Not being funny anything…( I do love being a Brit. Whenever, we state that we’re not going to be funny or anything….we’re always about to be highly insulting, yet we warn you before hand out of sheer dear politeness. We’re an odd breed. We have our pens chained down to counters in banks. However, the cold hard cashola flies around freely without care.) Anyway, i have a cuppa tea. I’m having my hair Glamour Pussy groomed. I’m being tanned and eyelashed, and having my boobies talked to and i’m wanting to complain about marathon runners. Like i don’t see WHY ANYONE would want to run a marathon?? I really am finding it greatly difficult to see a decent ‘other than charity’ (and even that’s a bit much) reason as to why a ‘being,’ would AT ALL, see a dirty rubbly 26 miles, jizz with excitement, then actually want to run the whole of it…sober!! It humours me deeply. I mean, that’s honestly like an idea you come up with at 2am, when you’re blathered, in hot pink heels, in sheer drunken jest, under the stars that ‘ safety net’ all party kitties. (Well it kinda only ‘nets’ the hot ones. The rest end up with their face in gutters or making out with a fugly fujunga.) I ofcourse, have come up with such an idea in the past, (not making out with a ‘fujunga’…but drunk marathon running.) Yet that’s because i’m the Queen of Greatness and i can’t help that (*hair toss*.) I attempted to run one, there and then, but then i found a liquor store that was still open and selling booze, so i took a U-Turn and found me a better time. I tried to buy vodka, but came out with Champagne and  hidieous memories of everyone in the store mimicking my voice to me. Grown men do it all the time. The women never, because my boobs stare them out. Girls don’t play with this Vixen. *Pout-Wink-Giggle*

Anyway, why bother taking part in a 400 mile, cross country foot race to make you feel like a better human being. I mean especially the people that don’t even compete and do it for a sense of achievement. Hahaha. How dare they!!!! I couldn’t think of anything worse. The only good reasons to even contemplate one is, if you’re drunk, or making money for blind kids, or Cancer cures etc….Then i truely believe you’re a champion. Yet, I think a lot of  celebs, simply do them for a bit of ‘Look at me,’ or publicity. I’m not that stupid. I’ve realized it’s much easier to pose naked. :) (Glamour Glamour puss puss. I’ll see you at the bank, with my wine, you foot race running sweaty mess.)

I’m trying to drink 8 glasses of water today and i’m already failing. I’ve done 2. I’m over it. Hopefully, it will turn into wine and i’ll find it much easier. I don’t think water does much for me, but makes me want to wee. I understand that it rids your body of evil toxins. Yet, i quite enjoy the toxins, of ‘left over last night’  party, stewing in my body, keeping me going, keeping me feisty, making me feel still drunk. Why wash that out…and especially out of you’re Mary Poppins? Dirty!

I’m being groomed and watching music videos, whilst gays pull my hair and tell me i’m beautiful. (How i adore them.) We’re commenting on JLS and deciding their videos are only good when they wear no shirts. I mean, we get one moment of Marv, pulling his tight -tee, angrily downward in a moment of ‘we love some girl’ to dance music…then no more. It’s my favourite part of the video. They really should stick to their strong points. I mean, i write a blog and do ‘ooh’ shoots, coz i’m an egomaniac and have good boobies. They sing and take their tops off! Yet now, they’re just singing!!! Erm…eww much! Like, what’s the point. We want the whole package!! Hahahaha. (*Pervs are us*) I’m devastated.

I hate it how people always go down this road of ‘now i want everyone to take me seriously.’ It’s odd to me. I mean, surely we’re entertainers, we have fun and we make people ‘feel.’ I always call us the court jesters of the world, because we’re hear to service the a universe of people and try and make them smile. Who cares if people aren’t taking you seriously? It’s all part of the game, the fun of it! I’m not a serious person and when i’m ‘entertaining,’ it’s really quite apparent. However, when ’seriousness’ needs to occur (like when we sign contracts, make money, or discuss business) then it does! What’s the problem? I mean, for example what honestly makes you (my delicious blog reading dumplings) happier. Susan Boyle singing ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ over and over again. (UGH.) OR, Susan Boyle lifting up her skirt and doing that disgustingly delicious bottom, thrusty bum roll, that she does. I LOVE HER for that! However, now she’s turned all ‘i’ve done my hair’ Hollywood, there’s no more ‘charm‘ or disgusting bum rolls. Now, I grew up there and I’m not at all ‘Hollywood.’ (I’m lying, i am. ‘Don’t touch me, just look at me and forward all calls to my agent! Are my angles all wrong, in this lighting?’) I like me that way! It humours me.

