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The naughty in me has come out and i can’t stop the *shimmie* from a shaking, so help me GOD! I was feeling all sorry for my rather pretty self, *flutter-flutter-sympathy please* and then i slapped on ‘Don’t let me start without you’ by Alexandra Burke and like i was on crack dipped Jolly Ranchers, the *cheeky cheeky* started to bubble in my system and now i feel completely over the moon. I feel playful, utterly joyous and almost as if i could leap off Cloud 9, build myself a Cloud 10 and tell all you kittens, to join me, in your best heels! (And i’m not even drunk! Wish i was though. It is a vice i am beginning to miss deeply. 7 Months to go!)

I would actually always *wiggle* around to this song (not knowing who it was by)  in a black BSM fiat, with Loverboy, as my moment, on motorways. We’d play if full blast, wind up the windows, so we didn’t look like complete twateroos, and well piss take dance, like the happiest of hot fricking campers!

I don’t know why i’m feeling so ace, but life is just dealing me a jolly good hand and i’m happy. Simple as that! I couldn’t have jig-sawed it together any better? My life has  been re-glued and re-glued, all over the globe, until it finally worked. For once i feel solid. I’m going through an unbelievable profund phase of change…great change! I’ve shocked myself..but i never did give up, did i? Well done ME!

On a more delicious note,  I’ve also been proposed to a fan called ‘Bobby’ in Africa, and men in kilts have been sending me pictures of themelves, asking if i think they’re fat! Haha. I love my life! I’ve also managed (mid-wiggle) to stress Wazza out completely and make his second guess his whole entire existance…(that’s what friends are for) and i other than that,  i’m enjoying how boys are attempting to *woo*me (‘Here Chrissie, listen to this song i want to dedicate to you. It’s called Pussy,’ ) and yeah…as per usual, I pretty much look *SIZZLE* bitches! I don’t know why boys bother going down the sexual route of trying to pull me, because it NEVER works. I had a guy facebook me called ‘Peter Minty Stimson.’ In order to ‘woo’ me he wrote me this (under the subject title ‘Hi Chicken’ : ‘ Still wana c u with spunk in your mouth and me fingers up your arse.Inbox me if your dirty.Cant wait.Xxx’

If he looked mildy Brad Pitt like, i would’ve let him off. (You have to really don’t you. I mean i wouldn’t have liked it, but i would’ve let him off..with a *Blank.*) Yet because he had a face like a Bulldog and not a cute one you want to pet, but an unloved one that you want to kick (in the face, repeatedly, or pissing on your shoes,) i informed him of how disgusting he was…but Wunna style. I then deleted him. Funny, but not funny guy. The sexual aprocah doesn’t fly with me. I’m ingenius at it. Rubbish attempts at pervy Tom Foolery will simply be a *yawn.* (Note: The boys that scored me, where the boys that told me they loved me. Mean it or not…learn it…quickly! I enjoy, love, fun and romance. The bedroom is a department i own and you aren’t on the list!) Men are just thick sometimes. I mean that ‘Minty blah blah’ guy, is really a bad guy?  He just thinks he’s funny and doesn’t know how to approach a Glamour Puss, other than making himself look like a twat. That’s what i find more disappointing. The distinct lack of Swagger! But whatever, i’m joyous right now, i’m filing that away and enjoying my evening with party poppers!

I’m missing being the life and soul of any party, i missing getting my gin on and my wiggle on. I want to *shimmie* gleefully, until i go blind and i keep telling everyone that my ‘body is a weapon.’ (Oh dear!) Why am i getting a *Flashback* of this boy i dated called Tommy, driving up to my old LA appartment on Kings rd, that i shared with a lawyer, and throwing a box of my things at me? It must’ve been a happy moment. All i remember is the car was red, on loan and i fianlly got my ‘Dirt’ belt back. The relationship i could sacrifice. But i did miss his penis. I cried over it for whole days. (Sooo glad, i’m not with him now. Great great friend! Rubbish boyfriend.)

Life is good. Doing happy dances and everything. Tomorrow Loverboy goes in for his ‘bambino’ blood-test. He’s working all today, and i’m missing him loads!! It’s a good feeling. I can’t believe i forgot Leeds Pride was this Sunday!!! God, i need food! I’m gonna enjoy a night in, with my ego!

‘Peter Minty Stimson’ (below… definitely a ‘keeper’)

A granny on a train told me to notice how every young person around me, had ear phones in or head phones on, like they were trying to block out the world around them. She told me she believed that the youth of today were terrified of being bored, or still, or simply alone. They needed constant simulation in order to feel safe or happy.

I found what she said interesting and she found the fact that i was the only ’20 something or younger’ that was actually conversing with her openly. You’re not meant to talk to strangers, but if you do, life is gets a little bit saucier. I’m not afraid of a bit of the old ‘stranger banter.‘ I’m more afraid of the fact that one day i’ll die and my whole entire life, my whole entire existance will be forgotten. I will regret not talking to every single stranger i saw in an elevator, train, bedside or meeting. Plus, regret, as i well know, is a little fucker that will eat away at you until the end of time. Turning back that clock is impossible. Make bold decisions, but MAKE SURE THEY ARE RIGHT for YOU! (Why am I covered in Fleas! Not very Glamour Pussy.)

I then looked to my left and saw a young twenty something girl, quite sweet, quite plain, looked flustered, like she worked in an office and did far too much for her pay. Her hair was all starggly and she looked like she had just been suffering from a broken heart. She was dressed in black, and in an outfit that would suggest she didn’t want to get noticed. I watched her look starving and reach into her bag, that was filled with her entire ‘life’ and pull out a tupperware box. (I hate tupperware. I find ‘boxing off’ my life into cheap plastic squares of air tight liddage is sinful. Infact, i don’t get why people go to Tupperware parties!?! What are you thinking? Parties aren’t for buying Tupperware, they are for dancing in nipple tassles after a few too many gins, to ‘Take that’ songs that you forgot you liked and maybe with bongos. I don’t want to buy perfectly sized plastic boxes! I want to waste my money shoving it into the speedos of go-go dancing boys! (I’m getting a *Flashback*of a boy named Scott in LA, who was an adopted go-go dancing boy, who was straight, but go-go danced at a gay bar. Can’t remember which one now? But i do remember cowboys? He was not a cowboy however. He was on all fours in a pink speedo, beckonning me over, and giving me his number that he had written on a reciept. For some reson he really fell in love with me, and beofre our first date. But weirdly the seeing him on all fours, wiggling in a pink speedo, put me off him. He just wanted to be loved and well that meant he wasn’t for me. I want someone to love ME, who I am, who i stand for and not just be filling  a void of ‘need love.’ and ‘any’ love at that! Eww, i hate that ‘falshback’ on Mondays I always feel bad, because i said i would go on a date with him and i just didn’t. UGH! Bad form Wunna)

