A Shitty Thing to Write About

It was a bus shelter empanada that made me break that bathroom in Cartagena. Three hours before consuming it, I was in a seedy cantina with my new friend, Atlanta: an ex-army medic and survivor of the Fort Hood massacre. Atlanta’s PTSD had pushed him to the north east of Colombia where he volunteered at … Continue reading A Shitty Thing to Write About

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The Hymen Soliloquies

Four months ago I decided to become celibate. And it's going well. Okay, so 'well' isn't an adjective I'd use to describe my life at the moment, but it's been...interesting. Enlightening. My hymen is about to grow back, I haven't rubbed up against the dread-locked guy on the 438 bus yet, and the sex dreams … Continue reading The Hymen Soliloquies

Happy New Year from Playa del Carmen

I don’t think I like Playa del Carmen. There. I feel better now. It’s not Mexico. Well, technically it is, and I’m probably sounding incredibly conceited and elitist right now, but Playa is a shiny tourist hub where the drinks are overpriced, the stores are designer branded, the locals speak American-accented English, and the food is … Continue reading Happy New Year from Playa del Carmen

Sufferin’ Succotash

As I write this, I’ve been in Puerto Escondido for nearly three weeks. This beautiful beach side town has made me it’s unintentional prisoner as I wait to receive a package from Australia. I underestimated Mexican postal services. I foolishly thought that an express post package that should arrive overseas in three business days would … Continue reading Sufferin’ Succotash

“Me talk pretty one day.”

In an oestrogen laden opening sentence I can sum up my Wednesday: I got my hair done. In Mexico, it's about $50 for a full head of blonde foils and a cut. For the men that don't speak 'vanity': that's cheap. Really cheap. I went to Spanish class afterward and tried to tell my teacher about … Continue reading “Me talk pretty one day.”

Voy a Surfear

I need to be honest with myself. The charade has to stop. Something happened today, and I simply can't lie to myself for one more moment. It doesn't matter who started it, who called who a cry-baby, it ends now. It's time to be an adult and admit one simple truth: I suck at surfing. … Continue reading Voy a Surfear

Kind-of, Almost Two Years Ago Today

Every year, on the anniversary of my divorce, I light scented candles, listen to Morrissey, cry, and play with myself. That's not true, silly. I just wanted a snappy opener. As boring as it is, I don't indulge in any bizarre, ritualistic behaviour on D-Day; but ironically, for the last two years, I have found myself on … Continue reading Kind-of, Almost Two Years Ago Today

The Adventures of CC and John West

Day of the Dead Sunday night, I found myself in the middle of a Day of the Dead parade, hurriedly looking over my left shoulder, with a pink iPhone shoved in my underpants. Yes. In my undies. Down the front. It's a sentence that will stop anybody from borrowing my phone ever again. Unfortunately for … Continue reading The Adventures of CC and John West

I don’t know what to call this. “Cemetery”? “Night & Day”? Meh. Who cares.

Follow me on instagram @casey_mareeee Come on now. Don't be lazy. I even added a link. All you have to do is click. Please? ....you have to validate me. You just have to! I don't know what I'll do otherwise.

The Oaxacan Day of the Dead Medley

Follow me on instagram @casey_mareeee If, you know, you're bored or something. Or don't. You know what? I don't even care. Yeah...I don't. Nope. Not one bit. ....please validate me.