Ok, now i’m ready and fully groomed to spend my day watching the telly. I shall have to love you and leave you, because i have a busy day of Kitty Catting, consisting of drinking 8 glasses of water. I’m winking, i’m pouting, and i’m trying men on like outfits. Join me in my life. Make yours a story to remember!! Dreams come true every single day!!! Do not let a moment pass you by, without at least having a fiddle with it! Keep it sexy. Keep it moving and make  sure you strut forward! (My eyes aren’t working? It’s like a constant ‘haze’ of beer goggles….but without the beer. Pointless!!!) I’m loving life! Hope you are tooo!!!

Hello, my little bundles of ‘boo.’ I don’t even know where to begin because so much has managed to drama itself into my life…(and i do mean ‘good’ drama, which involves party party, drunk much.) I will tell you that i’m currently back in Yorkshire. (I have to do London, the town where in which i reside, in bits and bats, as for some reason it really gets the better of me, due to gloomy, grey clouds of ‘UGH.’ I seem to get myself into a whole lot of sc’ sc’ sc’ scandalous behaviour. I find London rather ‘oopsie’ stressful, it’s so different to LA or any place up north…But don’t you worry, i can handle it, i simply don’t care to… all of the time, when i can quite luckily venture around the whole entire delicious world. Too much of anything exhausts this little Glamour Puss. I enjoy sexy spits and spats of ‘ooh laa.’ However, saying that I will tell you that i quite fancy (*winky winky*) a good solid relationship right now. Wunna wants a MAN. YeaH BABY! I really do feel i could handle it right now, with a saucy, ‘forever after’ glitter wiggle of a ‘pout’ much. I’ll admit that i do currently have a crush. One that seems to make me smile whenever i’m all alone and for no reason. I’m all a flutter, a giggle and a Vixen whipped ‘wooo bitch.’ However, i think it’s because i’m all for the month of ‘love,’ aren’t i! I want everyone to find a Valentine. Everyone to sprinkle a little ’sexual’ into February.Yet saying that, it’s early days for me and my crush, because i could go hang out with him and well he might not even like me? He might just want to get his ‘naughty naughty’ away. You know what boys are like. They play nicey nicey…and then turn on you, whilst boning your bestie. But i’m hopeful, excited and actually trying to calm the *excitement* much. I’m not too worried. I’m good at first meet ups. Infact, *polishes trophy* i excell at them. I’m a pro at short term ‘ooh laa.’ It’s the old Wunna Charm. However now i want longterm Maaaaaaan and well i think i deserve one. Boyfriend season. *Wink Wiggle* Line up…remove shirts…adore Wunna.

Anyway, lets take a graceful side step away from all that jiggery pokery, before i jinx it all, in one unfortunately sober, champion swoop. (I fancy a tipple.) I just immersed myself in the most deliciously bubbly bath, all warm and soft and magical. I need to relax, i mean after last night (It was jonny’s 21st bday party…i’ll blog about it tomorrow) i can’t seem to beable to walk,. My thighs granny ACHE! Infact, i’ve inspected my body and i have been sprinkled in baby blue and precious pinky purple bruises, that i refer to as party scars. It’s like confetti…but sore. I always use to say you should never trust a girl with bruises on her knees. Now (and purely because i have them) a girl of that sort should be underestimated. Woke up at Jonny’s in a strange bed that i never knew existed, in mens jogging bottoms, my eyelashes, sweating, hungover and after having to spend 30 minutes in a cracked out lesbians home, who let Lauren (Jonnys friend) and I into her home at 4am, simply because we were cold, after buzzing every buzzer to every appartment in the block. HAHA! We sat in blankets, by goldfish and clothes that needed to be ironed, whilst she hated on men, then scurried around looking for a rizla. Enough of that…i’m saving the nonsense for tomorrow evening. I have an eventful story. I just need to remember it.

