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Woke up this morning, after a dream containing Marvin from JLS, Paris Hilton and Corona. Three of my favourite things! I mean they all make me go ‘oooh.’ Yet, unfortunately it was kinky. (Thanx Dream land for completely sucking. Well kinda not really, as that would’ve made my night.) I can’t remember what i was doing, but Paris was overly happy, and more relaxed than usual. Y’know, herself instead of her ‘work’ self and Marvin was sharing a Corona with me. (Good boy.) In dream land, he really fancies me. But in real life he’s…what’s the term?Oh yeah..NOT ARSED.
Then my Black berry of pinkage, calypso’d me up. I jumped, i pekked under my eyemask…which is black and has the word ‘SEXY’ encrusted on it in Rhinstones. ( I enjoy that i gave the word ‘Rhinstones’ a capitol ‘R.’ I capitalized things of life importance.)Then I listened to an early morning (it was 11.01am) voicemail from a telly producer, who was Irish and asking if i would like to indulge my pretty self, in a bit of ‘Take Me Out…USA.’ (‘Take me out’ are always wanting me on their show. I’m like the ideal candidate, cheeky, flirty, with a roving eye for the gentleman. Oh and the ability to embarrass myself, for a bit of their attention. I’ve done it all my life. I’m a pro. Plonk me in a naked man candy shop and there’s going to be a few broken hearts, a lot of spunk and a sign that says ‘NEXT!’
It films in Amsterdam, all expenses paid and i will also be paid for my time on the show. If i want to be a part of my favourite show ever…apart from obviously the one that everyone remembers me from…,(No not porn, you knob heads.) I have been instructed to call back and simply say ‘yes.’ I love these morning wake up calls, that set me a mission. I feel like some kind of pussycat assasin. (‘If you take this job, you will be paid in abundance.But first you must…’) My life is amazing and straight from the moment i open my eyes and roll (because i’m now with child and look like a doughnut) out of my bed.
Obviously i’m not single and in my fourth month of carrying my Carribasian baby. (I’m asian…obviously. Loverboy is mixed raced. Half white, half Carribean.) We are having a ‘Carribasian’ baby.’ It should be an option on a ‘what are you- tick box’ chart. He actually came up with thatphrase last night, after sweets, in a BSM car, after midnight, during my drive home.
I was actually ‘Single’ for about 7 minutes yesterday afternoon. We fought, fought, and cried. Well i fought. But i will tell you about that in my next blog. Tears were a flooding and by both parts of the union. It’s always awful when boys cry. Especially Loverboy, because he’s a boy to really keep his emotions under wraps. He’s calm and pretty much got everything under control. I’m like some messy charming, winking, giggle of a human. All emotion, no substance. All heart, fight and cocktails. I clumsy along, dropping pieces of life by the wayside and simply because i had no more hands to carry it. Then i make men carry it, who are barefooted and shirtless. (Erm..talking about naked men. watched Alexnadra Burkes’ performance on the Alan Carr show. HOLY SHIT! I was sat in a little room, with his sister Sharon a watching…and we salivated at the mouth, wide eyed and wistful. It was perfomance my gays would’ve loved and well if Miss. Burke tries to steal any of my gays, i will beat her with bats. That.Is.All. Or even worse. I will make her have that fringe she has in that ‘Sure’ commerical.:) )
Anyway without going into Loverboy’s and I’s fight yesterday..because no we’ve made up and are back in fairytale mode. Let me tell you that it’s really importance,t o not let insecurity get the better of you. (And i am saying that to myself.) I’m a super affectionate girl that’s had a lovely bunch of loser handsome’s treat me with heartbreaking disregard and he’s a boy that just wants to be loved. We had a GIANT barney last yesterday afternoon,w hich consisted of me thinking i had found out all this lovely bad knowledge abotu him. (When somethings too good to be true , I guess must try and find the flaws in it, in order to make it make sense?) I foguth. he batlled his case. Antoerh girls name was mentioned that is no TABOO within our reltionship. I’m egostiscal and no other girl will ever be mentioned, especially with the word ‘love’ attached to it…if i am with the boy in question. I thought something was going on emotionally, that apparently wasn’t. There was shouting, distrust, jealously, and our histories battling. It was disgusting.