Anyway, back to the hungry plain girl….She then pulled out what seemed like the tiniest salad, fit for an elf, who was maybe anorexic and i watched her eat it like she had to and not because she wanted to. eat the things thatnake you happy…not the things that make you thin.  It’s sad to see a woman under that kind of pressure. How has this happened? Where is that spirit of ‘ooh laa,’ that Monore magic, full of deliciousness,love humps, sequins, and lighting. When girls were all showy, glamourous and bold. When a woman ate cake, to celebrate their existance. When Chrissie Wunna strutted in with that cheeky glint that suggested ‘playtime.’

I looked at her and smiled, She looked at me, scanned my body with her eyes then looked away…not even acknowledging my *smile.* Eww! When i’m happy, you need to make the most of it. You don’t want to be on the otherside of bitchy Wunna. When i’m smiling, i’m telling you i hear you, especially when you think no-one else does. That girl looked at me like i was the sheer sin of the world and i didn’t even have my ‘Hollywood bounce’ naughty curls in. I felt sorry for her, for a good few moments. I thought i  had a train friend. Then her scowl put me off her and made me glad that i was about to eat a banana nut muffin to the wise words of the ever so informative grandmother sitting opposite me. I ate ti sexaully to make her mad. I’m immature, i know, (haha) but i just don’t like bad behaviour, when it’s not done by me.

I’m currently re-reading through ym weekend bbm’s and i have this great one from my gay ‘Edd.’ We’ve been discussing the art of trapping and training boys. (Like ya do, on a Sunday, the day of GOD!) I told him some useless knowledge like you have to fool the boy into thinking he can’t live without you. He replied with a, ‘Fool? FOOL?? He will BELIEVE!!…It’s like clapping if you believe in fairies. You just do it.’

I need to get showered. My book thing is now scaring me. I’ve completely forgotten about all the stuff that i wrote in the early days of ‘chrissiewunna.com.’ I’ve changed so muc over the last month let alone the last couple of years. but ah well, i guess that’s the beauty of human existance. Or ME! I wonder how they’re gonna piece it all together? Scary much!

Happy MONDAY, you divine dips of deliciousness. I’m tremendously merry this morning, filled to the brim with Va Voom. I’m cheery, i’m chipper, i’ve recieved shocking great morning news, and well i can’t think of a better way to start my day, than with morning news that makes you smile. I obviously can’t tell you about it, because I’ve been instructed to file it under *Top Secret.* The good thing however, is that usually when people tell me to keep things *hush-hush*…i tell everyone…NO! I’M JOKING. (Ha.) What i meant to say is that, the good thing is about ‘don’t tell anyone’s’ is that the passer of the whispery secret, (even though mine was computery and via text) usually gives into temptation. Within a week, what was supposed to be *Top shelved* away from the ears of the roaring public, ends ups being good town gossip. But anyway, it’s Monday, i’m HAPPY and therefore i instruct each and every one of you to rejoice and be happy also. Infact be anything beginning with ‘H.‘ Hippy, happy, horny or Hindu? You might aswell, as it’ll probably rain later and we’ll all be miserable once more. *Weeps.* I’m telling you, there’s something in the air today, or even a trickle in our water! There’s a goodness of merriment a spreading through the lands and yes…i do sound like i’m on uppers, (please, i’d never wish that upon my pretty self again. I was like a clockwork dolly, all boobied and ready to explode. I’m so anti drugs now, it’s unbelievable. Being 20 in Hollywood really did get the better of me, during those times. I thought i had a *swagger* in my step, but really i was just falling.) Yippee!

Anyway, let me take you back to Saturday night. Loverboy picked me up to take for a little treat of *dinner dinner.*We all love a bit of *din dins* and he was especially craving ‘chinese.’ So i popped into his car, with my boobies in their most perfect position. (I’m clever, Pete is one who loves the ladies ‘love bumps.’ The fastest way to make him submit, is to ‘get them out.’ Well tease him with thet art of feminity!) He loves a curvy girl and i’m talking all the way. On a drive home once he asked me what the fattest man i have ever slept with was? (Erm…? I haven’t a fat man before. Not that i wouldn’t, they just haven’t crossed my path. Most of the boys i’ve dated have been delicious, buff models. I parade my conquests around like they’re meat! Plus, if i’m being honest, i don’t think a fat man, is the same as a curvy girl. )

Anyway Pete once slept with a size 14 and loved every horny moment of it. He likes to be overpowered by the body of a woman. I’ve noticed this just recently. Whenever i’m *on top* he can’t handle his emotions as well, as he could during my *on my back* phase. I don’t think he minds being dominated by women. It kinda turns him on? I’m little but i’ve got all my lumps and bumps in all the right places. I feel sexy when i’ve had that extra bread roll with dinner. Its actually quite lovely to have a man that enjoys a curvy womans body. I’m under no pressure to be thin and when i feel sexy, i AM sexy. Purr….*down tiger.*

We ended up at the ‘Red Chilli’ in Leeds. It’s by Millenium square and was actually amazing. It wasn’t quite dark yet, so we drifted in from the dusky ‘not quite day, but not quite night’ light, and into this magical world of asian enchantment.

We had a corner table away from everyone esle, who centred the restuarant. Yet as i looked down upon it, it was dark, delicious, and sensual, covered with sexy giant dragonned walls, chandeliers, and a dark green mood lighting. It was like China town and the Emerald city in one.

Loverboy is currently feeling really comfortable with me. When we’re away from one another, he sort of loses his connection with me, and turns into this shy mess of a boy. When we spend all our time together. he feels empowered and strong and starts to *comfort* in. (Which i love.)

We laughed, joked, and loved all night. We’re one of those sexy couples, that look like they’re having the time of our lives. The starter, dinner and dessert was amazing! Topped off with sake, beer and Appletiser.

