Good morning my little dew dropped glints of *wink.* You know that you’re a wonderful human being when you wake up and find a tiny Burmese, dribbling baby, in a pink romper…snoring in your topless cleavage, out of nothing but pure love and comfort. Usually it’s Keiran nuzzling on in there, ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘arr-ing’ and telling me he loves me. (Keiran’s not only quite partial to a bit of boob, especially it if comes with a side of ‘ just for him’ shimmie. Yet is also comforted by a cushion that is attached to the chest of a girl…with nipples. He’ll have a suck. Why not? I guess men are comforted by girls to can snuggle them like they are their ‘Mama.’)
Anyway, yes…my apologies for getting distracted. Woke up this morning with Baby Ruby snoring in my cleavage. It was weirdly glamourous in a way. Yet i mainly adore it, not just because ofcourse (and quite politically correct) she is my little world of ‘coochie coo’ and i’m here to guide and protect her. (Just tottered my way to nuresry and dropped her off in my beige faux fur. I kissed her and left lipglossed lips on her baby tanned left cheek. The nannies giggled at my poor, yet charming parenting, then as they told me that Rubes had been crawling around the playpen doing a ‘taught to her by Keiran’ Tiger claw, with a DIVA growl at the other children… well mainly boys named ‘Finlay,’ we left and shivered through the frost by a church.) Not actually sure if it was the frost or the church that was making me *shiver?* Both kill my sex life.
But yes..and again i managed to get distracted, i loved waking up with a baby in my boobs because for once it made my life seem waaay less ‘Brothel’ and more ‘Mother Earth.’ I’m not quite sure, why everyone always jumps to tarnish me with a big old ‘Brothel’ brush? (Maybe the naked modelling? 🙂 ) I’ve never even NEARLY been to a brothel ever. The closest i’ve ever gotten was when i wa shaving to couch surf in LA, before i was ‘glitzy.’ I had to stay at Jeff jacks appartment, which looked like a building site on the inside, with drains, wooden planks and wine glasses. It was actually former brothel. Jeff was sweet, on a quest for fame…and ofcourse ginger. Good guy, hope he’s doing well. I was always guided by the night stars. He at the time was guided by…pot. 🙂
[Me in his ‘Former Brothel’ appartment. I look quite glam to say i was living on a couch.]
Last night, Keiran, Ruby and i tumbled off to TGI’s for a bit of a family dinner. We had an amazing time by boneless chicken wings, and crayons. We love it there, simply because we’re creatures of habit. We go to the same places and order the same thing. We like what we like and hardly steer away from it. I personally love that in a man. When a gent orders the same thing over and over again, you know they are a one woman man. (Even if they weren’t before.) Infact, right now Keiran is watching me blog and having an actual wank because he says he ‘likes my top.’ No joke. He’s wanking.
Anyway, we get quite a lot of attention when we venture out, from eyes that sneakily peek into our bubble. We both enjoy it and like being a bit of a glammy family. Even Ruby adores it. (It’s hard blogging, when you have a human wanking to your left.) We talked about the future and his little eyes lit up when i snogged him.
All our dinners are kinda like dates. They’re magical and delicious. Back in the day, my dates would end with a Hollywood gent, trying to pull my knickers off me and telling me he didn’t want anything serious. Now i have a man who ends up with stickers of polar bears on his ‘model’ face and out of his undying love for my..well our…daughter. I love it. We’re a family. he told me how much he adored me, then i convinced him that i wasn’t a Gold Digger.’ (I had randomly ended up with a sticker of a ‘bag of gold’ and a shovel on my right wrist.
Anyway, he left the keys in the ignition and his phone on the dashboard. Hurrah! Therefore his gut instinct made him rush out to save his property. OKAY…Me being the twat that i am, convince myself that it would be a really good idea at this point to tell the waiter that it’s his birthday..when it’s NOT AT ALL his birthday, just so the entire troup of ‘happy waiters’ would come and sing to him. It’s funny…in my head. I committed to it, FORGETTING that Keiran doesn’t like lying or surprises. I did both. Oops.
Dinner’s been had. We’re in love. He has Ruby on his lap and he’s looking at me with eyes that couldn’t love me any more if they tried. OUT OF NOWHERE trolley in the ‘Happy singing birthday waiters,’ all *clappy,* all loud and all extremely pleased to celebrate anything really. I love folk of that sort. Reminds me of my youth.
Keiran glares at me,with polar bear stickers on his face and a Burmese baby in his arms. He gave me a glare that didn’t look to happy, clappy or loud. Oops! He sort of got taken unaware and maybe didn’ t like it, even though he pretended he did. I felt awful. Then after he paused and said ‘Who’s Birthday?’ I bend over and uttered the words, ‘I’ve lied.’
He went with it. Blagged it for me. Was stood on the booth bench, cheering, being sang to and with Ruby in his arms.
Life was wonderful after that.
Then we went home to bed.
He’s just said to me that he ‘can’t believe how we’ve both come from these full on lives of ‘party-party’ to meet each other and IMMEDIATELY become one anothers absolute life.’ (And i don’t mean the vodka, you pricks. 🙂 )
Excited about the future. I still need to tell you about his romantic treasure hunt gift!