What if we thought about Sex like Shoe Sales?

Just, hear me out. 

So, let's agree, first, that most things in life exist on a spectrum. Right - wrong; feminine - masculine; gay - straight; monogamy - polyamory; you get the picture. 

Next, let's apply this to shoe sales. You can sell one of two pairs of shoes, each on opposite ends of the spectrum.

The first pair is magical. It's the every person's shoe. They are not only comfortable, but they are ergonomically designed to correct your posture which is the domino effect that improves your quality of life. The materials are ethically sourced, in fact, it's made of 90% recycled popscicle sticks (I don't know but I just at a popscicle so that's what you get). Employees are not only paid and treated fairly, they get full benefits including mental health support and doggy (& baby) daycare is provided by the company. The employee's hours are flexible and they are rewarded with quarterly financial bonuses - you get it, ok back to the shoes. They are completely odourless, even in the hottest of months, on the sweatiest, most hard-working feet. They are aesthetically beautiful, stylish, modern yet classy. You offer a variety of patterns and styles so that customers can have a pair for every outfit, because they do go with every outfit. You can do anything in these shoes! Lift weights, run, do yoga, go to the beach, climb a mountain, conquer world hunger... again, you get the picture. The shoes are dope. Everybody wants them. AND THEY COME BACK FOR MORE. When the shoes finally wear out, they come back to you for another pair because they LOVE them SO MUCH! They had such an incredible experience buying the shoes, because obviously your customer service dept is #onpoint, and wearing them out on the Camino De Santiago, that they come crawling back begging for a new pair, and willing to spend their hard earned money because they TRUST your business.

On the other end of the spectrum, you have a stinky ass pair of flimsy flip flops for sale. The materials you're using causes waste and pollution, your employees are treated like dirt, your customer service department blows poopsy bubble chunks, people are developing back problems and bunions from wearing your shoes, they're ugly AF. Like, I'm talking, worse than crocs. Yea, I went there. You can't even walk in a straight line in these shoes. They're uncomfortable, they stink, they make your feet stink in a way that makes your whole apartment stink worse than the cat lady's apartment down the hall. You used false advertising to sell the shoes and no one, I mean, NO ONE, is coming back for seconds. In fact, your return policy is nonexistant, and customers feel taken advantage of. Spoiler alert, you go out of business and everyone in your home town knows you as the ass hole business person that took advantage of the population at large. You are shunned from your village. (Unless you're a man in which case they shun the women than bought your shoes for being a slut).

WHAT KIND OF SHOES ARE YOU SELLING?!

Now that you've endured my metaphors, let's get right down to the nitty gritty of it. 

WHAT KIND OF SEX ARE YOU HAVING?!

See what I did there? Let me lay it out for you. Remember, we're on opposite sides of the spectrum here, for the purpose of making a point so just hang in there with me. 

You see a person you are innately attracted to. You feel the tectonic plates beneath you shifting to bring you closer, the stars aligning just right so that you could have met exactly now in this very moment. You respect this person. You offer them a gesture of kindness which they accept or don't - in which case you say "I wish you well" genuinely, and move on with your life because it's not mutual and that's okay. But for the purpose of this story... You offer this person emotional support, you are a team, you love them unconditionally, and the sex is magnificent. You use protection, you check in with them along the way to get that enthusiastic consent that is SO sexy, you both orgasm, you venture into unknown territory satisfying previously untold desires and kinks, it's pure magic. That person feels loved, they feel supported, they come back again and again, or not because sometimes a one night stand is fun, but again, for the purposes of the story... You had a great time, they had a great time, and the world is better for it because everybody had an orgasm and orgasms make people happy and happy people are kind people... you get it. 

OR, you meet someone who is obviously FUCKED on alcohol, drugs, and may or may not have some emotional trauma they're already working through; you take them back to your place. You fuck them without protection, or permission, after they've vomited in your bathroom - you didn't hold their hair. That person wakes up, groggy, hungover AF, no idea where they are, who you are, what happened the night before... They gather their things and leave, ashamed, regretful, deeply uncomfortable. They later find out that they have HPV which leads to cervical cancer and eventually kills them. Ok I went a little dark there but REMEMBER, we're on the other end of the spectrum here. To tone it down a bit, maybe you went on a date with someone and they said, I'm practicing celibacy right now, and you encouraged them to have a couple more drinks past their limit, knowing that might help your chances at getting lucky. Maybe they accepted your offer to come back to your place for one more drink but they said simply, "I don't want to have sex, we can do other stuff, but I don't want to have sex." and you somehow convince them to change their mind. They're going to leave feeling shitty about that experience. Is that what you want? Is it really worth traumatizing someone just to get your dick/pussy wet? 

Pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?

If you're going into business for yourself, and you want to build a successful business, my guess is that you'd sell the comfortable shoes, assuming you have morals. So why not look at sex the same way? Why wouldn't you give someone a safe and positive sexual experience littered with enthusiastic consent instead of one that leaves them feeling taken advantage of? I'll admit, I'm the Samantha of the group. I've had a lot of sex, but the overwhelming majority of those situations, I'd take back if I could. I came across a quote recently that said "No, doesn't mean 'convince me'" and it really stuck with me. 

I'm not a therapist, and I don't play one on TV, but there's something about growing up as a woman in this world that makes us believe that we're here for the pleasure of men. Something that prevents us from standing in our power and protecting ourselves from being taken advantage of. I respect that everyones feminism is different, but mine recognizes that although I should be able to be blackout wasted and half naked at the club by my self without being taken advantage of, that's not the world we live in. But it shouldn't be all about self defence either, let's get to the root of the problem. Which - if you ask me - is how we're raising young boys. We need to allow them to empathize with women, instead of telling them to shut down emotionally. I don't have a plan on how to do that.. I just think it's the little things.

If my niece is playing with my hair, trying different styles with clips and bows and my nephew wants in on that, I'm not going to tell him that's for girls, I'm gonna be like "yea, little dude, make me beautiful!" We need to talk about consent in school, so that boys and girls both know what that looks like. We need to let girls know that being labelled a "tease" is just like being labelled a "slut": stupid. We're allowed to be with multiple partners if it's safe and consensual, just like we're allowed to stop when we're no longer comfortable. We need to teach boys how to respond to that in a way that doesn't make the girl feel bad. We need to teach everyone how to masturbate, and that it's okay to do so! After all, how are you supposed to tell your partner what you do and don't like if you don't know! We need to make communication during sex, SEXY! "Are you okay?" "Do you like that?" "Tell me how you like it."

Sex education is important on so many levels, and just like taxes and credit and investing, we can't rely on our parents to teach us. It needs to happen in school. Learning about these things in a group setting - without separating the boys from the girls - can only help take away some of the awkwardness around it. It allows us to be there for each other. Like that kid who encouraged his fellow male classmates to bring pads/tampons to school to help their female classmates. Now more than ever, we need to understand each other because I think that is ultimately the yellow brick road to mutual respect. Aka less raping.

10 Things I Learned While Being Homeless

(Scroll Down To The Bottom If You're An Impatient Fuck)

Yes, you read that correctly. For the last four months I have been homeless. No, I was not sleeping on the streets, and thankfully only one night was spent in my truck, but I have been bouncing around between friends couches and taking the occasional male suitor up on their offer to eat a hot meal and sleep next to a warm body. 

Why didn't I just move home? Because I don't have a bedroom at home and my mother's crafting projects take up the living room that is couchless. Although I could have slept on my 14 year old brother's couch, I think that would have been a little weird for the both of us. Also, my mother lives a 45 minute drive outside of the city and if I wanted to find a job, I needed to be in the city and interview ready at all times. 

That being said, as soon as I got back to Toronto, I was applying to jobs like CRAZY. But my resume was clearly not standing out to anyone seeing as I only had two interviews (one of which was over the phone) during the months of July & August. I was, however, getting auditions left, right, and centre. 

I was broke, jobless, and homeless. BUT I had just recorded an EP; I had been asked to sing at a charity concert for Ovarian Cancer; I was booking paid acting gigs; I was asked to return to Vancouver Fashion Week as their Show Choreographer - which was paid; my guitarist and I were booked to play at a music festival* - also paid; and my family was just a short drive away if I wanted to see them. It was heaven. But I realized this lifestyle wouldn't last forever and couch surfing got tiring, so the universe finally provided to me, at the time I was ready to receive it, my dream job, and an apartment downtown Toronto with a place to park Bertha.* 

How did I end up here? Well, frankly, I fell in love. I fell for the idea that:

When you meet the right person, you’ll know.