It ended with me breaking it all off. (In true Wunna,when it’s broken run away…stylio.) More hurt, pain and petty proving points occured. Then after about 2 long headachey hours, we found ourselves, on the end of the phone line, in different worlds, saying not a single word but HYSTERICALLY crying and i mean BOTH of us. I have never heard him cry like that before and I was in floods of tears! If i’m being honest, i thought for a moment that he was using Me to get back at his ex-girlfriend. That’s what we fought about. But i was wrong.
How did it get that far? Why let something so pointless get in the way fo something so magical? It was at that point, when he was telling me how much he loved me, and that i was his ‘One’ andhe couldn’t bare to lose me. ( I like how i got that bit in!) That, i stopped, looked in the mirror, breathed, wiped my tears, heard his tears. At this point he was silently crying so hard, that i could hear him an realized i’m not that person. It was all my fault. I’m noo someone who brings heartache to people i love for no reason. I love hard and everyone, my friend, my family, my fans, my [think of something beginning with 'F' here?]
We were like 5 year olds, and i just realized how much we loved each other. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with this boy, because i will nevev find another like him. Sometimes people are just all good and although it’s hard ot believe, it is not very lovely to try and find the bad in them…just because you can’t believe your luck.
We met that evening and as he pulled up he never looked so gorgeous. I fell in le with him all over again. (Omg, i’m actually welling up now, simply because i made him cry. It just feels awful.) Luckily, we have a bond. A bond that is unbreakable. He told me this was the best relationship he had ever been in and the truely the best time he has ever had in his life. We’re having a baby…and no matter what silyl little ‘hoo-haa’ we pokery at…that always makes us look at one another and smile. We starting our legacy. I have a wonderful man and i’ll NEVER let it get like that again and for no reason and for no reason ebcause we are perfect.
That argukent mirrors my life. I grew up with a wonderful life, a great upbringing and i deliberately soldiered away in order to find a raw lie, one that i would never get to experience. I challenged my own existance, only to return back after years of jiggery pokery, laughter and tears, with a smile on my face knowing that what i had to being with was perfect. The grass is not always greener.
We had a perfect night, and made up over Strawberry Corneto McFlurries, baby scan pictures and drumstick lollies. I’m in LOVE and i guess it’s about time i really start introducing you to my hero, because he feels like i’m embarrassed of him or hiding him away. There will be pictures, love, names and introductions a coming. But be gentle with him…as he’s a handsome that needs to be tendered with kitten gloves.
I fucking love you all. Forever! THANKYOU once again..for ALL the love!
‘I swear on my life. If you human beat box your love to me ONE MORE time, it’s over…!’ Said the little Glamour Puss, to a rather famous producer of hip hop one night on a lonely LA street, after he tried to kiss her by a wheely bin, sauced up on vodka redbulls. I’m never impressed by the human beat box. It doesn’t amaze me? So what? You can spritz bitty sounds out of your mouth, that comes out as spit. That’s not love, that’s a reach for my ‘anti-bacterial hand lotion.’ Disgusting! I had spikey spurts of red bull on my face. But that was 2006. So much has happened since then. (Shit, this pregnancy is making me lose my memory. I can tell whether it’s my age, my upcoming baby, or the fact that i’m tee-total? All of them terrify me.)
Anyway, i have a big work day today and i’m armed with a cuppa tea, perfectly served to me in a leopard print cup. I enjoy leopard print, it makes me feel safe. I even woke up with ideas bustling around my head and that’s great for me. I mean it’s been a long time. I do usually wake up around some sort of ‘head,’ but it’s always complaining and trying to dribble out it’s nonsense all over my sheets. (If sheets means vagina.)
Now that everythings gone up a gear…i am swept over with excitement, ooh laa and that glint of creativity that turns ‘normals’ into ‘stars.’
I’ve just had an early morning phone meeting with another country, about my work and my world and i’m finding it weirdly difficult simply because that particular country, that is my origin has turned me into some kind of flawless idol of perfection. Which is the exact opposite of what i am! But me, being a complete egotistical twat that i am…well…i just went with it, put on my crown and agreed. I mean ffs Wunna! I lied so much, that i could’ve actually burst! It was Greatness! (‘Do you actually have a real life Sumo Wrestler as your body guard?/ Yes. yes, i actually do! He’s really sweet!’) WTF?? I know, that question in the Uk or the USA would obviously be seen as humourous etc etc..But the country that interviewed me were dead serious! It was really hard being ridiculously sarcastic, thinking you’re really funny and then having no-one laugh because they didn’t get your joke. But whatever, i love the attention. It’s like a fun game that in years to come will end in a nervous breakdown. Yipppee!
