At Loverboy’s alone, craving chocolate crepes and wondering what all the weird noises i can hear of doors opeening are? I’ve spent the day working, yet only to come home to find an email inbox filled to the brim with ‘not what i wanted to hear’ news. I’m not gonna let it bungle my b’wungle, in anyway. As a day, is a day and just as it dawns, after 24 hours it will be the past. Infact, as each second *tocks* forward..you are filing it into your past! I’m happy that i’m living mine the way i’ve always wanted. However, i really do HATE bad email inbox cyber mail. It’s more the ‘not getting my own way’ that annoys me. Yet it’s Christmas, [ring bells here- down rum] therefore most things sloooow down during this time of year. I never knew why that was? But it’s true. Weird really, because with me being a December baby, i feel most powerful at this particular time!! (Only 10 days til i’m 30!!!) I feel as though no-one’s grasping my ‘ooh laa.’ GET WITH IT!!!
After work, i spent quality time with my Mum…who it’s the loveliest human being i know. Then i guzzled under a boiling hot shower, in order to get 4 layers of fake tan off my pretty sorry self. I am aware that this is not normal Wunna behaviour. However, my spray tan has made, my right had look remarkable speckly…like i almost have some severe and rather repulsive skin disorder. I look like a chav, who’s hand may have got burnt alive by gypos, who spit and everything. But i have ace hair! Does that cancel my disgusting hand out?
Not much has happened today, apart from a clairvoyant lady telling me that my path is lit with stars and i’m one of the luckiest girls she has ever met. I believe that 2010 was the year that i totally RE-FOUND my true self. A self that had been lost under a thick unhealthy smear of booze, glitter, sin and lipstick. Then dolloped off with a need to impress others, with foulness. This year everything changed and i got my kitty cat booty together and i’ve never been stronger. There is not a single broken piece to my swagga and that’s an achievement. I’m 100% happy with my life, my surroundings, my world and my new changes. I can’t believe i managed it!!! Well done me!! (I have ‘Columbo’ the kitten trying to sit on my left boobie…whilst i blog. He can probably smell milk. ) I love that i got excited by a handful of DIY fake snow today, whilst being surrounded by muscle men and grandads working out in mirrors. It’s like a fricking circus!
Other than all that (UGH i hate my email inbox, right now) i spent the day making my friend Mark dress up as
I’ve just had a lemon chicken dinner, after a trip to Morrisons in Pontefract and in a too tight for me bra. I hate too tight for me bras. I’m a spirit that despises feeling trapped, strapped down or suffocated. I’ve *pinged* the back of it open, but now i’m all worried that my boobs’ll go saggy and gravity will fuck me over…because it’s good like that innit!
I worked the whole entire day today. I enjoyed it. It was pretty good. I love work and pretty much because i have ace colleagues. I go to work to make friends,wear my outfits, make money and hair-toss. Life couldn’t be better. Yet i really didn’t have too much to do? I’m not quite sure what my duties are exactly? But i’m not complaining, i really do have it easy. I do however prefer having things to do…i enjoy responsibilty these days. (Eww..i can’t even believe i said that!)
Anyway to sum it all up, I’ve had a boy named ‘Matt’ all of a sudden realize that i used to be a Glamour model and therefore get on all fours, as many times as he could, in order to replicate my poses, with a pout..whilst telling me that i could have a free bag of Monster Munch if i ‘got my gash out.’ LOL. I then applauded ‘Ross’ for getting back with his girlfriend and watched an old black man cry on Youtube with ‘Gazz.’ The subject of fighting occured, where the boys descirbed their techniques of drunken brawl. ‘Gazz’ will apparently go balistic, clear a dancefloor and throw chairs, if you lift his girlfriends skirt up. ‘Ross’ is no longer allowed to even go out drinking with is ‘doll’ of choice and simply to to his unreliable fisticuffs. ‘Matt’ claims that he does not start fights but creates wars, by having a go at every single person in the entire vicinity…before getting his arse devastatingly kicked. (He apparently once did a ‘run up’ charge at Gazz, with blood smeared upon his face, in the process of doing a ‘flying bird kick’..only ot have Gazz catch him in the air and rugby tackle him to the floor…and all of this over the man flu and beef & tomato Pot Noodle.