I was honestly convinced that I would meet someone one day and everything would change. I would get butterflies in my stomach and I would know: this is the person I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. The fact that he lived across the country was somehow romantic, that he valued me for more than my body was new and made me feel like it was different this time. In retrospect I can count on one hand the amount of times someone has made me feel this way. Actually, it was one time, and his name was Chris Tulipano, and it was like 7 years ago.

So I fell in love, packed my truck, and drove from Toronto to Vancouver by myself. Well, I suppose my fish, Fuego Fire Le Poisson, counts as a passenger. I had spent the last of my savings on gas to get there so despite my better judgement, but mostly because I was desperate for work and didn't have time to look for something better, I went back to the hospitality industry as a server. I knew that this would bring me great unhappiness but I thought I'd be okay. I also had a feeling that monogamy was not for me, but I was so head over heels for this guy, I had to give it a shot. I had no social life, and I missed my family more than I thought possible. I had just started rebuilding a broken relationship with my brother and the guilt I carried for having left at such a crucial time made me feel sick. I couldn't even pick up the phone and call because I feared bursting into tears. This, coming from a girl who doesn't say "I miss you" because I'd never felt that feeling for anyone other than my dad ever since he passed away. I was having anxiety attacks regularly, and if I'd made it through the day without crying, I considered it a success. In a teary mess at work one day, I actually told my manager that I felt trapped. I had admitted it out loud. Which made it all too real. I sought help from a medical professional who told me I was crazy for moving out there. That was helpful 🙄. 

I had planned a trip home in June but as the dates approached and my bank account remained empty I thought it was never going to happen. Thankfully with the help of my incredibly patient and generous boyfriend at the time, and my aunt, I was able to fly home to Toronto and stop in Calgary to visit some family on the way. I spent a lot of the time up at my nana's cottage helping her pack as they were in the process of moving and felt incredibly grateful to her for a safe, peaceful space for me to sort through my emotions. On my first day back my nephew said, "Can I give you a kiss tía kiki? Cause it's been a long time since I could give you a kiss." A few days later my other nephew said, excitedly, "Are you gonna be here when I wake up in the morning? And when I come back from school? You should stay for five weeks." I realized that I missed them as much as they missed me. I didn't think the distance would affect them at such a young age, but it did, and my heart broke for all the months I'd spent a way. After a few weeks it was clear that I needed to move home. My family needed me, and honestly, I needed them, too. 

I called my boyfriend to let him know I needed to move home and he wasn't surprised. My mental health was not in a good place; I knew I needed my support system back. So I flew back to Vancouver - borrowing money from a dear old friend - packed up my truck, and found a few people on craigslist to share the financial burden and driving responsibilities of road-tripping back to Toronto. It was a wild drive and I made some incredible friends. 

When I got back to Toronto, my friends and family welcomed me with open arms. I overstayed my welcome at a number of homes but the most incredible thing happened: my friendships blossomed. When you live in a big city and everyone has a job or kids or whatever, it's hard to find time to spend with each other and you end up spending most of your time catching up on life's events rather than creating new memories. Crashing on my friends couches (sometimes I even got to sleep in their beds 😏 - shout out to Nicole, Katelyn, & Aisha #namedropping) meant that we spent so much more quality time together. I will be forever grateful for this experience because of the friendships I've strengthened. 

It would have been so easy to look at things from a negative perspective, like, I was fucking homeless. People who live on the street would ask me for change and I'd be like dude, I'm rollerblading to work because I can't afford the TTC. I met with my financial advisor when I got back to the city and he said "Wow! You look really thin!" I was like "Thanks! I can't afford to eat, so......😅" 

I chose to find the silver lining* in the same way that I looked at my debt in a positive way. To the people who leant me money (and to whom I still owe money) - shout out to Mom, Aunt Bonnie, Nana, Jamie, & Kirsten - I will pay you back, I appreciate your patience, I love you, and your generosity showed me that you really have my back. I am so incredibly grateful to the kindhearted circle of friends and family I have cultivated over the years and I hope you know that I would do the same for you. In a heartbeat. No questions ask. I'll even help you bury the body. 

SO - The Kohl's Notes, for you impatient fucks.