When we eat, we fall in love, yet Pete’s *horn beast* got the better of him though. It was his two favourite things on the menu, beef and boobs. I told him i loved him at one point, between courses. He didn’t even hear me because he was so enthusiastically scoffing down his mutton, like there was no tomorrow (sorry, it was lamb, not beef.) He sort of cutely looked up unaware after i shouted at him, gave my boobs a quick glance, smiled and went back down to lamb scoffing! Hahaa…Then he had the cheek to tell me to use my charm of *winking* in order to get the waiters attention so he could purchase another drink. Like i need to be told to use my winking powers. I was using them all night, whenever he looked down.

This is all sounding hideious, but believe me it was hilarious. We’re mightily in love and well life is just too darn good between us right now. The staff threw a coupkle of watermelon slices and warm hand towels at us, to make us leave. We did, and went back to his for cuddles.

That night, Pete and I ended up in nothing but dogtags, outside my home, tending to the making love thing. I always tease him and get him all wound up sexually, then say something like i have a ‘headache’ or i feel ‘sick.’ He’ll then get all frustrated and moaney…like they do and then i’ll let him enjoy me. It makes him feel like he’s *won* something, and the *rumpy* is always better. I mean it’s good anyway. We’re a romantic, sensual couple. But Loverboy feels as though i’m always scoreboarding him after a bit of the old ‘hows ya father?’

I’m the best sexual partner he’s ever had…but really that’s not saying much, since his first sexual experience, was with an outdoor garden climbing frame. (#Don’task. He told me yesterday by a couple of wheely bins.)

Life is all good right now, and i’m feeling *wa-woo-wee.* I had a delicioous Sunday dinner, cooked by his Mummy for the whole entire family yesterday and i attemtped to try and make Loverboy buy his niece a lilac, giant ball pool! Wait for it! That was in the shape of a SWAN!! A SWAN! Heelllooo AMAZING! (I like extravagant gifts.)  Quite sensibly he went with a doll. It was her first ever one. (The Wunna girly influence is a creeping in. I’m liking it. Next week she’ll be pouting and demanding a vodka with her veg.)

Anyway i hope you’re well, Hindu or happy? Big big winks. (This time last year, i was teaching young teenage girls how to creep into auditoriums for free and stalk George Sampson. Best bad influence in town bitches.)

Chrissie Wunna

So last night was full of magic, tv, kitten stroking and much needed alone time. I’m really loving alone time right now, because i get to do whatever i want, whenever i want. Not that i don’t anyway? Yet, when i’m with people, i very much know that i am partially ‘on show.’ Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being ‘on show.’ Yet sometimes a kitten, just needs her own space of luxury. I’m waving the flag for independancy and have been doing since i was 3. I wanted to stay at preschool and party even after it closed. My Mother..(well childminder, as my Mother was always working) had to DRAG me out of there, kicking and screaming. I wanted to continue getting my *wiggle* on, by the building blocks, with my pigtails, frilly socks, and *wink* factor. Apparently even at that age, i would make the nursery lady, fill my plastic cup only a quarter full of orange squash. I’d then carefully sip it like it was gin and pretend my ‘Party ring’ biscuits were some kind of delicious french finger food handed out to only the A-list of social stardom.

I was a ‘HIT’ at preschool, yet no-one knew why i had slanty eyes? I remember always getting yelled at because i was still using my baby’s bottle. I loved that thing with a passion..and it kinda gave me a skill that would come in handy much later on in life.

Preschool rocked, because everyone wanted to play with me. However, after my ginned up orange squash, and french finger food, Party ring biscuits, they would rather unglamourously make us all march out into the back garden, in single file and pretend we were frogs, mid-sing-a-long. I despised this, as my shyness got the better of me. I was a Queen, not a frog, and having to go through verses of ‘Four little speckled frogs’ was almost pretty devastating. Did she not see my socks? They were on legs, that were to be pictured for magazines in the future and worshipped by over horned males, across the entire globe. They CERTAINLY weren’t created to be squatted and bent towards my ears, whilst i croaked like a frog to pass the time of childhood. (Well maybe at some point in my twenties and in Hollywood, I hit the same position. But that was well worth the pain and probably got me a few free dinners. I remember getting taken out on so many dates, during that time of my life. That i actually, by the age of 24 was completely and utterly SICK to DEATH of lobster and champagne dinners. Bouji much! I have loved my life! I never knew why guys always wanted to wine me and dine me? But i never questioned it. I learnt that i was a girl, and a feminine one at that. I embraced all things lady like and wonderous. It’s just part of life, i guess? Men WILL want to take you out to dinners, if you flaunt your femininity and when you’re a girl, what else can you do! Don’t hide behind the fear of being noticed. Be noticed and do it well! When you’re a girl, you will get away with it a GREAT deal MORE!

Don’t listen to the men that hate on women like that and simply because they’re just jealous that they can’t slip into a tiny dress and strut from one side of the room, to the other and end up with 20 free drinks, 14 phone numbers, and 4 proposals of marriage in their hands. They have to do the catching, the pulling, the good old jiggery pokery…so life isn’t as easy for them. You’re a lot more powerful than you think you are chicks! Remember that! (Or forever be buying microwave meals for one.)

Anyway, today when i woke up, 26 years on from preschool, i felt half dodgey, but much much better than i did yesterday. It took me a while to beable to make myself get up, due to my sickness, yet after a good old *Wiggle-wink & hair-toss* i was right as rain, (even though i feel rain is hardly right) and ready to take on my weekend.

I don’t know what got into me, but something must have warped my brain, as i began to be under the misconception that i was some sort of domestic goddess? I am not kidding, i have flipping scrubbed the floors, washed the dishes, tumbled dried the clothes, cleaned out the cat litter, posed, pouted and leapt…and all in an hour! It was like i was on crack. (Which as we all know, is whack. No Whitney! No!) I mean, if you had been infront of me for more than a second too long, you would’ve got a jolly old scrub down to! I don’t know what’s wrong with me? And why do i want Ivana Trump to be my slave?

Anyway, like i said, all was well, i had a smile on my face, a glint in my eye. I was curling my hair with one hand and yabbering on the phone in the other. (Bbm’ed bantered with Mark Byron this morning. I miss him and his McParty ways. They were all out in Liverpool last night. Rodrigo included and well the fact that his ‘eyese went rotten’ means they had a good night. Woohoo! Sight is over-rated. If you have tons of friends, you don’t need to beable to see. They will foolishly guide you, through your horrific evening of ‘party party’…and they’ll be doing it blind also. It’s a ‘win/win’ really. (Well if ‘win/win’ means ‘lose/lose.’) Which reminds me, i need to go to Specsavers. I’ve run out of contact lenses. I hate going because it always takes them donkey’s years to find my file. It’s ‘Wunna’...not ‘Warner.’ Yes, I’m blind, not bitchy.

