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19 Jun
English: Hua Shou. Expression of the fourteen ...

English: Hua Shou. Expression of the fourteen meridians. (Tokyo, 1716). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

OK no joke. Some crazy shit has been happening to me in the last few weeks.

– took possession of our new house on Friday.
– all kinds of excitement over the weekend.
– been stressed at work, it’s the season c’est usual.
– been dealing with kinds of banking and legal stuff to get our house in order and closing of our current place.

But that isn’t the cray-cray shit that has really been going on. It’s been my HEAD. My poor little head has been suffering in the last week, like EVERY day these amazing, awesome, headaches, combined with an annoying ear pressure feeling. I kept popping my ears all week to release to insane pressure that was making my head so tense and heavy. Not a migraine. Not sinus . I’ve taken all the drugs, nada help.  All ruled out by my medical doctor today. He looked at me, checked all my eyes and motor skills and said “I don’t know what is wrong with you, come back in a week and MRI is last resort”. That was disappointing cause I want answers.

On top of that in the last 48 hours I stubbed my big toe on a closet door. The pain was so immense, I cried like a baby. And then this morning that same poor F-ing toe got an ass kick as my heavy wooden back brush LANDED on it. I cried not like a baby but like a bitch, like a wailing bitch, in fetal position not being able to breathe.  My husband thought I was being attacked by someone in the house and scared the living day lights out of him. (mind you all this went down at 6AM this morning.. poor guy). So I’ve been high on Advil today. (Oh and may I add, I had to wear heels today and present to 40 customers and look normal) .

Back to my headache…cause I couldn’t care less about my toe compared to the craziness this head issue is causing me. I always go to my acupunturist in Chinatown when I feel nothing else will help and it becomes my last resort. Really she should always be my first resort, I guess I just kind of hate needles.

This is what happened:

She did the craziest thing. She pricked my middle finger with a needle and kept pushing out the blood and squeezing it. I didn’t know what she was doing but she kept asking me if the pressure in my head was releasing. And I couldn’t believe it, after a while the pressure started actually getting less and less. Something definitely in my head was changing! She claimed that I had bad blood stuck in my circulation and it was causing my head pressure not to be released. The Chinese know their shit.

Then she had me lay face down while she pin-headed me all over my neck and head and hand on all my pressure points where I was feeling tension. I must have had about 20 needles. I lay there for 30 min under a heat lamp while my headache slowly was evolving. All the blood was rushing down to my head since I was face down so I couldn’t really tell what was going on. All I know is that I couldn’t move a muscle. If I fidgeted,  it hurt a lot because the needles were hitting my pressure points and it was SO sensitive, so basically I had to be paralyzed and lay still completely…that part was really hard.

The result?

I feel waaaaaay better. Like, I couldn’t be happier right now. The pressure is much lighter, the feeling of any release at this point, from a week of feeling like ass, it the greatest feeling right now. I have to come back for one more session this weekend, and I’m convinced I’ll be 100% again. I had to blog about this experience and share it with you all.


Youngabunga xo


junk but not in my trunk.

28 Apr
Logo of the band "The Junk Bonds" Po...

Logo of the band "The Junk Bonds" Português: logotipo da banda "The Junk Bonds" (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m yawning as I type this. I’m so tired, but this post is a very welcomed escape from my current reality right now.

I am de-cluttering, cleaning, re-organizing, purging, our place to prepare it for our home showings next week as it’s going on the market pronto.

What they call ‘staging’ the house at best and we’re the ones behind the curtains running around screaming, making sure every single detail is showcased, highlighted and centre-staged and spot-lighted.

I’ve been complaining all day to myself and Chris how much I hate all this. How much I loathe going through junk and re-sorting items painfully as if I were separating green M&Ms from the rainbow spectrum for Mariah Carey or something.  Chris groans too throughout the day, having many cigarette breaks more than usual or  taking his sweet-arse time in the bathroom as  if his life depended on it. But no fooling me, I know what he’s avoiding as much as possible!

But we team it up. We step up our game. We remind ourselves that we’re MOVING into our next great home and this is peanut pain compared to the exciting future of us getting our new house. OUR new place! Not mine, or his, but the one we found together in our painful adventure of house hunting in the city of Toronto.  Yes I say, YES! And I slap myself and get my ass moving, back to cleaning, sorting, purging, staging.