Everyone’s feeling a bit fluey right now..which sucks because there is no way in HELL that i can get it. I’m preggo…i can’t take ‘cure it’ pills like everyone else, goddamit!! I will die of it..glamourously ofcourse, but its’ still not worth having everyone cough in my face, or touch me. I am to be looked at..not touched. If you have the flu, you are to pretend like you’re next to me talking.
But yeah..had a really good time at work! Laughter, cheek and piss taking. It was pretty much the coldest day ever and i’m quite positively sure everyone, but me, is on drugs. Yet like really. (There are currently Albinos on my telly, praising the Lord and with ORANGE hair. They have chosen this colour…which pretty much says it all!!! )
Other than all that, didn’t do much at work and dealt with a couple of Wakefield bitcheroos, had a pink piece of thread placed in my hair repeated and was non-stop ridiculed for my previous internet porny pictures..which has been the biggest and funniest regret of my life! I have the word ‘star’ tatooed on the inside of my left arm and Matt wanted to biro the word ‘Porn’ infront of it.
It’ s funny how two slaggy hours of your life…can change everything.
Love you mucho, but now Loverboys getting annoyed by the fact that the attention is not on him! I must tend to my baby boo and because he made me chicken. Totally having schloer tonight! Woohoo!
I’m LOVING July. It’s really stretching a smile across my little minx like face of over bronzed, and slanted eyes of bedroom! I’m just feeling OVER THE MOON and almost like I could leap through candy caned fields of delight, (Inspired by the fact that both Loverboy and I watched ‘Willy Wonka’s choccie factory’ yesterday) and paint the town peach with a side of Pina Colada. (Big Brother 11 is currently in my background, and John James is singing about combine harversters. I haven’t had time to watch it at all, this year due to nights out, dinners, love, shots and baby making. However, saying that if you add *work* and *working it* to that equation…i really haven’t had time to do much of anything!
Being back up north has been thoroughly enjoyable. I just felt like i needed a time out, to spend tapping Loverboy on the arm, and looking up at him with my eyes of bimbo, and telling him to give me a ‘love’ with a *giggle.* We’re really close right now, and glueing together more and more each day. Obviously i’ve been away working for a wee bit, which makes my poor ‘Handsome‘ feel half full. He’s not a boy who enjoys being abandoned in any way. But neither am I! I’m truely quite coupley and well the reason why our relationship works, is because we live each loving moment like it’s our last. We’re not afraid to adore each other, and tell each other how much we care…when we are together, we are in contact with each other emotionally. I’ve never felt this way about a boy in my life and well he cooks a mean
I actually feeling AMAZING today. I feel feisty, sexy, and dipped in a gooey pink ooze fest of ‘oooh laa laaa.’ I guess all i needed was sleep and a Weetabix.Who knew?? I’m just a believer in ‘moving’ as opposed to standing still in time and dying slowly…because that’s what we’re technically doing…therefore i’m choosing to do mine ungracefuly. However, sometimes i forget that the jiggery pokery, the madness, the cheeky chappy elbow dancing, needs a moment of ‘stillness’ in order to really beable to hit the heights of Greatness. I want to annoy people with my sexy nuisancing, aswell as put a smile on their face. ( I mean everyone has a Chrissie Wunna tale to tell..and when they tell it, it always ends in laughter and a roll of the eyes.) Basically, for the full Wunna effect..the *sizzle* of deliciousness, needs the odd day off. Yesterday, i felt almost 92 years old. I was ready to dye my hair purple, throw my beige granny mac on and change my name to Nora. But now…(yeah yeah bitches) there’s no stopping this honey! Watch out…I’m armed with a morning cocktail and a pout that you only wish you had! Mmmmmmkaaay! (Do some Bimbo threatenning thug face here. Or abusively spank an erotic Panda, with a juicy palm of ‘ouchy.’)
Chrissie has asked me to do a quick blog post for her to let people know what she’s up to today (apparently she’s too busy missing trains to be able to do it herself)
She’s currently on a train to Wales where she is appearing on a radio station called NH Sound (1287am) between 2pm and 4pm.