Since the day had been going so well, i thought i’d treat my pretty self to a rest. So I sauntered upstairs to have a lay down (being a glamour puss AND a domestic goddess, is exhausting.) I look at my phone, which i had accidentally left by the bed, and notcied that i had 3 missed calls from Pete. One of the calls he had dialled as an ‘Unknown’ which i find hilariously random. If i don’t answer the first time, he always thinks i’m about to do a runner and i’m avoiding him. I always ask him why he called ‘unknown’ and he always lies every time. LOL. It’s funny.

I call him back, and he’s straight in with the ‘House hunting’ news. Like i said before, i hate house hunting and the sheer fear of the commitment, gets to me. It terrifies me and makes me feel all pressured, rushed, pushed and forced. Whenever, i’ve moved in with guys before it’s ended pretty badly. Depp downinside of me, there must be some kind of emotional pain or fear, that makes me *tantrum* whenever he begins his desent on that particualr subject. i can feel it coming on and i begin to panic. I mean, i’ve been through some really hard times with boys, in the past and it’s something that he doesn’t realize. Add commitment phobe to that, and you have a problem. I’m going through a lot right now, with the book, my LA drama, my family being away, my ‘thing-a-ling’ and my relationship. It’s just a highly emotional time and after a stint in London where i felt emotionally used and battered, that i finally sort of feel safe, after years of being a solo, ballsy adventurer.

That safeness, is with my family. I can be a little girl again. I have a soft place to fall. I lived as an adult, all my life…yet the problem being that i was only  a child, my mother missed my life for a whole decade. Life has gieven me a good old beat down, from left to right, then up to down. But i’m happy, i’m here, i survived it and i’ve got a smile on my face, a virgin cocktail and a banner than read *success.* I mean some of the things i’ve seen and experienced in life, (all of it in Hollywood) are things Pete could only imagine in movies. I was there living it first hand and yeah, it wasn’t always easy, but i loved every moment of the tale. However, good or bad it was…i muscled through boldy creating a reputation that only a floozey like me would be proud of. lol.

Pete answers, and pretty much tells me he’s found the house he wants us to move into and he’s on his way to get the paperwork. I am to fill it in immediately (it was currently about 11.20pm) and i had to kind of do it now, if i wanted because the estate agents needed our forms in my 12 noon. If they didn’t get our forms by then, it would be bad, ebcause his Mum says that we need to jump on it whilst we can and before anyone else gets it.

Nothing like pressure. I immediately felt warm, terrified, under force and not happy. I tried to explain myself, but it just ended up in tears. I’m hormonal right now, i’m crying at everything. It’s hilarious, but messy. Whenever he brings it up, i get this way and i dont’ know why? I think it’s because i’m making far too many solid commitments and fast. Or it could be the fact that feel ganged up on, or *pushed.* I don’t know?

After a life of living on impulse, i’ve finally learnt to take my time with things. That has taken me ten years to learn! petelikes to act quickly because he doesn’t want me to change my mind about him or our deal for ‘ forever.’ It’s causing drama, because the pressure of the house hunt is the only thing shovelling a line bewteen us. I want to move in with him, i want to be with him, i just don’t like the *force* of it.

He’s in a difficult position to, as his parents are quite eager for him to move out, (as he was techniclly only meant o be staying there for a couple weeks until he found a new place, after a break up.) I’m in a difficult position because my parents want to hold on to me for as long as they can. I’ve lived away from home (and i’m talking in a different country) all my entire life…and well the fact that i’m home, means so much to my mum, it’s almost her world.

I’m meant to be showering, changing and grooming, right now. Yet because i was so stressed, I instead opted for blogging and tweeting. It’s weird how in moments of dire straits, i find myself emptying out my confusion in cyberland. It calms me. It woos me. My blog is something that i trust. I find it easier to share my thoughts with all of you, than i do with the people i actually have around me sometimes. That’s weird right? I mean, i’m an expressive girl. I have no problems telling anyone what i think of them or their merry ways. But just recently, i’ve needed my blog more than ever ans simply to destress.

I don’t know what’s wrong, but i do know i need to pamper. I need mind space and to feel free of the nitter natter that’s going on in my head. I need wind to my skin, and air to my flair. I need to breathe. What i need is my mum! Her being away has really shocked my system. You don’t realize how important someone is to you, until they are gone. She has been the strongest influence in my life. My closest friend and i just miss her being around me. (She’s ony gone on holiday and i’m ating like she’s dead. lol)

My *Thing-a-ling*has really put emphasis on how important a ‘Mother’ role is in anyones life  and she’s the only person that truely knows what i’m going through without me having to say anything. I need to stop before i have another tragic *kleenex*moment. lmao

Right…i’m gonna get back to showering, grooming and meeting my ‘Handsome’ for a Saturday of ‘love.’ I hope we don’t argue because that’s the last thing i need right now. I can hear my tumble dryer beeping. I wish you could throw everything in there and give it a quick spin whenever it annoyed you. Infact, maybe you can? I want cake.

So what i wanted to tell you was that last night, i enjoyed a quiet-ish night in, with my telly box, mango yogurts, drunk people, and a 2 year old Mini Me, that responds to the named of ‘Cherry.’ How adorable. I was hormonal last night, therefore i was on top Wunna form. This whole ‘sitiuation,’ i’m in right now is hilarious. One minute, your full of life and shimmie, the next moment, you want to breakdown and cry, dolloped off with exhaustion, and then a moment of ‘hornball.’ It’s brilliant. I literally have a Glamour puss living inside me and it’s already controlling my every little emotion in life. #terrifiedmuch. (I love it when it makes me feel frisky! I want to run around pathetically humping doors and tree trunks and teddy bears, in the shape of bunnies.)

So my chick friend came over with her two year old little girl, who is so adorably tiny, with the longest straightest black hair you have ever seen. It’s past her bum! She’s vietnamese, and in that ever so cute phase of jiggery. I mean she literally IS a doll, so tiny, and expressive and wiggly. I’m mildy jeaous that she has better hair than me and a superior tan. I asked her if she had extensions? She repiled with an ‘My mum said i can get them when i’m 4.’ I’ve decided that she is my ultimate competition in life. Her eyes will get her into far more trouble than mine did, when she’s older…and that’s pretty much saying something. She could even fit into skinny jeans! UGH!