However, before i got distracted all i actually wanted to tell you was that i intended to bathe in my bubbly bath of pure luxury, like a kitty kitty cat cat or Cleopatra, the Queen Booyah herself.. I pouted. I laid back. I stroked my legs. I shaved places, that needed a little *sizzle* off. I am referring to my legs. My ‘lady part’ is pretty much always bald. All i’m gonna say is, i wanted sexy Cleopatra bath and instead i looked down and found myself in something that could qualify me for a part in Nightmare of Elm street or a Tampax commercial that’s gone a bit wrong. Blood had whizzled in everywhere from me shaving my legs. I looked like a fucking dumpty, trying to be all Ultimate Glamour puss bubbly *pout* in a FUCKING  BATH of BLOOD! Eww…how Emo ‘never would be’ of me. I leapt out of my bath screaming. I’m squeemish. I can’t bare the idea of my inner fluids, squeezing it’s way out of punctured parts of my body…that aren’t meant to be punctured. It totally ‘urks’ me out. I looked like one of those Benny Hill slags, running around naked, with my comedy boobs doing *shocked* faces at the world, whilst i’m screaming all kinds of things Buddha would never say.

I’ve had a long day. I’m knackered. I’ve open mouth slept on a long train journey back up north, after life being littered with last minute drama. It was odd, because people kept sitting next to me, then moving to other seats?? LOL. Apparently, i was laughing out loud in my sleep like a happy….lunatic. I can’t remember doing it, therefore i obviously didn’t. I’m a floozey. I mean surely I was having proper slaggy dreams, and not ones about….clowns?  They should be happy, i was only laughing. *winky giggle.* It could’ve got a little messy. Can anyone smell trout? I spent the journey dribbling and texting my crush…who seems quite sweet right now. We’ll see.  I hope he’s mildly excited…other wise it’ll be quite unfortunate for me. Haha. Oh dear!! (I’m Watching dancing on Ice and enjoying Gary lucy in too tight Lycra, doing pretending he’s surfing arms.) *Fans herself down* I love how i’m trying to be ’sexy much’ when i have a pot of Sudo cream smeared on my face..to cure my adult acne. God is punishing me!! How can i be the Ultimate Glamour Puss with all my lumps and bumps in all the wrong places.

Omg…i am completely and utterly exhausted! Yesterday afternoon, i decided to meet up with Boyband Jonny, Jay (From sclub juniors) and Jonny’s matey mate X-Factor Scott, for a wee bit of shopping. It seems ’shopping’ lasted 15 minutes…Jay went home after not being able to face the world due to hung-overness, and well the rest of us went for a drinky poos! ONE DRINK. Black Cap. Camden.

Had a great time, lots of banter, abuse and merriment. A great deal of pouting, name dropping, phone stealing and jackpot winning went on. Then X-Factor Scott ventured off to Charing Cross to go do a wee bit of singalingin’ for a show and well Jonny and I (as per usual) found ourselves entering The Black Cap at 4pm and leaving it at 3am!!! Lovely lovely. I’m fucking exhausted!

Amazing night. Commited  to being complete demon dancing dickheads. At one point we were performing a ballet routine across the dance floor and attempting to tap dance. (I can actually tap dance.) I think ‘The Robot’ occured a few times. Lots of drinking, smoking, mirror breaks and pouting. He had great hair. I had great tits.

It was one of those nights where you drink…shit loads…and don’t get drunk!! ANNOYING!!! I hate it! I did shots and everything and stayed ridiculously sober. The Black Cap, although fun, is packed full of heart broken misfits. We met some proper whack jobs this time around. This one, punky looking thing, who had to take herbal drops in order to have a convo with me, was upset because she claimed that when she looked in the mirror she saw Dawn French. I thought she was fucking weird. Jonny liked her. (However, that’s not saying much. lol)

I was terribly well behaved all night. Jon on the other hand, who spent the majority of the night aggressive dancing, almost tongued a big fatty of an ‘ooh laa’ old woman….(he always goes out and makes out with undesirables, as i call them hahaha) and then had a tickle fight with a gay chav, who nibbled his ear and all this is after he cried…well filled up, due to his turning 21-ness, whilst i drank my smirnoff ice and laughed. I always make people make put with jonny whenever they’re awful looking, to be funny…so i can Tweet it. He was a great deal better than usual last night. He only almost did, each time.