She’s going to be doing an interview and some live karaoke (that alone must be worth tuning in for!), they’ve also got a surprise gift for her or something too.
After the radio show she’s going to be out drinking around Abergavenny!
Just got out of the most bubbliest of baths. I love a luxury bath, that i can ‘ooh this is lovely’ in. Give me bubbles, wine, peace and the odd kitten to look at, and i’m in heaven. The best thing about it was that i managed to achieve a not too hot, yet not too cold bubbly bath….Infact it was deliciously perfect. I mean, i can’t stand it when i *pout-hair toss* in and it’s a cloudy cold excuse of a bath, (i get mad at myself) and feel like i’ve just stood in a puddle. (Even weeing yourself is warmer.) Cold water in a bath, completely takes the luxury out of the experience. I like my water HOT..steamy hot. However, not too hot, that i have to creep into it like it might attack me or like i got visciously bullied at school. If it doesn’t make me go ‘Oooh’ (and that’s with anything,) then you can send it right back and give me a better version. Be it baths, boys, beach balls or booze. (Infact no…i’ll drink anything.)
Anyway, (i rambled on then) instead of being a decent and normal human being, I got out my bath, because i heard Footloose playing. Easily distracted. I leapt out of ’bath time’ with a sincere excitement, put on a pair of knicker knacks and with a kitty *grab* of a baby pink towel, I ran like my tragic life depended on it, to perform my version of the song….naked, in the living room and with other family members. (They were clothed. Thank fucking GOD.) I did have a towel on by the way. I mean i don’t show my Father my boobs.
Anyway, my version of anything is either insane, slaggy, party party, or slaggy. I went with insane, but had the best time ever much. I was literally leaping gleefully off fine pink leather sofas and doing split and *shocked* faces to Footloose, whilst watching ‘Kevin Bacon’ being all odd on my telly. It kinda made my luxury bath pointless. Infact, i also got tangled in my own hair extensions in the midst of excitement. Twice today to! My weave is eating me alive.
On the boy front. I’m meant to be calling Latin Lover tonight. He’s in a different country to me, therefore i need to remember the time zones, and well i can’t remember anything sober. I mean, the other day whilst walking down Camden road, i was explaining to a friend that i’m either existing really really drunk, or really really hungover and nothing in between. I’m sober right now, and yeah…it’s weird. My brain doesn’t work or anything.
Fernando…the hottie that fancies me in Italy, (I don’t know if you remember, but i used to talk to him last year, after my awful much break up with Jonny,) he talked to me today, saying he was single, and wanting me to go Italy and be his etc… (the usual.) However, i remember us falling out, simply because he believed i wasn’t 100% attentive. Like if i didn’t immediately reply to his messaged, he’d throw a Queeny fit and well…that’s a turn off to me. A ‘Fit’ i don’t mind. I mean it’s hot when someone says ‘I don’t like it when you do that..so dont.” I like people who aren’t afraid to tell you how they feel, what to do, what not to do, and speak their mind. HOWEVER, throwing a tantrum, like acting like a little spoilt bratt and committing to a child-like ‘You’re obviously too busy for me and other things are more important than me…so FINE..i’m gonna delete you,’ is firstly quite funny and secondly far too girly for me to be attracted to you anymore. But i talked to him. I just don’t fancy him. With me, it’s weird, you get your shot to make an impression. I’m a tolerant girl. Yet once i’m FULLY done. I’m done. I won’t be venturing off to Italy. But great guy!
I’ve noticed that a great deal of men sort of DEMAND my attention….even the ones i don’t know and i don’t know why?? They’re naturally possessive creatures i think? Yet i’m a full, frillied playful social butterfly. Therefore my independance and ‘nitter natter’ pisses them off, because they feel i don’t need them. I’m the girl every boy wants to tame. They want to nail me with a ‘PROPERTY OF..’ stamp, and execute a wooing method of ‘YOU ARE MINE!‘ I don’t actually mind if i am actually with them, but if i’m not…. they kinda need to back off and let me do my thang! I think it makes them feel powerful? Taming the wild one, making her yours.
