'd be right about to do a member chat when she'd bust into the room:

"Veronica its your mom"
"Well tell her I'm busy"
"No just take the call its polite"
"When have I ever given a fu- FINE"

* suppressed anger insert here"

Mom: "oh wow Vero, pretty shitty weather to be shooting in nfld isn't it? Ahahhahahahahahhaha sucks!!!"

* suppressed anger insert here*

Then we'd go to a location and it would start to rain. The photographer would remind me nicely we need x amount of photos done today. Yes, yes. I remember.

Sigh.

And everything cost so much so budget went haywire. The cost of food there is ridiculous, like beyond fine-dining in Toronto.

It rained and fogged and was miserable right up until the last day. But... I got everything I needed done and I'm pretty sure the photographer had an okay time and my nan was super happy we got to visit.

Success.

When I came back to Toronto the very next day was back to the grind at work.

Then I had a flurry of family/ friend obligations. I promised a gf I'd go to a wedding with her, so I went. At least I got to buy a dress for the occasion. It was so early, it was at 1130 am. I was so incredibly tired (I'm on stripper hours don't forget) so I'm just there trying to stay awake when her aunt comes over and asks me what I do for a living.

Do I say stripper or semi-pro vibe jammer? Quick, quick think!

Uh, stripper. You?

So then my friend comes up to me and says: So like literally you just told everyone in my family you're a stripper?? Good job.

Me: OOOOKKKK well when have I ever been one for subtleties if you didn't want them to know why didn't we discuss this MAYBE IN THE CAR RIDE HERE.

*suppressed anger*

Then yesterday I'm making a vlog and my roommate comments on my lishp. Thanks asshole. Of course she waited until the vlog was done and posted.

Its something like writing an essay, handing it in then realizing your friend who was taking notes gave you the wrong question so you have to do it all over again.

And of course works been shit. My "qualities" like looking 18 and being skinny with small tits have somehow become negatives. Plus the girls at work are all coked out and pimped out so when they speak to you its never pleasant. I assume its because they're used to being patronized and treated like shit by their pimp but I'm not used to someone barking orders at me so that always takes my mood down a notch.

Plus I got the bill for school with only ONE day to pay it in true University-administration fashion. I'm at the point where I really don't give a fuck if they un-enroll me. I requested an invoice to pay in April and they sent me one then sent me a refund for the payment I made. I just don't care anymore. I'm sick of fighting with these idiots.

 Anyways, like I said its not one thing in particular just a cavalcade of endless small things and no time to chill out that's been getting to me and I'm sure I'll get over it sooner than later. :P I wasn't going to write an entire blog to gripe about my shitty two weeks but I'm getting tired of dudes who troll my twitter for free tit pics whining that I haven't been the perfect fembot this week. So annoying.

anyways thats it y'all. catch u in my chat in ten minutes ;)

Choked.

vlog

slide to unlock

pussy

boobies in yo face

tonight

sup sup y'all. i had SUCH a lame ass night at work thursday night i decided to take today off. i had some appointments this morning that cut into my sleep so0o0 im running on like only a few hours anyway. decided to stay home and cam instead. thats like aka for a dr who / masturbation marathon.

here's a pic of me and bert chillen, enjoying our night off.

ass

my go to rip song

camming

p0w

supsup

red bra

#vicearmy

"Tell us who the hottest Canadian babes are! We're putting them in the new #topten 'tweet your votes to @olive_zzinsider'"


Can you guys please help me with this? If I make top ten I will release a PROFESSIONAL never before seen video for free ;)

xoxo
veronica

camming times.

morning.

Money

Money. Its a peculiar thing.

This morning my aunt texts me telling me that its my little cousins grade eight graduation and she's so excited, they just hit the spa last night in preparation.

The spa?

Hell grade eight grad I was lucky to get a nice dress and a pair of heels to match, I rounded up everyone in the family to pitch in on the project but shit the spa?

Heh.

It made me hate my mom all over again. We were fucking poor. Like beyond broke. Food banks and Goodwill and even then I only had one sweater for the whole year of grade six. I was left out from everything. I couldn't afford to go to birthday parties because I couldn't bring a gift, couldn't have friends over because our apartment was such a shithole et cetera, et cetera.

But anyways I grew up, got a job at thirteen at Subway Sandwiches making ten dolars an hour which was pretty decent ten years ago and I had more than a fair chunk of spending dough. Since then its been breezy. I learned really early the direct correlation between time and effort spent working and how much money I had. All of the work experience eventually helped me get a decent job at the hospital co-ordinating their diagnostic center in rehab. Three weeks paid vacation, a salary, benefits and even an assistant to help out if need be, but it was boring so I quit to strip. Yes that's how this story goes, I'm not trying to purple prose you into reading some self-pitying stripper story. I despise those.

But my relationship with cash has made me see both the highs and the lows and really think about what does money mean?

To me money has always been a token that you exchange to get what you really want. In grade two I had a pocket full of change that I gladly used to bribe a classmate into giving my best friend time on this Fishing Game that we all coveted. I only remember this because my teacher made a point of noticing. I can't remember if her praise was positive or negative but I do recall she was shocked. For years I couldn't understand why she would be surprised that I traded some change for quality time with a friend, but now I think I'm finally beginning to see. Money means different things to different people. Its laden with meaning and an experience that is unique to the individual, and whether the association with money is positive or negative is completely independent of how much money one has.