Anyway, unfortunately her mum was depressed. Great! Yippe! Bring out the fricking banners! Depressed drunk people, always want to hang around me when i’m *tee-total* and happy. I’d make a shit shrink, as i’d start having an attitute problem, when they began non-stop talking about themselves and their problems. I couldn’t really be bothered to make her feel better, because i’m in a phase where i’m blocking any negative energy OUT. 

My friend, (Cherry’s mum) was a model and wanted to be horrifically famous. She’s one of those girls that was never happy with her own life, her own look, her own anything….and therefore thought FAME would make it better. Fame doesn’t make anything better, it’s an illusion. We’re ALL people. Entertainment is pretend. It is the art of ‘show.’ I love the art of ‘show’ because it’s fun. But i regard it as ‘playtime’ and do not define my ‘being’ with it. I place it in the same catergory as going on a night out, with cocktail drinking friends. It’s a ‘good time’ and dangerous when you have too much of it. Some of my friends, do not realize this….and i’m watching them fall to pieces, right infront of me. (Which messes up my carpet.)

My chick friend ‘Lisa,’ never learnt this lesson, and still strived to fill a void, with something that wasn’t real. When i was younger, i was the same. But now at 29, and having first hand lived Hollywood, bruises and all. I’ve realized that you can only become invincible, when you feel whole, loved, confident and comfortable in your own skin. Infact, so strong that your name will live on forever, no matter what. Regardless as to whether you wanted it to. When you are whole, loved, and happy, then your work is TOP CLASS. It’s superior and unbeatable. Then you can begin to make you mark on this world and flirt with the thought of fame. Your craft and love should come first, but not before YOURSELF. The fame part will happen…if you are good at what you do. It is not something that people should be striving for initially. I learnt this the hard way as a teen, turning 20.

After watching ‘My weird & wonderful family’ (which i loved. There should be more reality documentaries on the people of the world, rather than just of peopel who make the cover of OK magazine. One of the things that i lvoed about my ligfe so far, is that i’ve wlaked many paths with people, and seen how others life, first hand, millions of different ways. It helped me understand life, who i was, what i wanted to achieve and aided my success. My confidence. My ballsiness. My everything!

I encourage adventures in people, take risks, and a wander down the path life of another for a month. Be they a friend, a boyfriend, a stranger or someone you despise. Often people are unable to do this, they need that push, that cheeky Wunna *beckon,* that little bit of encouragement. I can’t always be there, so one of the greatest ways to learn other walks of life is via reality tv. Documentary style reality tv.  I mean i don’t care to see what Danni Minogues doing with her new fashion range, or shoe collection. That reality documentary last night about the two gay dads that have parented 5 children was AMAZING and something that people can learn about. It’s essential to human existance. I loved it!

I watched my friend Lisa, drink all my rum and cry into it like a ‘forgotten about’ Pirate. She had been watching the ‘Katie & Alex’ show and the part where Katie couldn’t get out of her A-team van, due to the press trying to get a picture of her, made our Lisa cry. No because she felt bad for Katie. (Lol.) Yet because (and these were her actual words,) ‘…i will never have that happen to me now. EVER!’ Part of me watched her and oddly wondered why she was crying over something like that. Then the rest of me (and because i’m fricking hormonal) went soft and made me feel great empathy for her. My whole living room filled with her broken dreams, as she hysterically cried it out and  into the walls.

Not wanting to dwell on such tragedy, i decided to make her little daughter ‘Cherry’ perfom for us all. ‘Cherry’s’ ace because no matter what, she will put her ’2yr old,’ arse on the line for the random sake of humour. A future Queen of Greatness. She reminded me of myself…hence why i liked her, therefore I told her to do impressions of the people she had in her life.

First if all she did her mum..which was just some old lady, knelt on her knees, watching the telly and crying, (Lmao.) Then she did her dad…which was her just walking around like a bit butch lesbian, and doing some kind of ‘angry’ man face. Then she did me. Which i obviously thought was going to be a hair-toss, and a strut. But nooooo!

That cheeky little minx, carefully walked up to what looked like an imaginary cabinet. (I love kids, because everything is imaginary, yet at the same time so real.) It apparently wasn’t a cabinet. It was a bar. Yet her height restrictions, meant it looked like a bedside table. She picked up a pretend martini glass, sipped it, *paused,* then DOWNED it! After that she looked around the room, like a Little Miss.Diva and then before she walked away, her eyes seemed to go all funny, as did her legs. She did this wobbly head, drunk stumble, with a fish pout, and eyes that suggested i could be mentally ill, took 4 staggers forward and collapsed on the floor. That was her impression of me. I loved every moment of it!  I’m already making an impact on the lives of 2year olds!

The good thing about it was that her mum looked at me and smiled. Which was kinda all that mattered. It was the whole point to the process. Then a kitten commercial came on and made me weep. These hormones are pretty much getting the better of me.

They left, so i wandered upstairs to lay on my bed and read my pregnancy magazine, whilst chomping on cola cubes. I wondered what everyone else was doing in the world, then got a call from Loverboy, who wanted to wish me a good night. I don’t know how i found cola cubes, but i certainly forgot how delicious they are!

Woke up this morning feeling AMAZING. I’ve decided i want an old fashioned candy store, (sweetie shop) built into my house and i need a weekend away before it. (Shit, i forgot to tell you about the therapy, i had with a leprechaun yesterday afternoon. It’ll have to be in another blog. UGH!!)

Last night was hilarious. I was deliciously homonal and the funny kind, where you cry at how happy the girl looks on a tampax commercial, as she frolocks upon the dusky beach, or you cry at kittens doing tricks for their ‘Whiskas.’ I’m a kitten, who can pull many a ‘trick,’ yet it never neds in a biscuit like treat and more ends with me drunk dialing an ex, mid-weep, with a ‘ but what went wrong?’ I once did that in LA, with this bartender, I was madly in love with. Delicious he was. Even though my friends kept telling me he had a ‘lazy eye.’ I was at The Abbey, where he bartended. (It’s mainly all straight guys who bartend at The Abbey and I pretty much know them all…personally. ) Anyway, it was everso romantic, and we were very much flirting with one another and pretty much hanging out almost ever day. (Now, i remember, ‘hanging out’ was ME having to buy him lunches and dinner. Another ‘Jonny’ type. *Yawn.*) Infact, right from the start it was terribly magical, and well i  was under the misconception that we had been dating for the last 7 months. However, it seems I had got it completely wrong and he was actually with a whole other girl at the same time…who he had been with ‘on & off’ for some time!