If i don’t know the boy, i honestly don’t at all care. If i do and they’re a friend, i’m attentive if they don’t MAKE me be. (I hate being MADE to do anything.) If they’re my best friend, Like Jonny,
‘I’ve only had 3 conversations with him, in my entire life!!! And two of those we’re during sex Wazza!!!!’
Morning all, i’m feeling delicious today. I honestly can’t believe how content i am. My being is a bubbling. I’m excited!! I have no idea why, yet i’m going to give the credit to the countryside. Waking up to chipper chirping birds, seems to be largely more theraputic than waking up to sirens and swear words. It’s a beautiful day in Yorkshire today. I’ve had a stroll around the gardens, feeling the wind on my face and looking into the sky. (Even though my eyes don’t work.) It really does feel good and is completely changing my ‘ooh laa.’ I mean, a few days ago i was peeling myself off a club floor, stumbling down a busy London street at 5am, with a title of ‘slag,’ whilst getting thrown out of trendy clubs for ‘bashing.’ Now, i feel like a Goddess. One that is almost untouchable. Yorkshire reminds me of LA. They’re a lot more simplier than you would think. Wide open spaces. I likey!
Then i was told I was allergic to my fake tan lotion. Unfortunately i was told this AFTER i had smeared it all over my body. No wonder i have lips like guppy fish? There’s me thinking ‘oooh who needs collagen, when your a glamourglamour puss?‘ *Places diamonds around neck* However, it’s far less delicious. I have a disease. I’m allergic to my tanning lotion. Next my face will swell and no-one will want to make out with me. (Who am i kidding…i have tits…everyone will.)
I’m watching a woman on tv, who is married to the ‘Britains Most Unromantic’ man. What a title! Lucky girl! Hahaha. Poor Darling. I don’t know how she lets him get away with that, but it does humour me. When everyone else is getting their hand gently held in a moment of ‘i love you.‘ (Which as we all know, truely means, ‘YOU are MINE bitch!’) That poor lady, is getting locked in a cupborad and told to make 22 bacon butties after being farted on. But apparently it’s ok, because the people at ‘This Morning’ have FORCED him to wear a shirt and give her a tiny crystal teddy bear. But we all know that when she gets home, she’s gonna get a ‘back hand.’
I literally woke up giggling today…i was like a cutesy, winking, wiggling….lunatic. I hid under my sheets, like i was mentally ill and played ‘peek a boo’ with myself?? What is happening to me? Where’s my fucking wine!!!!?!!! This place is like rehab. I haven’t had a drink in…omg if you can’t remember the last time you had a cocktail, you’re doomed. (I think it was…yesterday?) I then text my Wunnerettes. (The little girls that i mentor.) I did it sober today, so i was nicer than usual. However, i think i’m doing an alright job? I mean, one girl on Twitter informed me that I tell her that i ‘LOVE’ her more than her own Mother. LOL. I am apparently the reason she knows she is beautiful. (Awww…. I love it much much. There you go…proof that i’m AMAZING!)
We as women are BEAUTIFUL. We are the object of everymans desire…don’t let them tell you any different, they try to, but i have none of it! I’ve noticed that a great deal of women sell themselves short. Don’t bother. Tell men what you want and need. When you do…they listen. I’m as feisty as they come…and really it’s never done me wrong. When i’ve been pathetic and all ‘i’ll do everything you need’ they move that inch and take a mile. The less you give, the more they want to do for you. They’re men. They’re meant to have the HUNTER in them. If not…then pack them a bag and send them onto the next sorry soul. *Hair toss*
I still haven’t booked my hotel for Liverpool yet! I’m doing it today. Mark Byron and Natalie Rooney have been helping me, via the art of Cyber land. I can’t wait to get extensions tomorrow. I’m getting my few extra inches sewn in, in Doncaster. My glorious town of birth. Hopefully, it won’t take long? I mean i’m going in the morning to avoid the crowds.