But before I do that, I realize that I’m surrounded by junk. So much of it. The pile at my 3 o’clock are old pictures, some in frames, albums and some loose. I am 15 years old in that picture and I am hugging my best friend in highschool whom I don’t talk to anymore. The pile at one o’clock is a love letter that Chris found, but not his to me, instead it’s from a dysfunctional ex-boyfriend that I somehow kept. We read it out loud together and we have a good laugh cause it’s so absurd how different our lives are right now from memory lane. We honour it then decide its garbage and toss it goes.

I find photo’s of my brother and me from our childhood, my parents who seem ageless at that the time, helping me blow out candles for my 8th birthday. So this is not all junk. These are treasures.

The junk is clearly the left pile, where I spend $6.99 apparently on a package of Feng shui candles or the loads of Christmas cards, 6 different kinds of boxes that I will never use again, as those were all ready given away to friends. How lame would it be to keep them and forget by re-sending the same card that they received in the Christmas of 2008?! Maybe for laughs I’ll just do that. And why do I have a bag of 8 small wheel things?! Do they belong to some piece of furniture? Why did I keep these? There must be some reason…

And so I end this blog by getting myself back to work! I search for coconut water to get my electrolytes going as I have 2 more rooms to conquer!

So I will get back to putting the pieces of my personal timeline from the days of grade school, highschool, divorces and ex-BFs behind. Some to be never seen again and some to be kept safe for a life time. Despite the hate on for the work I must do right now, I’ve somehow found happiness in all this as a spiritual exercise of getting rid of the old, being so grateful with the present, and all of this and more so that I can envision our exciting future together!


youngabunga xo


Failing feels good.

3 Apr
Pork, pork and more pork

Pork, pork and more pork (Photo credit: su-lin)

Where have I been you ask?

Well, in the last several weeks I was in a cave, some dark hole, isolated and alone, so very alone. That is how it felt.  You see, I’ve been going through my annual liver detox. This would be my third year committing to this. WHY in God’s name you ask? For real, it is to reset my liver function, in hopes to reset my hormone balance, in hopes to rid of a health irritation that I could live without.  So you can stop crying cause I don’t have gout and I’m not dying. Just an innocent liver cleanse that seemed to work wonders last time and really does accomplishes its sole purpose. And so I re-live it.

Here is how it goes down:

– NO sugar, NO, Dairy, including eggs, NO gluten (good-bye all wonderful wheats of any kind and basic sandwich breads), NO red meat & pork, No F’n Caffeine, NO ALLLCOHOL! No Corn and not even tomatoes. No life. All this for 14 days I had to do this, while taking these insane horse-sized capsule supplements to enhance your liver cleanse 3 times a day. (For those curious, please this is not self inflicted, but taking Doctor’s orders)

I was socially divided. I couldn’t go out and enjoy my wonderful culinary delights, nor be in the company of my good friends. It was too much torture and unbearable to watch them enjoy their meals, lick their fingers and wash it down with a wonderful glass of red wine. Just too much. In fact, it was just plain mean. I kept watching movies, tv shows, anything to distract me from feeling a craving of any sorts.

And I couldn’t be around people, because no one really wanted to be around me. I wasn’t fun at all.  In this dark cave of mine, I was a horrible person in company. I was a BITCH, just a Debbie downer, short-tempered, and irritable all the time.  Come on, I couldn’t even have a sip of my wonderful cup of COFFEE in the mornings, this ritual, that I so value and let me tell you, that can change a person forever. So mornings were the worst.   I’m really impressed with my husband cause he’s still around.

I had to motivate myself day by day, remembering how amazing I felt when it was all done. You know, the white eyeballs, the fresh and glorious skin with glow, a healthy pink tongue. Shiny, glossy, full hair. And most of all how good I felt in the inside. Yes, it IS worth it I told myself, and  I can do this again, I can, I can ….

And so far so good! Until day 11. 😦

I was business travelling, in the airport, and I was STARVING. I needed to eat something or I wouldn’t be able to walk to my gate. I found a sandwich/soup shop, that looked pretty healthy and bought the pesto chicken wrap that seemed to have all the elements I was allowed to eat, except for the whole wheat wrap, cause gloomy gluten will get me.  I carefully ate everything inside, one by one, picking up the chicken bits with a fork.  I was being stared at, probably eyes rolling as they whispered “carb fanatic bitch”.  And as I wasn’t paying attention eating, I accidentally ate part of the wrap. Shoot. I ate another bite, and another, and ANOTHER! It was soooooo good! Airport food never tasted this amazing. So now you can tell at this point, I am just delirious. It made so much sense, the bread WITH the chicken pesto, like they couldn’t be apart and should remain together in holy digestion.