  1. Sleeping in your truck requires layers. The nights are cold and the sun is hot. 
  2. Accepting invitations to go on dates is a great way ensure you eat that day.
  3. Co-parenting a fish requires trust and communication.
  4. Seeking therapy is healthy, but sometimes doctors are assholes.
  5. Alone time is greatly underrated and under appreciated.
  6. It's ok to owe people money, but make sure your debts are paid before going on vacation.
  7. Living out of your truck is great for last minute weather related wardrobe changes.
  8. Sleeping on your friends' couches is how drunken rap songs are made.
  9. Being homeless for four months means you get to eat four times as much at Thanksgiving.
  10. Family is irreplaceable and should always come first. #familyfirst

*Bertha is my truck. I basically inherited her from my grandfather. 

*The festival ended up cutting us from the list without even telling me. I was heartbroken. I also got on the wrong bus that day and ended up going an hour in the opposite direction and then missing my flight to Vancouver in the morning because the volume on my alarm was set too low that I didn't hear it. Then I got to Vancouver and the next morning spent 30 minutes trying to hail a fucking cab. Needless to say that little piece of news set things in a turbulent direction. 

*I probably couldn't do that in Vancouver because they don't have Uber. Just saying. Getting a taxi in that fucking city was the bane of my existence. 

The Eleventh Hour

To me, Remembrance Day is about more than commemorating those who fought for our freedom during the world wars. It's about celebrating those who continue to do so today.

There is an army of heroes who dedicate their lives to ensuring our safety on a daily basis.

Police officers may have a bad rep, and I'm not saying that there aren't some individuals who don't belong in our police force. I'm not trying to take away from those who have been unfairly treated - and in many cases killed - because an officer made an error in judgement. I'm not saying that arrogance doesn't stem from newfound power. I'm not saying that peaceful protests haven't been abruptly and violently shut down unnecessarily.

I'm saying that the world would be chaos without order.


We find comfort in knowing that the bad guys will get caught.
That somebody is working on keeping our streets safe.
And that somebody will come to our rescue in a moment of need.


Firefighters are especially my heroes.
The dedication, determination, and fearlessness that these individuals possess

is baffling.


I have a special relationship with firefighters.
15 years ago, my family home caught on fire. This was the home in which I baked cookies with my Easy-Bake-Oven for my dad, my uncle, and their friends as they built the addition one two-by-four at a time. At the time of it's destruction, my dad was the only person inside; he was asleep, and we can only assume the fumes took his life before the flames. It happened in the middle of the night - the fire department wasn't called until morning. So, although they weren't afforded the opportunity to save my dad, I find comfort in knowing that they have been fruitful in efforts to save the loved ones of others.
In the past, I made it a tradition to visit the local fire station (of whatever city I called home at the time) on the anniversary of his passing.
I'd bring baked goods and they would graciously take a moment to hear my story. My purpose was to thank them for the daily sacrifices they make in order to make sure that others don't find themselves in my situation.

This year I decided to make a new tradition. Instead of showing gratitude for my heroes, I decided to start being a hero in my own right - I donated blood for the first time. My blood type is O Negative, so I'm a universal blood donor. It feels really good to be making a difference in the lives of others in my own way. No matter what, the days leading up to January 28th are anxiety-ridden and incredibly emotional, but donating blood that day gives me something to look forward to, so admittedly, there is a selfish element to it.

Being a firefighter however, is selfless.
They mindfully put their own lives in danger to save the lives of others.
I can't imagine what it must be like for their families.
Always knowing in the back of their minds that this person that they care for so deeply, that they depend on, might not come home at the end of the day.
These people are so strong, and they need to know how much we appreciate them.


We all second guess ourselves at one time or another - is this job really for me? Is it worth it? Is it meaningful?
I know that the only way I can keep going is to say yes, yes, and yes.
So I hope that by showing my appreciation, it reminds them that it's all worth it.
The friends they have lost in the line of duty, the relationships they've sacrificed, the long gruelling hours of training, waiting, and working; I think I speak for many when I say "Thank you".


I'd like to note that I know little about being a firefighter.
But I know a lot about what it would be like without them.

We take this day to be grateful for the sacrifices made by our ancestors

, but this gratitude should resonate within us every day. We have been afforded an incredible foundation on which to stand - it's up to us to make it worthwhile.