I’m not a perfect person, but i am a work in progress. That’s the beauty of me having this blog. It’s the story of my life, as i go along. I’m learning along the way. So the things that i might think now, i probably won’t agree with in 4 years time? I mean i’ve developed so much since January, let alone January 2002.
I come with ‘L’ plates and everything and that’s really nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes you can try to be so perfect that you lose your actual authenticity…your rawness. When i say raw, i don’t mean you have to have some tragically horrific tale to tell that makes you real..y’know organic. I just mean being able to celebrate who you really are openly and without a mask of fear! It took me ages to master such a craft. but i did and well I kinda had to do it tinsel town! Where you are pretty much fed to the wolves and they sure as hell like the meat of an innocent. I went there an innocent girl from Yorkshire and within 2 years, i had morphed into this glamour pusiing, wide eyed, boobied, pouting kitty cat! It was kinda of like survival. I started to learn the Hollywood way and learn their ways FAST, because it is a town that is unaccepting of anything but it’s own kind. I used the town to my advantage and a few months later, followed by a strong few years…i finally became ‘Chrissie Wunna’ (lucky me…) and everyone knew my name. They could hear my heels a strutting a mile off! The blog became a hit! My drink of choice at that time was a malibu pineapple. That’s all i need to remember.
The divorce brought this on (always blame the divorce) and not because i was so distressed on the inside of my pretty soul. The distress caused me to be a slag, not a success. But because Michael never let me experience Hollywood the way i always wanted to. Infact, right now, i probably know it better than him! I was very much ‘kept.’ Almost babied. It was all about him and HIS career. My job was to cheerlead HIM on and pretty much sacrifice my opportunity. He loved me, he was good to me…but if i ever wore a short skirt ….he’d go balistic. I think possesive is the term? I got bored. I felt unloved. I changed my life around and lived it the way i actually wanted to. If i didn’t do that, i would’nt feel as successful as i do today..and i mean successful as a human being. (And kinda as a blogging, pouting, Glamour puss. )
I try not to play a character, but it’s hard! I mean, in order to retain your sanity, you need to have something that is your own. Something that separates you from your work. When you become your work…it pretty much takes a genius to muddle the ‘line’ of real and exaggerated! Yes, i milk the Glamour puss thing. But i am actually like that, more like that, than i am normal. (Lol.) I find it harder to just be a chica from Yorkshire, with a scrunchie in my hair, than i do a glamour puss. You can ask anyone i’ve dated, that has hung out with me away from the ‘yada yada.’ I stay glam, i love glam, and yes bitches…i am a puss! I just milk it because it’s playful and fun, a version of me…and well it’s the brand, i’ve chosen to go with. It represents what i stand for. I’m about showmanship, entertainment, a cheeky candid honesty and excitement. I’m about making you all realize how important YOU are and how important the gift of life is. I want you to make the most of it. It sounds cheesey, when i say it like that! But you get what i’m trying to ramble on about…You always do..(coz you’re drunks.)
I’m getting a *Flashback* of going into a steam room at Crunch Gym on Sunset in LA…where i used to work. I sauntered into the white walled room of steamy dark, towel wrapped and perky. I sat down, and slowly opened my towel, in order to get the whole steamy ooh laa. Then like a haunting whisper and coming from my left, i heard a deep voice of a female..who ended up being a 40 something, Thai business woman, who said, ‘You’re skin is like chocolate. I want to eat you.’ Great moment. I’ve never left a steam room faster.
Okay, it’s actually really diifcult trying to come up with a book cover choice. My lit. Agents Helen and Karen are on the job, and well i try to be as helpful as possible, so i’m also gonna try and shoot a few ideas that i have. I want big, over the top, glamourous, and delicious…but in a single statementof ‘UMPH.’ I want it not too busy, but bold. All i have is the cover of the book space to fill, so it needs to be good. It needs to be me. I have all these ideas but i don’t know who to shoot t with. I must do it immediately though and i am going to go with a northern photographer. I have to really, due to my condition. The less luging around the country i do, the better right now. I’ll have so many wardrobe options that i’ll need staff to carry it all for me. I love being a Glamour puss. The stresses of life are simply photshoots. I’ve got to get it all sorted pronto. if i use them i do, if i don’t i dont. But i just like having options! Don’t we all.