He straight up played me. I was popular, rich, knew everyone he needed to know and ‘ooh laa.’ He wanted to date me, but thought he could never keep me, therefore I was a girl he was mildy terrified of loving. (He had deep rooted emotional upbringing.) I remember one time, outside my appartment, he told me i was the girl he wanted in his life forever…and a week later,  I found out online, that he had a girlfriend the whole entire time. I mean, he would literally ask me for money. I’d give him like $100, out of the goodness of my heart and simply because i was foolishly in love with him. Then he’d go out and spend it all, buying his girlfriend drinks. Haha. I shouldn’t laugh, because it’s absolutely awful. I’m just laughing at how stupid i used to be. The good thing about this story is…i grew in life and made all of my dreams come true. I embraced a career, more men, a decent income and this delicious reputtation of ‘Party Queen.’

I remember i looked back at him one day, years after…(we still to this day have not made up, simply because we can’t find it in us to. Yet if, i saw him in LA, we’d be completely fine. Well i just can’t bare the fact that he used me. I mean that’s a big thing that i immediately dislike about guys, because a lot of them have, do and will. Now, when they have, do, or intend to,  i can never seem to forgive them, or open my heart up to them. Hence why i no longer speak to Jonny.)

But yeah, years later, i looked back at my LA bartending boy, who i didn’t have sex with in 8 months simply because he lied and told me he was super religious. He couldn’t apparently have sex before marriage…even though i bought him 8 Bloody Mary’s at the pool by The Standard, and after driving me home, he boned me on my roomates bed? (I’m an idiot!!) He had made it up, because he didn’t want to cheat on his girlfriend. Infact, i look at him now, and I see how far i moved forward in life. I mean he’s *inched* forward a tiny little bit in life, yet probably has a great deal of karma to serve up yet, before he gets his ‘dream come true’…which is to be an actor. It actually makes me 50% sad, knowing that he never did as well as he wanted and that I could still rock up to a bar and order my traditional giant sized Malibu Pineapple, from him. I mean years later, he’s still in the exact same situation. Whereas, i got so lucky in my life…I don’t know why? I don’t know how? But I did…I’ve achieved so much since the last time we crossed paths. He’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong. There are times when i sit back now, and crack up laughing at the things we got up too! We had so much fun!  I don’t hold any resentment towards him. (Like i do with Jonny.) I hold ‘Ryan’ (that was his name) with a much higher regard, because he’s actually quite lovely. (Oh and i said ’50%’ earlier, because if i’m being deadly honest, the other half of me, is kinda jumping up and down merrily, with a big ‘in your face!’)

I love how my blog works…that story isn’t the story that  i wanted to tell you this morning. AT ALL!!  It just kinda happened….Ugh! I hate my wandering mind. I need to learn focus. (I’m telling ya, it’s because i’m sober. It’s sending me doo-lally!)

So i was waiting on Platform 13A for a train back to Pontefract, after my long afternoon in Manchester of auditioning on Saturday. I’d just edged in half an hour previous into Leeds train station, dined on noodles, and armed with a Pic n Mix for my Mother, i bought a train ticket from Leeds back to Ponty.

Drunk Wazza & Drunk Bone approach platform 13a, with an ‘OMG THAT’S CHRISSIE OFF THE TELLY!’ With a surprise, a hug, and  ‘dick,’ as a reply to my ‘what have you been up too?’ question. We bundled onto the 6pm train, (that seemed to be weirdly packed,) as Drunk Bone thundered through the isle to find us the perfect table seat, for a foursome. A foursome made up of an apparent ‘Bald Bastard, a 10ft goth, a guy who loves ginger strippers and a slag.’ I was the ‘slag.’  (Do however note that, now that i am 29, with a Glamour Puss on the way and no longer 22 with an unmanageable ego and a libido that could ware Casanova out on his best of days. I am far more wise to such foolery. Being a floozey sailed me through my twenties. Since i am to be entering my 30th year in December and with a precious ’ovened bun.’ I’m much more ‘whole,’ settled and taken my a mixed raced ‘handsome’ who is promising to adore me forever. Just so you know. I mean, who’d thought there’d be the boy that could tame me? He actually did it through kindness and not through force. ) Proving that good guys don’t finish last! Also note, (back to our train journey) that our foursome, was currently a threesome, at this point!

Anyway yeah…incase you haven’t noticed i am finishing off a story that i failed to finish off previously. Not the last blog, but the blog before ended with such a ‘to be continued.’ [Yes take a look.] I was knackerd, exhausted, frustrated and 3lbs heavier. What i didn’t expect on my train journey was the Drunk Bone & Wazza circus! I secretly LOVED it! However, i will tell you that you know you’re in trouble when one of them not only has loose bottles of San Miguel in his rucksack, ready to  give to minors, but also a MASK. One of those cheap plastic ones, that have that tiny elasticated band on, that snaps after 4 wears. I was wedged in the corner of our train foursome table, with Wazza to my left guzzling beer like a gorilla, whilst wearing his cheap, ‘i’m a happy ghost’ mask and with Bone directly opposite me, telling me jokes about ‘black people’ and ginner strippers.

We all randomly ended up on the same train because both Wazza & Bone had just returned from Manchester also. I had been there all morning working and attempting to further myself in life.  They had been there all morning after a night out on the razzle. They had been to some concert, with another male friend, who Wazza shared a honeymoon suite with and lovingly spooned like a teddy bear all night long. (Not the prettiest sight before any meal really.)  Not sure what happened? But they ended up getting out of the concert in Manchester, getting lost, trying to find this (as they say) ‘right ace club,’ but ending up in some really rubbish, and dingey shit strip club. (That was apparently full of scousers.)

Long story short…Wazza described the quality of girl they found during their adventure, by informing me that in order to *woo* him, one of the young beauties told him that she ‘had a really sweaty back and he should touch it.’ Bone was apparently on a desperate hunt for a stripper, who was a real life ginger. He’s currently obsessed with them and needs to find one. I believe he stopped a random lovely on a dark Manchester street, after glancing at her roots to ask if she was a ginner? The answer he got was ‘FUCK no.‘ Says it all really. Pete shags ginners. We had a whole argument over it the other day. I like gingers. But just not when Pete bonked them in the past.