’Lashes’ messaged me last night. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Then a different boy text me with the words, ‘Hey, i really want to meet up.Are you okay with keeping it casual for now?’ Aside from those boys, because i do know them and have met them. I’m going through this bizarre phase, where men around the world are pretending that I am their girlfriend…which quite frankly is ruining my real love life. I’m flattered…However, it’s one thing to point at me and say ‘I’ve had that.‘ (Geezer! Geezer!) And another to actually utterly believe that i am your real life girlfriend and declare it to the world, when i’ve actually never had the utter pleasure of meeting them…like ever. Lol. There’s really no need to do that fellas. Just build a shrine and worship me…it works better. I will be there in Pussy Cat spirit.
God, i was feeling so completely on top of the world today. I was happy, almost ‘leaping from cloud to cloud’ blissfully happy. Then some awful middle aged woman, gave me a 20 minute lecture…almost 5 minutes ago, when she saw me so happy and in order to make herself feel better about her choices in life, exercised her moral right to lecture me, on how awful i am for being a Glamour model. *snooze* Then she followed up with, how i will never find a decent man because of it. I’m really happy. I know hundreds of good decent men. The man i married…(yeah we’re divorced) was a pretty decent man. And ofcourse, i’ll strut into a venue and greedy man eyes, glare at me, who are on a hunt for one thing only. Yet, i’m not a buffoon. I’m very able to recognize the men who truely loves me…and the ones who have fallen for the fantasy. I hate people who lecture me. I never lecture people on their lives, yet often others shuffle into mine and try to edit it. You don’t know how to live my life! Live yours! Don’t attempt to change mine, in order to make your story seem worthwhile. I tried to be humourous with her, and play it off tragically. (I don’t like having to do that…as your life is your life, you do not ever need to justify it, with humour.) But there was really no point. I noticed she didn’t have a wedding ring on. A jogger then past us on the road, mid conversation…he looked at me, i smiled, she despised him for having a peek. Then decided to lecture me some more. *Rolls eyes.* Then i lost it and basically informed her that he looked at me because i looked happy, and excited and actually smiled back. I acknowledged his presence for 2 merry minutes. ’He didn’t look at you, because you gave an impression of misery. You gave him no reason to look. You already turned your back on him, without even knowing who he was.’ The lady actually said nothing and walked away. (God, i hope she got rained on.)
I 100% completely love my life and refuse to apologize for it. I simply smiled and told her that I’m living my life, my story and well i’m HAPPY. I LOVE it. I cherish every kitty moment of it and yeah just because you hestitate to make moves and play with your life, your dreams…it does not make you a better person. Infact, it places you in a position of inferiority. I’m out there living, making mistakes, happily adventuring, picking myself up and laughing all the way. Which places anyone on a superior platform. You make mistakes, you learn fast! You become a Pro at life! *Wiggle*
On a more interesting note…I’m getting my hair extented on Friday morning!! Woohoo! Nothing makes a girl happier than a few extra inches! I extend it for Glamour Puss Volume, and not particularly for length. (Quite telling actually! *Wink wink*) After my shoot today, i gazed into the mirror and fancied a bit of a ‘bump up.’ People called people, who made people get me an appointment for Friday morning. I’m genuinely excited. I love LOVE being a girl. I enjoy pampering. I enjoy ’ooh laa.’ It’s the only thing i care to spend my money on….other than ‘Good times.’
Whilst i was wiggling around in excitement, one of my jolly dolly gays turned around and claimed that i should maybe go into inspiring people ‘hardcorely‘ via the art of my bloggage. Like be a giant ‘selp help’ book. I just looked at him cheekily and said, ‘Or maybe i could just sit here, play with my boobs and name all my new range of lip glosses, after the different boys i’ve made out with?’ He’s gay…i won. I believe he had a moment of disgusting soberiety. I beat him with sticks then forced him to go into McDonalds, where the air smells of minium wage and bring me quarter pounders. He weeped a little. I swore….a lot!
Had a lovely convo with a guy friend today about Love. I need advice all the time, due to me making really rubbish decisions, when i need to be making great ones. He told me that he makes a point of ONLY making a proper effort with girls that he could actually see as potential girlfriend material. I then asked what he meant by a ‘proper effort?’ I mean, we’re girls..we want to know all this rubbish! His answer ‘stalking.’ HAHAHA! Then he followed up with ‘…andspending my every last given penny onthem.‘ lol.