Other than that my pretties, i’ve had to ‘Take me out’ that i can’t do this seasons show. I guess they wanted me to be one of the girls on it, with me known for being a bit of a man eater. Anyhow, i explained to Louis that i’m no longer single and i actualyl have a ‘bunting’ in my belly. With a big giggle…he congratulated and asked me to find chicks that might want to do it.
I then got an email from the Channel 5 people…who thought my chitter chatter on ‘Sex Lessons’ was rather brilliant. (I thankyou very much.) They’ve booked me in for Tuesday the 17th, after pushing their shoot dates from the 13th. I have my baby scan on that day, so i wouldn’t have been able to make it…even if i tried.
I’ve also just done my short paragraph abotu myself for a radio station. It ended up being a whole page, because when i’m told to write a paragraph, i always write more. If i was told to write a page, i’m write a paragrapgh. I’m good like that. But i must say for the first time i found it hard to write a bit about myself, because i can’t seem to sum my life up briefly. I also think everyone knows i have a blog, so they should read it in order to find out everything about me. Saves me the trouble then.
When the books out, i’ll be doing a wee bit of radio for promotion, to make you buy it. So they need a bit of info on me, in order to get their research and questions ready. I’m good at interviews. But bad at the prepping before them. I sent my ‘About me’ page to my agent via email under the subject line ‘My radio thing.’ I’m ever the professional. but that’s what they love about me. I’n the salt of the earth! Woohoo!
I really can’t wait for it all to happen now. There’s a meeting today, which will throw us an exact publishing date. It might have to be on pre-order first and online. Then in the new year, (and after i’ve popped out my ‘darling’) i’ll be fit and able to tour with it and do a bunch of glamour pussy signings. It’s really exciting, I must MUST organize my shoot!
It’s all good here in Wunna Land. Things are a hotting up.
Sorry, i’m laughing at myself because i misread an article. I thought it said ‘Sex can make you get glitter.’ Which ofcourse would get me all kinds of excited. I’m like a child. Even Pete’s started buying me sweets in order to try and get me in the mood. (‘Ooh baby, i got you a drumstick lolly. Now do you want to see my lolly?’) I’d like to have sex in a random glitter shower, or to have some FairyGod Mother belss me with tiny bags of glitteratti, every time i ‘put out.’ Yeah i think i’d really like that. bit messy mind. But no, the article it actually read, ‘Sex can make you get FITTER.’ Ugh. When sex is seen as exercise, or just something to help you abs. You’ve reached rock bottom.) *Heaves you out of her bed sheets.*
I’m actaully looking at the this months edition of Vogue. Kate Moss looks DIVINE on the cover! I’m studying it whilst shoving spoonfuls of ‘chunky monkey’ into my mouth. My Mum bought be a tiny tub, because she says i ‘like monkies.’ I also have a fricking cat hair in my eyeball which is making me physically sick!
I’m telling ya, these kittens are driving me insane. They’ve become so needy and annoying. They are the cutest little things, don’t get me wrong …but jeeze whizz, (polite way of saying ‘fucking hell’) they take a lot of effort. They are bitches. They are running my ENTIRE life. I mean, i now feel guilty if i haven’t fake blusher brushed each and every one of them each and every morning, cuddled them and talked to them about their life, one at a time and to their favourite song. It’s like getting ready 7 times over. It’s exhausting. Like there’s only so many times, i can be nice in one morning.
This is why i need midget butlers, or Oompha Lumpas to look after them for me. (Oh the logic.) I also still need a sumo wrestler to stand at my bedroom door each night, to frighten away the perverts. I’ve figured the only way to frighten away perverts is by scaring them with other perverts. So my Sumo (who i will name ‘Rosie’ or Lily’) will have to be extremely perverted himself. I mean who needs guns, when you have uncontrolable slimey hands, that fit down trouser legs and peeky holes? It will be the most terrifying event known to mankind that it will then become a fetish and be sold on DVD for millions.
Now i’ve invented Sumo porn, i think i’ll make myself a cuppa tea. Perfect life much!
I’m getting messages in a plenty and well i just can’t help but adore my friends. One is Facebooking me asking me for a blog link. He’s all excited and wants to treasure it for ever. (‘Chrissie have you got that link to the blog that i’m in?’ /‘Yeah, Pearce, what did i exactly call you, so i can search it?’/ ‘ A sex pest! Oh and you said my friend Danny had bad breath.’) LOL. Oh my god! I’m terrible.