They later found themselves in a shit kareoke bar, where Wazza decided to sing his old favourite kareoke song ’Boom Shake the Room.’ It’s a juicy piece of soft rap melody. The strippers had also found themselves in the same kareoke bar, after their long night of ‘ooh laa’ and whilst Wazza serenaded them with cheesy old school hip hop, they lifted up their shirts, revealing nothing but their pastey bare boobs, whilst screaming his name in unison. ‘Waaazzza! Waaaazzzza!’ Who said romance was dead! (Infact, i don’t know how much of this could’ve been a drunkenillusion? But Bone assures me it was true. He was infact the story teller on our train journey. The story was told very drunkenly and very loud, and with San Miguel.)

So, I’m crammed into the corner. Wazza is the only person i let *cram* me into any corner. I’m Chrissie Wunna, i don’t get *crammed* i get worshipped. Well i do get *crammed,* but it usually ends with Loverboy, doing some kind of odd boy moan and sex face, before a tissue wipe down. You’d think he’d be satisfied with the *cramming* now he’s planted a Glamour Puss inside of me. But no…there’s no rest for the dear old sauce pot. I’ll have to get a whip and actually beat him away with it…fuck getting kinky, I’ll need to use it as an actual weapon. If i’m honest we’re actually quite chilled in the bedroom now because we’re quite satisfied with what we’ve achieved. Plus, we don’t technically have our own bedroom, which obviously makes *pumpy* hard.

Anyway, were on this tiny ricketty train, crammed at this table, with a story to tell and like the racist jokes weren’t enough, Bone looks to our left and sees a lovely looking 6ft 7 goth. I actually saw this 6ft 7 goth on the platform and was amazed by his bravery and his jacket that made him look like a superhero. It was sort of like a cape jacket. he had whited out his face, and coloured in black bat like features around his eyes. A proper goth. But 6ft 7. There’s no messing with him!

Bone, out of sheer interest, begins a conversation with Ben the 6ft 7 Goth, from Knottingley. I always get weary when the boys start convos with others, when drunk, incanse it ends in some kind of accidental fight of fisticuffage. Anyway turns out ben the 6ft 7 Goth, was actually ACE! Well maybe a little weary at first, he must be used to people being uneccessarily evil to him, because when Bone first approached him with a bit of a chatteroo, he had his guard up fully.

4 minutes later…and because we’re all highly social, Ben the 6ft 7 Goth, fromKnottingley, was now also CRAMMED on our train table, laughing, joking and being asked if he was a ginner? Bone had labelled him ‘Long legs’ after Wazza pointed out that he had the longest legs he had ever seen. Ben loved it. I loved Ben. Therefore in a moment of sheer merriment Wazza reached into his rucksack and popped him open a bottle of San Miguel. Which Ben guzzled down like a gothy Superhero.

The train was getting busier, it was getting filled to the brim with chavtastics. I was exhausted, yet enjoying the company, whilst being told that Bone can’t be near strippers in strip clubs because he’s a bit too ‘handsy.‘ He apparently goes for a move he has labelled the ‘Rape- Tackle.’ (Ouchy!)  I assured him that the two words on their own, really don’t appeal too much to a young lady, let alone when pushed together lovingly after a bit of cider. It was almost as though he didnt hear me…as he not only started asking me if i knew any ginger strippers, but asking Ben the lovely giant goth, if he would go out around Ponty with him and Wazza. He said it with a joy as magificent as life itself and all because he had managed to ‘out eat’ Wazza during breakfast time. (‘Chrissie I out e’t him. He only had a kebab, I had a whole breakfast the size of this table.”) Niice!

Anyway, seems that Ben, the 6ft 7  Goth, from Knottingley who Wazza had laiden with free beer was only 15. HAHAHA! Can you believe it! Only 15!!!! I loved it! The boys had taught him about strippers, racism, and given booze to a minor. In the space of two stops! I sat quietly and acted like the Queen of Sheeba, as Wazza reminded him that I’m off the telly and have a blog. We did pictures. But then Bone spied my Pic a mix and my life was over.

So i’m getting off the train an approimately 5.2 seconds and Wazza decides i’m not going anywhere until he’s felt up every single one of my pic a mix sweets, with his big manky kebab fingers and handed an appropriate sweet to each person at the table. UGH!  Like i have time! It’s not nursery school, it’s my time to get off the damn train home!

He gave really tall Ben a coconut mushroom. Really blathered Bone, recieved a chinese flavoured, gelatine turtle. He chose an….erm, i don’t actually know what he chose? And i finally got off the train and let them continue life, with San Miguel. I’m currently ‘tee total,’ so there’s no boozing for me, whatsoever. It makes me want a gin. A really tangy, refreshing one.

Oh and for those of you who always go on about my blogs being fabricated..

…meet Ben the 15 year old, 6ft 7 Goth, from Knottingley! I love him! x

Oh my God! I am sooo super stressed out today. It has been ALL go and i’m in a ‘wish i could call it delicious’ haze of *rush rush,* not knowing what’s a happening, who’s a happening, where i’mma gonna go and who i’m taking with me??? [Panic here!!] I’m simply holding onto the fact that everything will be alright. Like i always say, i never know what’s going to happen to me in the end? I just know it’s something wonderful. If i keep saying that enough…they the Dear Lord will grant me some kind of glittery finish, with my name in lights and everything. To be honest…i’d just settle for a smile on my face! I have a *smile* right now, but it’s hiding a secret bundle of *panic.* Now, I’m not usually one to panic. I’m more of a ‘aww lets get drunk and laugh it all off,’ kinda gal. However, i’ve got so much going on emotionally right now, that i feel as though i’m having to juggle a baby sized breakdown. (I’m laughing at how *Drama Queen,* I am. There’s people in the world that have it a lot worse, and i’m stressing over what seems like something *magical.*  )

I just feel as though i have each one of my emotions balanced on a plate, high above me, spinning on sticks, that I have forced to be in control of. If one of them falls, I fall and really in these heels…there can be no falling allowed. *Hair-toss* (Ooh i actually feel slightly more relieved now i’ve blogged it out? See my dolls, blogging is a GREAT form of therapy. Feel something, then let it out your system via written word, without a single worry about the fact that the WORLD can read it. )

Today, i finally have the whole entire day to myself. It’s one of those days that I..being the Ultimate Glamour Puss of ‘ooh laa daddio,‘ thoroughly count as precious. Half of my family have ventured off and away to a lovely little meditation retreat in Wales, where they will not be allowed to talk for ten whole days. I have the house to my pretty little delicious self. Loverboy is working all day, until passed midnight. Therefore I get to lounge around and catch up on life, love and my kittens. I haven’t had ME time in ages. Or it feels that way anyhow? I’m going through a lot and today is going to be very important for me, in order to beable to refuel emotionally. I want gin.