I also realized that i’m far to Americanised when it comes to love. Well not Americaniesd, but HOLLYWOODY. In Hollywood, there’s no time lost. You will walk out on the street, the boys will come at you from every angle going, and immediately ask you to be there’s. They’ll leap from bushes, hang out of cars, follow you home….shout out your beauty. Then they sleep with you, decide if they actually want to date you. Have a really long 4 week relationship with you and then tell you they can no longer do it anymore. WOOHOO! (I remember trying to sleep with Jonny after knowing him for moments. He was terrified.) I’m pretty much used to very forward boys and therefore I’m very forward when it comes to move making. I mean, it’s a fast moving town. I’m used to boys doing the leg work and telling me how AMAZING I am, every precious moment of every given day. I’m learning that England is different. The boys are a great deal more timid.
I had a guy, ask me to give him a compliment earlier and i couldn’t do it. Odd right? I mean, i give boys i know compliments all the time. Or even boys i like. I don’t just dish them out willy nilly. I say it, when i mean it. We know this! Plus, i’m not really used to hitting on boys or given them compliments. Anyway, then i actually realized that MY job ( in the world of finding a man to date,) is a rather different process. I stand. They come…and all i simply have to do is state a simple ‘Yes‘ or ‘No.’ I mean, don’t actually like men who crave for compliments from me, because my rebellious streak will deliberately refuse to do it, out of sheer humour. If i think you’re hot, i will tell you. It’s not a difficult thing for me to do. Today, a great deal of gentleman have been trying to trick me into giving them my phone number. I haven’t AT ALL..not even once. I don’t like trickery. It bores me. Then they get ‘huffy puffy’ when i don’t completely do as they say. *whocares* If i like you….i will give it to you and in a moment flat. I don’t enjoy being pressured into things. I’m a Kitty cat, who’s looking for a man to tame her. I’m a HANDFUL. I’m not looking for someone to pressure me and trick me with worthless amounts of Tom Foolery. I’m looking for love, fun and happiness…..Darlings! *wink*
Woke up, in the bed of The Great Wunna before me (My mother dearest, who i love love love) with the birds a chirping, back yard bunnies a bouncing, and an odd Buddhist chanting CD, jammed in a stereo, that kept doing a groaney broken record screech of monk madness, in one second blips of insanity. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love a good old blessing. However, I don’t count them, as i’m sure i’d be far too upset. (‘Oh look, you have 42 and i have…. half of one.’) My Mothers a doctor therefore enjoys early mornings to tend to healing the nation. I enjoy late nights, where i to, fiddle with parts of peoples anatomy, which some may consider….. healing. :) (The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.) Anyway, whenever i get back to Yorkshire, the first night back, i always sleep in her bed, which strangely yet currently has balloons that read ‘Congratulations‘ attached to it. (‘Yay! YOU MADE IT TO BED!!!! WOOHOO! Let’s place you in a confetti shower, put you to sleep and hope you don’t wake up!!’)
For some reason, My Mother feels bad for me….(hahah) therefore when she wakes and at some ungodly hour…(a time where in which i would be trailing in from an after party, with diamonds, furs, no dignity and a bag full of broken hearts.) If i’ve pulled, (and i usually can, i’m just going through an awfully picky stage, where no-one is impressing me ) then i’ll be armed with a ‘Handsome.’ If not and i’ve decided to fly dreamland ‘solo’…then the ‘Handsome’ is replaced with a Kebab. I mean, there’s no real difference between the two. I just enjoy eating one, more than the other. God, some dude called ‘Erol’ has text me thanking me for being so lovely to him the other night at Vendome, which is GREAT…if you know an ‘Erol.’ Ugh! I need a slappage.