I had to leave early. 3am, due to the weird punky Dawn french chick creeped me out, by being broken and disturbed. i think i just walked out after there was this far too long conversation the a flooded bathroom that had Me, Jon, the Gay Chav, Punky Dawn French, an Irish man doing cocaine, a weird edgey dude, and bundle of lesbians crammed into it. It was like we were the ‘you bitches will go to hell’ waiting room. Infact, i was the most decent out the lot…and that’s saying something…

Had to get up early…worked all day. I was at Bang Babes today and actually had an amazing time. LOL. I’ve had no sleep…and  I’ve only just got home and well now i need to nap, yet instead i’m going to get ready for Jonny’s BIG 21st Birthday Party at Vendome tonight. It’ll me amazing, i hope! Except he keeps forcing me to be friends with a bunch of people i don’t care to be friends with. (You can tell i’ve worked…i’m moody.)

I’ll tell you all about work tomorrow. It was actually hilarious. The day ended with me playing Chat Routlette, with a guy named Dave, who was stalking teenage french girls, who liked milk and bad music. Haha. I really do love my life.

Got to get ready!!! Knackered!

Had an AMAZING lunch with my ever ‘greatness’ gay Samuel, with a surprise guest Robbie, who came along and ate olives with us at the Lock tavern in Camden. Robbie (who i adore and i will tell you why shortly) ordered a beautiful looking sandwich, whilst we bantered. Sammie and I stuck to what we LOVE the complete most and that’s the Greek Mezze platter, with the best ‘we’ll be fat bitches by bedtime’ bowl of chips. I enjoy the platter, (it’s humus, olives, pita bread on sticks) and all kinds of things to dip your fancy in. It comes with bowls of ‘ooh laa.’ I didn’t quite eat much of mine. I kept stuffing it into my face, yet barely dented it. However, I do like play food, it makes it easier to gossip, swear and chat about hotties whilst eating. I ADORE Samuel. He was the funniest gay in all of the land today and completely filled me in on his life….dinner at The Ritz, kissing a hot Drag Queen, Dating a boy who’s in a Johnny Depp movie…there was other stuff too, but i can’t remember it, because the half a pint of Amstel i had at lunch has seemed to have hit me and made me feel dead drunky. This is why you shouldn’ t bother staying in for a week and not drinking because you’ll go to lunch, have a half pint and feel like you would after 22 malibu pineapples, laid on ya back, with ya legs at ten to two! If you’re going to be a Glamour Puss…you must make sure your alcohol tolerance level is high. If not…then you’ll have one merry drink, that will probably be bought for you, you’ll feel tremendously pissed and unfortunately then all kinds of ‘fugly muglies’ will take advantage of your good looks and much ‘easier than usual’ nature. I can drink. Really drink and let me tell you, it has proved to be highly beneficial. I’ll have 5 shots and one whole pitcher and still feel relatively sober. God talking about booze makes me wanna go out. I’m in that tipsy stage where you’re on facebook stalking hot boys you fancy, wondering if they fancy you and thinking you’re a great deal funnier than what you really actually are. (I’ve just bbmed Jonny a picture of a beautifully obese lady in a string bikini, seductively posing, for no real reason, telling him it was his ‘Ghost of Christmas Future’…and unfortunately, it was quite well accepted. lol)

Anyway, lunch was great ( i got distracted.) We bantered about being drunk, men, our love lives, our stint on the telly (the things you wouldn’t know about it.) We mentioned people with depression, moving house and then to perk up the mood a little… ROBBIE (who i will now do lunch with ANYTIME ever) flips out his phone, and produces a short series of HOT HOT yummy hot boys, (out of nowhere,) who seem to be donning the most delicious set of pectorials a pouting pussy cat has ever laid eyes on. It made my olives taste sooo much better. It was like an emergency ‘pick me up.’ Yet saying that, i am kinda jealous that everyone has a boyfriend but me. Then even more jealous that everyone has a fucking HOT one. I’m a girly girl when it comes to *swooning.* If you show me a set of good pecs, i’ll melt and go gaga (as in mushy, not Lady) and have love hearts fluttering out of every given oraphis, whilst trying to make you marry me. I like Robbie for this moment of ‘flutter.’ Sam and I were practically in love…then quickly found out one of the boys full name, so we could add him to Facebook and stalk him(There’s no time wasting.) I don’t know what i would do without ‘Hextall’ in my life. I believe i should collect hot boys and place them in a saucy Wunna Mansion, where they will be beaten if they fail to perform. *calls cupid*