Then i recieved a text from @garyponty who informed that he got so pissed on Saturday night that he slept under a caravan with a Lady gaga impersonator. He then went on hoilday and left early, after getting in a *huff* with his sister. He’s just passed his driving test and out of sheer stubbornes managed to drive ALL THE WAY home, with his mum in the back screaming because he’d never been on a motorway! He’s now about to ‘come out’ to parts of his family. Hahahaha. I love it. These are the types of people i surround myself with. Says it all really.
Anyway, here’s a bit of Kate Moss. Legs at ten to two much! [Do Vogue arms here.]
Woke up at exactly 5.53am this morning. My eyes just opened and believe it or not they were crying! Yes, this is making me sound tremedously mentally ill. Yet assure you, being a Glamour Puss and having boobies cancels out the madness that i have deliciously sweeping around my soul. In dream land, i had been dreaming that i was married to Spencer Pratt. He was yelling at me because my voice was too loud when i was using the phone. It made me cry. it made me cry so much, that my ‘dream land’ tears stretched over to the real world. Crazy how that can happen isn’t it? At least i didn’t wee myself. It’s my midgets day off, so i’d have no-one to wipe me clean.
Waking up at 5.53am sucks…especially when you have a dollop of morning sickness. I have a pussy cat in my belly, that’s already causing me to feel hungover and pukey..before it’s even BORN!! I’m deeply alarmed by all this pokery and wondering why i’m craving Mr.Kiplings mini sized fairy cakes? I’m taking it as a sign. God wants me to be an alcoholic, diamond encrusted, Hair tossing mother of fabulousity. I’m not sure how that logic works? But if i have a boy..it better enjoy wearing stockings. Only joking. I wouldn’t introduce him to stockings until it’s at least 4…and i’m naming the child something ‘unisex,’ that coincides with my favourite liquor. Whilst your kids will be playing with the Early learning centres, newest educational toys. Mine will be trying on furs, strutting, dancing in glitter showers, and pretending it’s Ribena is a vodka/cranberry. Knowing me, i’m probably have kids, who want to save the whales, or knit cardigans. UGH. I’ll be devastated and just have more that like booze. (Oh *hush* i have a kingdom and a reputation to uphold! They need to learn he ways of the Wunna.) I haven’t quite told Pete all this yet, but i’m sure he’ll love every minute of my ‘how to bring our child up’ pitch.
Okay, so i haven’t been able to blog over the last day due to being ill, sick and running errands, that kept consisiting of buying people things at McDonalds. I’m not completely selfish. I will buy you food. It doesn’t have to be off a dollar menu. I’m actually more generous than people would believe. It’s a trait i learnt from my mother. Like most things that make your crotch itch…I’m ght gift that keeps on giving. (I’m meant to be cleaning up my image. Yet my distinct idiocracy, refuses to let me be anything other than sarcastic…and forever. If i showed you who i really was…you’d think i was the nations sweetheart. Step aside Miss. Tweedy. I just prefer to dip my playful sweetness in Tom Foolery and rum, then watch to see what happens? I’m like a living experiment and i’m celebrating every moment of being Me. I suggest you love you too! It just makes things a bit easier…!
Okay, so on Tuesday, i trained it off to Manchester to meet my new Literary agents Helen Hewitt & Karen Woods. They’re twoo northern women who possess that special *spunk* (ooh that sounds rudey, please don’t fire me)…They just have that *Umph,* that spirit, that i’ve been looking for a very long time. Like a good old cocktail…they mix well with Miss Wunna. *hair-toss.* I’m super impressed with their northern swagger and the fact that they can see me for who i truely am and just know how i want to be represented. I have go-gotters hustling for me…and they’re women. Watch your back, here we come world.