I just need one of those moments at night, where you sit on your window sill and stare out into the sky, or across all of the city, the land, or village, and wish for ‘dreams come true.’ No matter where you are in the world, or who you are in the world, that ‘moment‘ is one of the most sacred moments you could ever have. You should also be comforted by the fact that when you have that ‘moment’…you are joined by thousands of other members of this world, from all walks of life, in a hundred different countries, who are wishing and hoping for the exact same thing! It’s beautiful. Try it with a vodka bitter lemon.

Over the last couple of days, i’ve joined in on marvellous family lunches. I’ve been craving jacket potaoes with beans and cheese just recently and therefore no matter where I venture, it is almost a MUST that they have it on the menu. I’ve also, enjoyed romantic dinners with my darling bundle of ’handsome’ named ‘Peter.‘ (That is Loverboy, by the way,  incase you’re getting lost in the moment.) We did ‘Pizza express’ the other night. A place where i LOVE to dine and yeah we had fun…even though he possessed a bit of a wondering eye AND after i had bought him the new Ed Hardy dog tags!! When you give a boy a gift, they never seem to love it as much as a girl would. lol

Other than all that, i’ve laughed, joked, smiled, and had him make me dinner. I’ve had 5 tiny bottle of blood, squeezed out of my arm, by a midwife who enjoys to wit her way through my moment of anxiety. Most of you know what i have going on in my life right now, and well if you don’t… i apologise for being a mild blanket of secrecy. I will tell you that Pete, by Knight, my Hero, my brave, brave, Warrior of protection…almost *FAINTED* at the sight of a mere picture of ‘what was to come.’ Yeah Page 14 really got to him. He said if he didn’t leave for air, at that precise moment, he would’ve fallen on the floor and collapsed. LMAO! Haha. Aww..that why I love him. He’s simply adorable. (Plus, he scored major points by cooking me a ‘Jamie Oliver’ stew for dinner yesterday, with strawberries and ice cream for dessert. The best way to shut me up, is to stick food in my mouth, as the chewing will close down all gobby, Wunna air time. I have great table manners. There is no talking with my mouth full!)

But yeah, i’m home, i’m chilling, i have payment drama with companies that have made me work for them, yet forgotten to pay me my full amount. (NOT GOOD at all. It pisses me off, when that happens. I’ll always refuse to work for a company that can’t seem to pay their pussycats on time, or even at all. I’m a Wunna. That’s not how i roll!)

Channel 5 have asked me back to do another episode of their show, (I don’t know if you remember? But i filmed a one off, where i had to talk and comment about sex and the education of it.) I did a pretty good job, with the old Wunna banter and so they’ve politely asked me back for another dollop of my deliciously tragic *wisdom.* Unfortunately, i am AWAY (ugh) when they shoot and I won’t beable to do it until the the beginning of next month…which is obviously too late. (Well done Wunna.) But i’m sure they’ll work something outty and simply because I love them!

My book is currently being judged, at the publishers. I’m having to put my own money into it, which is always mildy alarming. I love the book, yet the throwing of money at it makes me weary. It puts the fear in me and makes me far more terrified about it. I enjoy the passion of writing, not the business side of it AT ALL. I’m not keen on the giving money part. It takes the ‘ooh laa’ of it, away and makes it far less magical. I’m an entertainer at heart..not a business woman. I can write nonsense forever. I can’t add for shit.

Loverboy and I are still waiting to hear from our audition that we did in Manchester last weekend. However, they did say a ‘couple of weeks,‘ so we’ve pretty much got ages to go yet. I’d love to get on it, as it would be something really different to my normal jiggery pokery and i’ll get to share the ‘tale’ with a ‘handsome,’ that i intend to spend the rest of my life with. (If he doesn’t drive me nuts. ) But i’m quite confident with that audition. We did the best we could really.

I was wanting to win the lottery, the last time around. But i forgot to buy a ticket. Oops! So i’m gonna win it this weekend instead…haha…and hopefully this time, i’ll remember to purchase that little pink & white ticket of ‘dreams come true.’ Forgetting to play the game, is never a good option…not just in lotteries, but in life!

But yeah, everythings dandy. I’m craving baked beans, and oh yeah ‘SIMON,’ at the ‘Pebbles care home in Leeds,’ won’t let me visit their children, because they feel i am an ‘inappropriate‘ human being because i once posed topless for an occupation. They believe the boys who are in their care may Google me, causing a great deal of an ’uncomfortable‘ air.

Now, i have a lot to say about this, because I was under the misconception that people welcomed others with open arms and warm hearts, when they wish to be charitable. Simon..at the Pebbles care home for children…in Leeds, has completely judged me on my past. I haven’t done a glamour shoot in a rather long time! Plus, if I had..it shouldn’t matter when charity is concerned. I’m not a glamour model anymore. I’m a delicious kitten, of ‘once on the telly’ ooh laa, who is a BLOGGER! I write about my life. That’s about it and well excuse me sir…but that’s not naughty?

What i found wrong, about his email,  was the fact that he immediately judged me, after seeing a couple pictures on a Google search. He didn’t take the time to find out anything else about me really? He didn’t take the time who see what i stood for? Or what i believed in! He cares for children who may or may not get JUDGED for their past…which is something that i believe is very wrong. I am a huge child advocate and believe that no matter what you can make your story a fairytale and celebrate who you are!

 I’m a kitten that’s been through a lot in life, good, bad and inbetween. I’ve seen it all and experienced it quite harshly when living in Hollywood. I managed to overcome everything, and straighten it all up to find myself in a happy, clean position in life…where i not only saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but galloped towards it merrily, owned it and basked in it, with a glory like tan line!

I have a lot in common with children who may just need someone to talk to, or have someone listen. I’ve been through it  and i understand life and people fully,with a deep and utter empathy. I’ve lived it and I want to help to make a difference, because I believe i am someone that quite bizarrely inspires others without even realizing? I’m not saying i’m a role model. I’m saying i’m a normal human being, a girl….and sometimes that’s all it takes. Simon’s really upset me. I mean, how narrow minded!! (Now, i am FORCED to put ‘House Bunny’ on repeat,  to make me feel better!) Woohoo! It is actually quite funny being far too inappropriate to visit children in care,