On the whole…GREAT LUNCH! We were tremendously excited the entire way through it. I believe there was dancing on street corners, due to excitement after lunch and the words ‘Cutsie Wootsie’ being repeated, mid ‘baby boy’ bounce. Oh fucking hell…which reminds me! On my way to meet Sammie, ( i meet him in an alley way, usually around 1pm) a flippin’ NUN tried to manipulate me. A NUN! A lady of GOD, tried to manipulate me on Camden high street, into buying a brown bible thing. When i frowned…she told me i was going to hell. I winked at her and said, ‘I’ll chance it.‘ I feel like she wasn’t a real life nun. I’m 84% sure, she was mildly on drugs and needing to make a quick buck or two. But saying that, it is Camden. No-ones a crack head in Camden. *sarcastic face.* 

I’ve actually had a pretty wonderful day and yes, due to unfortunate circumstances beyond our control, Sammie and I were not able to Stalk Jedward this fine evening. I was gutted for a whole 5 minutes…so within seconds he sent me a shirtless picture of a stud muffin to make me feel better. Now i feel great…but oddly a bit drunk? Best day of the week, so far! Hasn’t this week dragged….

Oh and best text message i recieved last night: ‘A yorkshire mans valium, is apparently 10 pints. But i’m a gay…so ofcourse i went with the tablet.’ LOL

Okay, I’ve just heard something terrible and therefore need to write an Emergency Warning Blog to all my little girl Wunna fans….because i adore you deeply and under no circumstances think that what i have just heard is at all even remotely okay. (Don’t worry you’re not about ot get bollocked…infact quite the opposite! I’m saving you from one!)

Please do make sure that you DO NOT AT ALL, add any of the random men that may try and request to be your friend on Facebook. It may say that they are mutual friends with me, but note that they are NOT at all people i know! They are awful, nasty perverts and people that on a daily i have to block due to their disgusting use of words, towards beautiful, precious women! TO ALL WUNNERETTES, we DO NOT like men like this..no matter how hot they are!! And we demand to be treated with the upmost respect, love and ofcourse with good CLEAN kindness. If we don’t get it…we grab our heels and *strut* onward. Infact, (just so you know lovelies) that a great deal of the pervies have fake profiles, where they will post a picture of a gorgeously stunning, half naked male (a picture of a model they found online..i fall for it all the time) and pretend to be that boy. They are not. They are some lonely, overly sexed, gimp of a fugly…who don’t go on Facebook to network or make friends, but play on there to find ass…and i quite frankly despise them. Yucky!

Now, I AM very well equipped to handle these horrific excuses for men…due to my bitchy viscious tongue and my ’take no crap’ attitude. Plus, the fact that i’m not a young girl, helps that case. Therefore i DO bitch them out in the most awfullest and demeaning ways, but then i simply DELETE them from my profile. I have to handle ’dilly dally’ like this EVERYDAY. But i’m used to it. I’ve had to handle it for years, therefore I’m used to hearing men be ‘icky’ and i’m extremely used to dealing with them and with the greatest of ease.

Not all men are like this, we know that and yeah i do get a flurry of messages from lovely handsomes, all over the world on a daily. HOWEVER know that at the same time, and EVERYDAY, i get a flurry of PERVERTs, with no sense of ‘correctness’ who will verbally abuse me in a sexual manner. They come of ALL ages! I don’t wanna hear you ‘didn’t get the memo.’ I’m telling you now…they do!

Any MAN who is adding a 15 year old girl on Facebook, is hidieous. AWFUL! And as little girls, at times you may feel insecure, feel a bit unloved, not be so experienced with boys, or maybe feel ’not as pretty’ as the most popular girl in school. We ALL go through it. I certainly have. Yet these men…who i refer to as precious little perverts, KNOW how to work you. They will tell you you’re the most beautiful thing in the world ever…to make you ‘lull’ towards them and they will tell you not to listen to me. Men often get mad when i have to ‘cold shoulder’ them or neglect them (it’s an ego thing…i have plenty of that, therefore i can read them) and they usually immediately become verbally abusive. Ignore them. I want you to know that i’m not underminding your intelligence…You’re smart enough to spot a lovely ‘perv.’ But we all make mistakes at times…i certainly am the Queen of it, therefore i just want to give you a reminder of what i think is 100% morally wrong. (And i have very loose morals.)