Anyway, it took them about a week, to get me a lovely old publishing deal. I met them at manchester Picaddilly station, at exactly 3pm..they found me in yellow, sat on a metal bench, combing my hair, and eating midget gems, near the station’s Starbuck. (There we had our meeting.) They knew it was me right away…and immediately…i felt comforted! There’s something about older women….that makes me feel safe. I have a great relationship with my mother. She’s the one person who has never ever let me down throughout my life, no metter what i’ve put her through…and it’s obviously been a lot! Maybe that’s why i was lulled into a cosy place of *snuggle* much, as soon as they’re energies hit mine. I’m very happy, very excited and have a book on it’s way out to you! I’ve written it all myself. It’s about my life. It represents my brand, which is all about being a ‘Glamour Puss,’ and what i love most about my book, is the fact that not only is it Volume one of my blog..(which makes it all about ME..ME…MEEEEEE!) However, also involves YOU! It’s like one of the first books, where normal people (like me,) who accidentally cross my path (like you) are actually written about, as part of my life! You are an important factor! If i have seen you, experienced, or cocktailed with you. Cried with you, laughed with you, or even pouted with you…the chances of you appearing within the pages of my book are HIGH! I’m turning normal, random people, who have inspired me on a daily, into people of importnace, who i believe should be remembered. Like anyone else, we’re all doing life…and simply here to encourage you to love every moment of it..and with the style of a good old puss! (God, my voice is awful! I have ‘Sex Lessons’ on in the background. Channel 5 have just sent me the link to the show that was aired, for me to take a look at. It had apparent excellent ratings and they’ve called me in for more. I have it playing on a seperate window, to watch my bits of chitter chatter. Obviosuly i’m writing my blog, so i can’t watch it all and i’m running behind on time. I have a whole lot of worky to get through. Therefore whenever i hear my wretched voice, i’m immediately clicking back to it, and having a bit of a gander. I look like a cougar. Next time when i go in, i’m going to doll up to represent some kind of weird asian Dolly Parton.
Bottom line, i’m super super happy. I love helen and Karen. I love the book deal. I love that you’ll all get to meet me, as i go on tour at the beginning of next year and i love that my LA friend Theo is out here next week. Wait? Maybe it’s this week? (I’m a shit friend.) I woke up to his call…all he said (after i told him how delicious he was,) was ‘Who are you having your baby with? I replied with ‘God… ofcourse! I am the second virgin to experience the immaculate conception. I am the modern day Mother Mary!’ Odd thing to begin your day with really isn’t? Declaring your Godly stature. But whatever, i do it everyday. Today, i just wanted to be religious!
We paused, laughed at each other, swore a little bit, then he asked me whether i could find him a place to stay? He had booked hotels online that took his money, then went bankrupt. Lovely! Lovely! Welcome to England! (I’m currently stuffing cake into my mouth and remembering a time when Theo met me for coffee on 3rd street in LA. We’d do it every morning, and sfter he had sent me some kind of abusive ‘wake up’ text! (‘Wake up you slut!’) I arrived first usually. Then when he did, he slumped down and said, ‘I wish i was a ten millionaire!‘ That sums up our Hollywood 2006 for you! Add picking the wrong boys to date and you have it all really! )
Talking about boys..(shit i’ve got an hour before i have to meet mine and i’m not even groome yet!) Pete and I had a massive argument on Wednesday,a si was coming home from my meeting in Manchester, i was telling hima ll about my day and he was really excited etc…etc.. Then when i finally got back to Leeds, my phone was out of juice. (I’m a previous socialite..by 3pm my phone will usually always be out of charge, due to my constant delicious yabbering. You can’t hate me for it. It’s just the hand i was dealt.
Anyway, i missed my last train home, due to there being far too many people on the train. It was rush hour and even the doors were crammed. Now, i’m not a crammer inner. I don’t care at all, how late i am. I WILL not, one BIT, ram myself into anything. I especially won’t do that, if i KNOW i am to be squashed for at least 20 minutes, amongst people who are far too close to my face. All the door areas were packed AND the sweaty isles. I attemtped to run to find an empty space of air, yet in the end i gave up and let the doors close without me!
Everyone thought i didn’t want to *cram* because i was pregnant. I actually didn’t want to cram, because everyone looked sweaty and angry. Lmao. It was the train of sheer negativity. They all thought it was going to Knottingley. I KNEW it was going through hell to get there…and i’m not quite ready to serve my time.. just yet! The Devils promised me at least 40 more years!