And from that point on, it slowly went down, down. Rules were being broken one by one. Until the real TSN turning point was when I met up with friends in the city at a lovely restaurant and then it was ALL OVER. I drank a fancy bourbon sour. I ate a gluten crusted fish. I finished it with some fancy chocolate delight and some more. It felt like the best meal of my life as I downed each bite with full gratitude and appreciation. I remember how the raspberry sorbet’s sweet and sour flavours engulfed my taste buds. It was a gift.

Clearly a detox fail. But hey 11 days in my books was good enough. When I flew back home, I was so excited to tell my husband how I failed! I was so happy delivering my disappointing news. We celebrated!! We opened a great bottle of wine, did some happy dance, because it was a win-win again for all. No more bitchiness, no more accommodating meals and bull-shit recipes, no more isolation and hiding from anyone remotely interesting! I was my self again and going out and enjoying a cocktail and having fulfilling conversations.  It was just awesome freedom!

Failing never felt so damn good. That’s where I’ve been.


Youngabunga xoxo

Frenemies. Love to loathe them.

7 Mar
My Frenemy

My Frenemy (Photo credit: andymangold)

Alright. Let’s talk about Frenemies.

This post is dedicated to all the men in my life. If you are a man, most likely a friend of mine reading this, I’m about to share with you a very helpful tip on REALLY understanding women. If you are a woman reading this, you will thank me for sharing with our male companions who can, sadly have moments of complete non-self awareness. You can throw this in his face and say ‘SEE?  You feel me now?!’

This was a hot topic with a few girlfriends of mine as I shared with them my big time angst moment of my hubs absolutely peeving me off in an argument that had to do with a Frenemy of mine. An argument he will never win. He did the most unthinkable thing you should never do when it comes a wife’s Frenemy: He complimented the F-ing Frenemy. In fact, he told her how great she looked  and blah blah blah he just totally went there.  So now I feel like its my duty to share. I was deeply encouraged to post this.

Let’s first define a Frenemy so we don’t lose each other here.

A FRENEMY is someone maybe in your current life, or past, usually from your childhood where you’ve always secretly disliked growing up. There’s an old history between you two. You know, your not so publicized nemesis you have an immense hate-on for, and it’s usually both ways that you feel this way about each other. And it ain’t good warm feelings. No way. Instead they are feelings of shitness: I-can’t-stand-you-and- everything-you-say-or-do-I-think-you-suck-ass-and-can’t-believe-OUR-common friend-likes you-for-some-warped-reason. So it remains to be this fake interaction as it has to be to keep some peace.

You simply dislike this Frenemy, always have, and most likely always will. And it’s because it’s so deep-rooted, as it goes way back to the memories of your early teens or precious young years of growing up.  You can’t let go of that time how they tried to F you over in school, or when they tried to throw you under the bus because of their selfish ways to always want to win, or the time they were so competitive and jealous of you because they couldn’t stand your success in any way, as your happiness ate them alive inside. If they weren’t #1, then everyone else had to eat shit. The Frenemy is the opposite of who you consider yourself as a person today. Opposite of your core values, and perhaps that is the reason they drive you insane and you can’t help but judge them constantly.

But the ‘FRE’ is there for a very sad and frustrating reason. You most likely still have that common Friend, or common social circle and you’ve managed to somehow never leave each other’s lives because of this unfortunate bond you can’t seem to control, change or sadly break off. Therefore the Frenemy is your secret hate on for each other that has never been publicly announced (because yes you are civil and mature) and it has to be that way so it never gets anymore awkward than it already is when you have to socialize with them, when really, all  you just want to do is prance on them like a cat and pull their hair when something really offensive comes out of their mouth!

I find Frenemies fascinating because somehow with all the life experiences being in your thirty’s, acting as a mature adult (in most cases), one can’t seem to let go of the angst you feel towards them. It stays with you, this deep emotional anchor that will never leave you when you interact with them. It just lingers there, like how victims of bullying must feel even when they grow older. It just doesn’t ever really go away.

So back to our men. A few rules for you if you want to save yourself from a future emotionally exhausting argument with your wife or girlfriend that you will never win and can totally be avoided but only if you listen carefully.

Rule 1. Never, and I mean NEVER in front of your girlfriend or your wife pay the Frenemy a compliment. Even if you really mean it. Which is even worse. Inside, your woman’s blood is boiling, her ears start steaming and you won’t know what’s going on until she blows her shit up on you as soon as you get into  private corridors. It’s just not smart dude. The Frenemy NEVER deserves credit! Your woman needs to feel that your alliance to her is exactly that- Loyalty is such an important thing. We don’t want Frenemies to feel good about themselves ever no way! It’s karma for all the credits they tried or still try to steal from you. Even if you don’t know what the F is going on, just trust her and just please go with it. God, it’s not rocket science.