I was going to break it down into looking at the poor then looking at rich. But the determining factor on how you view money isn't whether you are rich or poor, but when you were such.

Most people don't grow up mega-rich. I doubt there is a large percentage of people reading this who are twenty-two years old on a yacht right now. Many of us can relate to the view point that hard work and lots of effort generally yields more cash. We all have that one brokeass friend who isn't going anywhere with his life because he refuses to get a job. Or that girlfriend that only dates rich guys because she herself refuses to go to school. We shake our heads and try to warn them of their dire-looking futures but often to our validation they strike out anyway. The lazy guy is stuck at the shit job forever, the hot but less ambitious girlfriend gets cheated on and left with three kids. We're constantly being proven right that the harder you work the more money you make. This isn't news and doesn't deserve a closer examination. You can grow up poor, work hard in school and have that Benz you always wanted. It won't affect your perception of the world, except to again, prove that hard work means more money. Yet most arguments in marriages are over money we are told time and time again. The husband spent too much money at the stripclub so you're upset. Not because of the money that was spent, you can afford it as a couple but the fact that he chose to spend the family's money on tits in his face. Which is really less about the tits and more about the simple principle that x percent of your money as a family has been dedicated to a selfish desire. This gets less and less apparent the more money the couple has not because money means less to the individual, but because the percentage drops. If $100 is 100% of your days earnings then spending that recklessly is much more significant than if $100 is 20% of the days earnings. So, naturally the club is often filled more with bankers and lawyers who can more emotionally afford to spend $100 on a whim with some friends. Money comes from hard work, so you expect your money to go into something useful and meaningful at least in most part and to not be withered away. Even at the lower ends of the bankroll spectrum money comes back to respect. If your wife spends reckless amounts of the family's money on designer shoes, certainly she cannot respect the hard work you have invested. Thus the common saying, "... must think money grows on trees" this implies that the person has a complete disregard of where the money comes from, which is often back to hard work and effort and time spent to obtain such riches. We expect people to acknowledge this. To understand that there has been a lot of work put in to obtaining things.

What about people who are born into money? How does it affect them?

I once had a customer at work sit down and tell me his life story. He started by telling me how he was kicked out at the young age of seventeen, had to raise himself from nothing. Shit, me too. Sorta, I mean I wasn't kicked out, I left. Left alone to survive in Boarding School. Wait, what? With hardly enough to afford his condo and a car. Oh fuck man, seriously? It was hard times, but now he's brought himself up to be a millionaire at the ripe young age of twenty-six.

He's rather typical, and I hate to admit that perhaps this is where my limits to dating come in. I have an entirely different view of what is reality so I find it hard to relate to the mega-privilegded. To me that all just sounds so Gossip Girl.

There's another regular at the bar, we'll call him Jeff for the simple respect of anonymity. Jeff grew up from old money and he'll be the first to tell you about his family's pride and honours. It's not what he's saying it's the situation in which it's being said. Jeff will tell you all about his family's name and what it means to be one of them. How he grew up an elite member of this club and that club. How his grandfather did this and that, the house that he inherited, the inheritance, how he took on his father's business. He will go on forever, you can get him into a booth and let him talk about his family's pride and accomplishments drunkenly for hours but no one does it more than once. The first and only time I took him for a dance I had to cut it at six songs. I just felt so fucking bad for the guy. He has this miserable life filled with these titles of prestige that don't mean anything to anyone except the people in these clubs. It's almost cult-like. He has this house in this expensive part of town that cost millions of dollars, that he wouldn't let go of in the divorce because it's his, and it has his name. He's alone, in this fifteen-bedroom house. All alone with his things. He has nothing to do but come to the bar and drink, and tell everyone about how great his honours are. To him money means status. It defines who he is. He is nothing without his things and it's easy to tell within five minutes of talking to him when you realize the complete lack of people he speaks of and the number times he mentions his car, his job, his house, his stuff. He was raised in a world where money is not only a means to an end but it is the end. It is the beginning and the middle and everything in between. You are nothing without status to him, and he's built his life around this viewpoint.

Perhaps money is like sex, if you crawl into bed with cash before you realize what it is and what you're doing you will end up with a perception of normalcy that is skewed slightly from the common view. Sleep with money too late however and your perception will also be jaded, your opinions ever so conservative.

There really is no point to this, I'm not saying that there's a magic number of cash that everyone should have to feel at ease with the world. There isn't a number that puts you into a happier category than someone else. It's just a look into the simple yet so bizarre realization that money is so fucking strange.

video still

pow.

hay

green sweater

hey :)

Happy Monday :D

>>see full set here<<

p0w

upside down

chillen

happy fathers day

powpow

preview pic

pow

teaser vid

xo

hai

so here's the deal.

im going to do my members chat tonight, but just to say hey since i miss the noods out of u guys. i cant jam myself with a vibe cause im at my nans house lol. hopin’ u understand :)



xoxo,



veronica

did you send me this?

If you did... I totally lost your return addy and!! I need your email address for the sexy time videos :) Send me an email with you info :)

Also, let me know what else was in the package so that I know for sure it's you.

xoxo,

veronica