Anyway, i call Pete to tell him that i had missed the train, as he’s doing the picking up of the Puss. I’m in teh depserate stage, where my phone is completely out of charge, there are no power points, and i need to relay a message, You’ve all been there! I had been turning my phone ‘on & off’ and pulling the battery out..for no real reason. I
get on the phone to good old Loverboy and warn him of my ‘out of charge’ situation. (I call it ‘juice.‘) Instead of being all organized, manly and talking to me properly, in the little time, we have, before he gets cut off. He decides to ramble on about nonsense, that i would pretty much file under ‘can wait.’ THEN (and get this) whilst i’m re-telling him about how i’m going to probably run out of charge, all in a panic at leeds train station, now quite sweaty myself And (let me milk this) PREGNANT! Pete…gleefully PASSES the phone ( an art form i do sometimes depsise during important moments..i once DUMPED a boy for doing that to me in LA.) He passed the phone to a friend, who just wanted to banter with me…a guy friend called ‘Jay’ and get this….he wasn’t even drunk!! Phone passing is only acceptable when you’re pissed up! My phone cut off…and at that point Loverboy was in BIG Wunna TROUBLE!!
Deliberately, i took an alternate route home, so that he would not beable to find me, if he retraced our convo. Then when i finally managed to ‘charge’ up…I had missed 5 calls from him. I yelled at him,t old him i was ‘sick of him’ and that i thought he was ‘childish’ and ‘self centred.’
He then wanted me to meet up with his other friends for food. I was in the exact same place as them and strutted past without them knowing and jumped into the nearest taxi home. I was in a proper barney and i didn’t care that he was apologetic. You don’t let Wunna down when she’s hormonal! It’s not worth it. It just made me feel as though he was more ocncerned about parading me around his friends (his needs,) rather then sorting out an important problem, (which was me getting home,) when he only had a moment to do it in. He wasted his moment. How foolish, i just thought it was thick.
I actually refused to see him all night and i haven’t seen him all week, so far, due to work commitments. I enjoyed every moment of being at home, telling my mum all about my book deal and chilling with my family. He claimed his heart ached when i was mad at him…He tried to call me and call me. I ignored him because for the first time ever, i felt like i just didn’t want to talk to him. I’d had a GREAT day and i wasn’t about to dwell of boy drama.
After, a while and because he called so much, i decided to talk to him. We’ve made up, but he’s noticed that i’m being a it ‘off.’ He’s kind of hurt my feelings. I mean, will he be there, when it really truely matters? I don’t enjoy men who opt for ‘stupid’ instead of the right option. Hmm..?
Sent to me this morning via Twitter, by a delicious gent named ‘Tom.’ I am honoured that he chose ME, to grace his laptop screen, this fine morning and in the comfort of his own home. This little Kitty fantastico is EVERYWHERE!!
Oh and this is the Channel 5 ‘Sex Lessons’ show i’m on…
Happy late evening. I’m sorry i haven’t blogged all day, but i woke up this morning on a grey/blue reclining chair, in a room that is referred to as a ‘grandmother’s living room.’ I had a maroon blanket over my pretty little self, and was sleeping next to a cabinet filled to the brim with ‘saving for a marvellous occasion’ wine glasses. I could see the refelction of the room through the cabinet glass. It was like the wine glasses were showing me my life!
I looked to my right, at approximately 9.58am and mid-squint, i realized that ‘Loverboy’ (my handsome hero) was on a grey/blue recliner next to me, with a blue blanket upon him. We had fallen asleep watching telly the evening before. He usually wakes me up at some hour of sin, in order to drive me home. However, last night, he watched me sleep, wanted me near him and therefore kept me all for himself. It’s kinda the same theory as being held hostage, yet hotter, because you pretty much get everything you want…and with kisses. I even asked him to show me his bum and with a, ‘But mine’s not as good as yours,’ he gave me a 2 second peek. I LOVE my life!
Not only was i being held hostage..(and boy i was the hottest hostage in town) but i also got breakfast in bed! Well that’s if you pretend the recliner was ‘bed,’ and technically, last night, it was! This is why i LOVE being a curvy kitty of ‘ooh.’ Boys want to feed you, love you and take care of you. I also actually had a wonderful nights sleep. I felt stress free, safe and 100% loved. I don’t know whether i deserve this, but i’m going with it anyway. Well done me!