Rule 2.  Don’t you dare get all self-righteous and bust out the 10 commandments and start lecturing your gf/wife of how this ‘hatred has CONSUMED her’ and how ‘Forgiveness‘ is to let go. Omg. If you do this, I must warn you that, at this point, she just might go ape shit on you and you will be responsible of creating some evil wrath you never knew they were capable of. And that will be all you fault.

Rule 3. Can’t you just TRUST your woman’s judgement? I mean if there is any reason why your loving, amazing, positive wife/gf, might just really dislike someone is for um a REALLY GOOD reason. Don’t ever pull the “well she was nice to me and I don’t see what you mean about her” For crap’s sake, you’re really judging their character in all of 2 mere meaningless social encounters? Pulease. I mean the German nazi followers loved Hitler. So that must mean he was alright. geesh.

And so that is it folks. Very simple rules, follow them and you’ll avoid world war III 🙂 My wonderful man learned the hard way. And I guess because he’s so loving and see’s the world in clear, big beautiful eyes, it’s not his fault.

Whatever, it totally is.


Youngabunga! xo

that, i love entry 3- Fur (brrrr)

5 Jan

Say what?! Did I say FUR? Fur fur fur fur fur. Screw you, I LOVE fur! I love the way it feels on my skin. I love the immense warmth it brings as it hugs my neck, my head when I pull over my fur-lined hood that is attached to my down jacket. I love it I love it I love it and I will not apologize if I offended you furry lovers. If you’re curious, I’m talking about my rabbit fur here.

When did fur also become so faux pas that when we say ‘It’s real fur’, you get people’s faces look like they are constipated as if you killed their cat? Let’s be honest, the imitation fur is really bad. I mean, it really does look like shit. It looks like someone’s dirty plush animal toy that hasn’t been washed in years. And it feels so rough on the skin and ain’t that warm at all. I don’t like it, the technology hasn’t arrived yet, where we can imitate the warmth, and texture of real fur. It’s irreplaceable really.

Let’s back track a bit so there is no misunderstanding.

I love furry animals. All kinds. And I don’t believe in the killing of animals for just the sake of their fur. That does bother me, and I would hate to support any profits made anyone if it’s taking life of our furry creatures only in vain. That isn’t cool. But there are a couple of things and so many arguments I can open up here. We eat cow, so most wear leather too. We eat rabbit (not most but it’s widely available at all butchers), and what happens to their fur? Might as well, just like leather go not wasted. Sustainable, responsible and ethical treatment of animals that is supported by the national wildlife departments is the first source to understand where your fur is coming from in the industry.

Mind you, there are industries in itself that don’t use the by-product of the animals from food sourcing. The cattle industry I also know kill the cows just for their skins not even for their meat. That makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.

I know as much as I love fur, I will not ever buy mink, or those exotic animals that clearly are not part of the usual human food chain of meats we consume.

And more importantly kids we’re in Canada. Freakin cold out here. How do you think our native ancestors survived up north without freezing to death? Fur has been a gift. I will wear my rabbit fur responsibly, trusting where it came from and how it was ethically sourced from industry and government guidelines.  Info is never perfect but you can only try your best.

Until I am a vegan one day (really that won’t happen), I may reconsider wearing my beautiful, warm, rabbit hooded-collar coat.

I’d like to give a quick shout out to those who wear the ugly-but functionally warm,  Canada Goose Jackets. Thank the Coyote keeping your heads oh so very warm.

Fur (not all of them) that, I really love.


Youngabunga. xo





that, i love entry 2- Arctic Char Ceviche

13 Dec

Things I love continue, part deux! I’ve now realized that I need to start documenting all moments of endearment and happiness as it happens in real time. I might be laughing at something, eating something, whatever I’m doing, I realized if I don’t log it on my phone its poof.. gone from my mind and as I get older (arrgh) it takes me a while to recall things. But this entry I can tell you, no logging was required, as it stayed with me all night, before I went to bed, and still cherished it in the morning when I woke up.

Last night my husband and I had dinner with an good friend and her lovely fiancee, both visiting from out of town. We recommended Foxley Bistro Restaurant on Ossington. It IS hands down one of my favorite restaurants in the city of Toronto. Every time Chris and I eat there, it never disappoints and is always so god damn good.