Anyhow, back to my Mother placing me on the rocky path of total enlightenment. Mum wakes, gets ready to leave for work, sees her first born, sort of smeared all over a bed sheet, then whilst i’m sleeping, quietly places a Burmese blessing CD on, (which is Buddhist monks chanting for my peace) in order to mend me and get me back to normal. Hahaha…i love it. Just so you know. I am actually Buddhist. I’m just not a very good one. *Puts bra back on* I don’t mind waking up to chanting monks…when the tape isn’t busted. (Who am i kidding, i DO mind! Fucking annoying innit!! ) However, it is better than waking up to…herpes. Makes a change. I’m grateful! It’s kinda fun waking up and not having to sausage role a six pack out ya bed. There’s only room for one hottie! I’ll call you…*smiles*
Today, i’m resting, (ooh what a surprise) tanning, grooming and feeling rather excited about life. I’m surrounded by kittens. I have 8 tiny bundles of ‘purr,’ and i ADORE THEM. I feel bad because i’ve named them quite poorly. (Apart from one i named ‘Gucci’ and the other i named ‘Bruce Lee.‘) Yet, i feel good, because they’re slaggy. I’m a great mother. I remember getting a text, from my own Mother reading: ‘Chrissie!! I’m FED UP! Your kitten is trying to have sex with her own goddamn son!!!’ Woohoo! Good girl!! Treats? If you’re a Wunna, you are rewarded for exercising you’re ‘flirty’ or ‘sex under force’ abilities. My kittens even try and nuzzle their faces in my vagina, at every given opportunity. They find solace in it. I actually thought it was completely adorable, because I believed, that, they believed, it was cosy. However, my guy friend assures me it’s simply down to the fact that my ‘hoo-haa’ pongs of haddock.
But anyway, i need to tend to my email box. I have a work one and a ‘pleasure’ one, and they are JAM PACKED full. I hate the process of emptying out an inbox. I mean, i’d make someone do it for me, if i didn’t think i’d miss a shirtless picture or two. I’m gonna get organized and begin to file things under ‘stardom much.’ I’m on my way up and i have no idea why? But just let me say…i couldn’t of done it without you. (Or me…really? Hahah. I can’t let you take all the credit. I’m an Attention whore. A limelight stealing floozey. I give you the credit and then TAKE IT from you. It’s the whole being raised in Hollywood thing. Take. Take. Grab. Take.) I’m so exhausted. I need rest. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, finding other ends under magic carpets and burning them too. I have a week of shoots. Beauty sleep NEEDED.
I didn’t apologize to ‘Lashes.’ I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m not one for having to apologize for my existance. I enjoy every minute of being Chrissie Wunna. I just wish he enjoyed being ‘Lashes,’ a bit more. He thinks i think, i’m better than him & is trying to make me apologize (even though we are NOT togther anymore) for thinking that…even though i don’t?? He’s now trying to tell me what i think. I’m not even drunk and it’s still confusing me?? But anyway, i’m not bothered. I have bought new heels and jollied on with another and i’m really happy. My British Exes are the worst Exes i’ve ever had. I’ve loved them all whole heartedly at one point, yet they just never ever believe i do. And well my pretties…that’s on them and not on ME. It’s their issue. My LA Exes to this day i still talk and share ‘good times’ with. Lighten up boys of Britainia.
Anyway, I am actually lying a bit because i did drink a half a bottle of wine, whilst BBMing a Javelin thrower (random) and well i thought to myself, maybe i should call and apologize? (I’m not a grudge holder AT ALL. I’m one to wish everyone the best…life is far too ‘OMG it could stop soon,’ innit.) Like even though i ramble on about them, like they are awfullness, i do care for them, as these are the boys who ’adventured’ me through a particular Chapter of my life. And that’s something so precious to me…you can never take history away from anyone. (Unfortunately.)
I called …(champion drunk dialer) and well he didn’t pick up (Due to Pride.) I took that as a sign that i really wasn’t meant to utter those dear words of sheer ‘regret.’ I’m not ‘sorry.’ And i almost got bullied into a ‘sorry.’ Thank you Gods for saving me!!! I mean if i’d switched his shampoo for ‘Nair’ and wee’d all over his cat…then i’d be sorry. I’m not ‘sorry’ for simply ‘being.’ LOL (Hair toss) I feel all women should be talked to with the highest respect. If anything, he owes ME and apology. I mean most boys that i refrain from talking to, have disrespected me in a MAJOR way and have not apologized for it. I do not stand for it.