NOTE: I think you are beautiful and i’m here to help you KNOW that you are, without anyone else needing to reassure you of it. I know what it’s like to be a little girl…I’ve been one. And TEAM WUNNA beats, TEAM PERV anyday. I have pervs running off and crying every minute of every hour. Now, I joke a lot. But know, that i’m not joking now, as this properly ‘urks’ me out. I can’t bare the thought of you having to deal with all that ‘junk’ that i am ever so blessed with. I had no idea you were…until you all told me today and you have my sincerest apologies. Thankyou for being smart! I mentor girls everyday and i LOVE you very much. Do not listen to the fugly pervy, boner ridden flubs. If you have added any…and they are talking to you, even if they are being nice….ignore them, then DELETE them. If they are bothering you, tell ME their names and i will DELETE them and report them. Do not add any men you do not know on Facebook, regardless, as to whether they say they KNOW me. They DO NOT! I do not talk to them…EVER!!!! I can’t actually believe they’ve done that and the stuff i have been told they’ve been saying to you repulses me….and i’m a floozey!

And if you are one of those blokes (*close your ears & eyes little ones*) Don’t be a fucking digusting, lonely ass, piece of shit perverted wank machine. Have a little decency. Just because your life is sexually screwed up, don’t screw up the lives of our young. They need love, support and encouragement.  At times like this i always believe the wrong doer, simply needs a *cuddle.* However, the fact that you might put your cyber hand, up my cyber skirt…makes me believe I would rather rummage in a public loo and eat the ‘dollops’ of others, than commit to a hug of any sort. I guess my names been used for a lot of little things…but it’s never been used to scout and perv on teenage girls before. Loser. Loser. Disgusting. User. This is why girls like ME, do not like men like YOU. Done! *Mummy needs Wine!* Scroll. Delete!

Today has gone exceptionally well, even if i do say so myself. I’ve had a delicious dinner, Jay (From SClub Juniors) and Boyband Jonny (who is refusing to tweet) have tried to manipulate me into breaking my packed of not going out, yet i *fanned myself* and resisted temptation. They’re like the devil boys those two. They wait until i try and better myself and then hack away at my ‘party’ weakness like boyband swaying, air punching, dance, 8 count, imps, on crack. Also, I’m upset at my poor choice in blow drying dolls. I mean they did a great job. I’m highly grateful. However, like i said, I enjoy a Hollywood curl, a Volume of utter Pussy Galoreness. My hair suggests that i may own a heated egg roll cart in Soho on Wednesdays and not even by a ‘Peep’ show.

This is why you must always let gays do your hair. They see the vision of ‘delicious,’ the over the top glamour that you try to perfectly paint. They see the ‘Va Voom,’ the magic, the feathers, the diamonds, the disgusting amount of ‘oooh laa’ that needs to be dripping away like pure glittery gold from your entire delicious soul. I let a nice lady do it. And yeah..great job. My hair looks…nice. *Grabs heated cart* I want MORE! My hair is not fit for Wunna land and i am the lady herself! (Why is there sperm on the back of my cigarette packet? Oh! It ‘damages‘ sperm. Luckily i don’t have any. Awful looking things. However, saying that, it is odd, that at one time i was a mere ‘wiggle’ of sperm, being shot out of my Fathers ‘meat stick.’ He smoked. Look what he created! ME!!! (Make what you will, of that!) I can’t believe i survived that wiggly race to become ‘baby-fied.’ Who am i kidding? Course i won. I beated those other bitches out the way with foul language and a need for stardom. They probably ended up on a tissue and got flushed down a loo. * Losers* ) I love where my blog takes me. Haha..! From hair do’s to sperm on a delicious breath of a whim. I’m going to get into very big trouble, by my family for talking about my fathers ‘meat stick.’ We’ll get them threats from the Buddhists again. Last time, they called me a ’slag.‘ Which might i add…isn’t really very Buddhist of them, now is it? I do love them deeply. I only wish they loved me back. *Grabs sack, ready for hate mail.* Sorry Mum.