It’s asian-fushion tapas style and they always have that smack down right. Every dish there is full of strong wonderful flavours, be it a million diced up shallots caramelized in duck confit, spread over duck breast with sweet soy or how about the pork belly braised until its fat becomes super crispy and has soaked in all the sauce and marinade, leaving you with this salty, buttery taste as it breaks apart in your mouth. I can go on and on. But there is particularity ONE dish at this restaurant that I find myself actually salivating when I think about it. And this, behold, makes entry 2 on my ‘that, i love’ list.

The Arctic Char Ceviche.

Holy dish it is.

When it comes to you at your table, the bright orange florescence of the fish is highlighted by the beautiful gold liquid oil it’s been slowly immersed in, just bathing, having a great time as it knows, its so teasing you, and you can’t resist. Surrounding it, is chopped fresh ginger, finely diced green onion and very, very, thin twig like apple slices just piled on top like a camp side fire.

When you pick up one of the char pieces, each piece is thin and wide. Thinner than a typical sashimi slice, but has that that same texture, just smoother with the oils and at room temperature in your mouth. And it drapes over your chopstick like beautiful blanket.

And the incredible FLAVOUR when it touches your mouth! You get this EXPLOSION of pungent ginger, sweet tangy sourly apple and the sharp savoury green onions on your taste buds mixed all together, like some kind of perfect harmony song. At first, you cannot believe this is happening to you because its nothing like you’ve ever tasted. I almost believe that the combination of these flavours is a some evil genius who created them, knowing that you’d be hooked for life and a slave to it forever.

And a slave I have become of it. And I don’t mind. We, don’t mind. We’ve been trying to figure out each ingredient if we dare try replicating it at home. But me thinks we should not attempt it because I know that the utter joy I feel every time I eat it is one of my favorite things in this world, and if I were to F it up with my own sad version of it, then… ugh I cannot even think it.

The Arctic Char Cheviche at Foxleys, that I love, entry 2.


Youngabunga xoxo

that, i love. entry 1 – Clean. Fresh. Laundered. Sheets.

6 Dec

I’ve decided to start logging the things once a week that I’ve fallen in love with. Not only will I just merely blog it, but I’m going to describe in every painstaking detail the best I can to convey the absolute joy it brings me. No, I’m not talking about falling in love with people because if I love you, chances are you already know it and have heard enough about it. What I’m talking about is the most random or deliberate things that make you so happy in the moment regardless of how significant or insignificant it is. Just things! Things in this world, that I am just so freakin grateful for because a) it’s released endorphins that has oozed out of my mind or b) gives me the most pleasant feeling of sensation…be it, my tangy taste buds, texture from touch or whatever. We could totally get dirty here, but let’s stay on the PG path shall we?

that, i love entry 1…

Clean. Fresh. Laundered. Sheets.

That’s right. Sheets. The one you sleep on in your bed, every night, at home. Or maybe in a hotel. Where ever you are in the god damn world, just as long as they are once again: Clean. Fresh. Laundry. Sheets. Bonus if they are over 500 TC. And another bonus if you sleep with a down-fill duvet with a down fill king size pillows.

One of the chores I hate the most at home is actually changing the bed sheets. You’ve got all kinds of layers that seem endless. The cover sheet on the mattress, the mattress cover you occasionally have to clean too but not as much, the in between actual sheet itself, then the sheet cover over the duvet, and of course finally the sheet pillow cases not  just the 1 but all 4 of my pillows. That’s like 8 !@# things! And I bet if you work hard enough, with steady pace and focus you’re burning about 40 calories just changing them.

But I dare not complain..because I know, after a little bit of sweat work, all of it, ALL of it will pay off…

… once I slide my self into the Clean. Fresh. Laundered. Sheets. The smell refreshes me entirely. It takes me away to this green fields, where I am frolicking across meadows, and in this vision I also see fuzzy sheep that smile at me and just want hugs. I take deep breaths in multiple times as I submerge myself in the cool, cold feeling of these smooth as silk sheets that envelope me with pure, unconditional love. I then proceed to roll in and plant my face deep into my sleeping pillow and let the soft down fill indent my face and mould it perfectly with my head until it decides when it wants me to sink no more.  I spread my toes and legs out making angels but only without snow, but with this God-given gift of this crazy soft egyptian cotton, allowing me to then wrap myself entirely, layering, each one by one, feeling perfectly still. Perfectly happy. Just perfect.

that, i love entry 1.

Thank your for letting me share this F’d up random joy with you.

youngabunga xo

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