I feel right on cue, career wise now. I don’t think being in London does me any favours. I’m easily distracted by party and eye candy and yeah I’m constantly needing to be reined down…But i’m on my way up, due to a new found discipline.Living in London is actually harder than living in Hollywood. But I’m learning from life and it’s truely what i believe, is the only thing that any one ‘being’ can learn from. Life and people. Watch everyone around you. Observe how they act, what they do right, what they do wrong. Learn what works for you and commit to it. I am always watching…even when you think i’m not. I observe EVERYTHING and try to talk to as many people as possible. And it’s not actually to network. It’s actually to get to know them, and find out what makes them tick. Whether they be a movie star or a homeless person. (*Flashback* of me slapping my boyfriend of the time and screaming at him in Los Angeles for trying to hit on a homeless lady! He laughed and assured me he was giving her a dollar. I think i shouted ‘I said give her a fucking dollar, NOT ask for a FUCKING blowjob.’ Haha…Good times!) Oooh phones ringing…

..ok, i’m back. I have to work on Saturday now. ALL DAY, until 5pm. I’m gonna be knackered. Anyway, what i was trying to say before was? Oh yeah…you can’t expect people to be interested in your life…if you do not take a common interest in theres. I say it all the time. People never listen. But that’s fine, you can just let me take ALL the stars out the sky. Even the ones with YOUR name on them. Ouch!

Other than that, my Black Berry ball jammed up again today. Annoying. I couldn’t read my bbm’s, or scroll downward. I complained on Twitter about it all and my my, you all (my lovely Followers of  sexuality) came up with the most ‘ooh laa’ remedies to help, this little tragic pussycat. Yippee! I love you for it! I believe i was told to ‘blow’ on it. I have previously been told to put vodka on it. I was also told to take it apart, leave it, rummage with it, sternly tell it off…however i did it my way and went with seducing it. Hurrah! Now it works! I didn’t buy this ‘rack’ for nothing! A bit of dirty talk loosens any tight ball.

I’m being beckonned….i must go kittens x

It’s almost 1am, i think i have nappy rash and i am completely and utterly BORED out of my boobied fucking box! This is my week of staying in every night and not going out of the Razzle McDazzle, to prove to myself that I can, and well it seems that I can’t….and i don’t care. I’m a socialite. I need PEOPLE! I’m literally watching paint dry and dying away slowly..yet prettily. I honestly do not know how people do it!! I mean, i always call those people ‘gusset scrubbers,’ Yet even they’re one up on me…i have no gussets to scrub. The sheer fact that that would interest me thorougly…worries me.

Why am i even like this? Why can’t i manage to be home in the comfort of my own home for a whole week (note, that we’re only on Tuesday) and be A OK with the whole dealio? To be honest and i will kill myself for saying this, but it’s not even about the ‘getting drunk.’ I just enjoy the ‘meeting of people,’ the carefree, danger, fun fun, experience of ‘doo lally.’ I’m a Kitty Cat. Homes cool, i’m grateful i have it…but i am 100& sure this is how people go insane. I mean you never want me to be bored, because then i do foolish dickhead things, that consist of trouble, bullying and well i guess boys! There’s not even any entertaining pervs on Facebook to lull me in! Even the pervs aren’t out! (Well apart from one that is begging to sniff my crotch…which i find odd?)

What i should’ve done is invite people round. Yet ofcourse, i think of the good idea, far to late, where i can no longer put it to use! I mean i had one friend text me stating that they would’ve come round if i told them to. However, now they’ve taken 2 Nytols, to muddle their body clock back to ’sensible,’ and can no longer see. I told them that ’seeing was for losers.’ They told Me, that i should be a motivational speaker for the blind! lol

Other than that, i believe i should have a wedding. (See what happens when i’m bored.) Infact, I’ve have about 3 weddings already, i think, in this lifetime so far. I like Weddings…just not marriages. I’ve never been a Bridesmaid, but always been a Bride. Infact, i’ve never been to anyone elses wedding but my own. (That might be a lie?) But it’d be nice to see someone else utter vows of devotion to a darling….before the divorce. No-one wants to invite me to there wedding. The Brides think i’ll wear white. I would too. I don’t think there should be rules at such an event. It’s about unity and love, not what i’m wearing. (I always make it about what i’m wearing or ME!)

Ugh, now i’ve run out of booze. Not only is there boredom, yet there’s no booze to quench it. Anyway, that is all. I was just wanting to report my excitement.  I still do feel as though i have nappy rash. Bizarre really? It feels like i’ve wet myself all day, yet I haven’t? I believe it’s my vagina crying and telling me she’s fed up with it all too. Ah well…not long to go…

I enjoy how my Love Horoscope on Facebook, that is meant to tell me my daily future in the lovely world of ‘romance,’ ( I even have it on my profile page, due to my fondness of it) has given up completely. Everyone else gets a long rosey paragraph of ‘Happy ever after.’ My begins ‘Chrissie,‘ then completely stops. Hahahah! Oh dear!