Loverboy and I had had a GREAT day. One of those lovely, flirty ones, where you giggle and make fun of each other, through *winks* and looks of love. He always looks at me, like i’m the best thing to ever happen to him. It makes me feel special and almost as if, i’ve found someone who’s just like….me! I’ve actually found someone who’s foolish enough to do ‘forever’ with me. Woohoo! I can’t believe my luck. Ran away from the horrors of London and a horrific boy and landed myself a little true love! Hurrah! Drinks for everyone …but me! *Looks at the Ribena and sighs.*
My advice to anyone going through relationship problems, is to KNOW that at the end of it all, there IS a Prince or Princess waiting for you. I never believed there was ONE person for everyone, until I met this boy. I mean you know me, i wouldn’t cream you will bullshit. I’m a straight talker, with a cocktail, and vixen strut. I’ve been through awful times with boys, who claimed to ‘love’ me. Yet i’ve noticed that one of the good things about me, is that i never let men treat me poorly for long. I give them their moment to really show me how awful they are, then i *strut* off happily, knowing i can do so much better! I’m not one to keep going back. I regard myself as a really tolerant person. Once i’m done with you, i’m done and i will NOT have ANYONE treat me with a horrific batter of disrespect…and why? Because i not only know my worth, but i am HARDLY EVER disrespectful to others! If, i am..it’s for the random sake of humour and we all love a bit of *ha ha,* at times. Innit! I’ve made some terrible choices when it’s come to men. I don’t know whether it was because i felt lonely, or needy or whether i was just plain old inexperienced in my youth? Yet even to this day the majority of them try to contact me, in order to re-date. *Yawn.* If you messed up the first time..that’s your own fault. I’m a Wunna, we march on! (Oh and if you can’t handle it all the bad relationships before your ‘true love’ comes, my kittens…just drink. )
I thank CUPID every DAY, for blessing me with Loverboy. Thank God there was a light at the end of the tunnel, because i was beginning to think there was entirely no hope for me at all, with men! If it hasn’t already happened to you..it will. Just keep putting one jimmy choo infront of the other. Baby steps! ALL THE WAY!
You kind of sort of, HAVE to go through a bad relationship, or a bundle of bad, (as i did) in order to reach your ‘match.’ Your purrfect match that is! The heartache sort of trains you up for you’re true love. If i hadn’t had gone through all those bad pieces of ‘thought you were forever,’ I would never have learnt to appreciate such a decent boy. We are fated to be together. He’s the closest thing to me and like i keep saying we have a fairytale love. I’m even jealous of myself. If i’m being honest, i don’t just love him because he’s delicious, sweet and romantic. I love him because he refound me and re-taught me about love, life and a part of me i thought i had completely lost. I’ve learnt so much from him without him even knowing. He’s shown me a whole new way to do life…yet this time with a quality goodness, instead of a slutty smear of drunken of sin. (I’m currently snacking on Pickled onion Monster Munch! They are to DIE for!)
On a different note…Where the hell is my Mother? Like where is my family?? They’ve ventured off for almost 10 days, (and left me like little orphan Annie, but with money and not ginner,) to enjoy the world of meditation..something i can’t do, because i swear.. sitting in one place for that long, with crossed legs would kill me. You can reform a floozy, but you simply can’t put her infront of Buddha and tell her to contemplate her thoughts for 17 hours a day, in a lotus position! I only do missionary! (That’s how long they’re meditating for! 17 hours a day)
Anyway they were meant to be returning today and yeah…i’ve had no phone calls, not contact, no word from any Wunna and AT ALL? Where are they?? Maybe it really did out do them, this time? I mean, I’m starting to get angry and stressed. I need a break from playing ‘keeper of the house.’ I’ve already accidentally killed there domestic pets and plants. I need to pamper and feel like a woman again. I’ve even mopped the floor…like MOPPED for gods sake. Hear my PAIN!
I can’t do this anymore. They need to come home. They said 10 days. It’s been ten. Now return! Everytime i think about it, i want to gauge my own eyes out. I have scratch marks all over my body from being clawed to death by animals and bruises from door knobs. I have fleas investing my body, my life and i just need to get a spary tan and my nails done. This is the longest i’ve ever gone without taking care of myself. I’m a GLAMOUR PUSS! And not someone that’s meant to be put in some sort of position of responsibility. I do HAIR, not other peoples house work. I WINK & WIGGLE not walk the fricking wheely bins! I’m exhausted and i need a facial. (Not that kind boys! ) I sure as hell hope they’ve found total emlightenment. They’re gonna need it, to help protect them from my buxom wrath of ‘ooh!!’
[OKAY, i need to chill pill it before i start to super dolly explode! Now..breathe.....:) Lets fly a subject change!]
Anyway yeah, on a much nicer note…because i’m wanting to forget i’m angry. Did i tell you that this morning i got breakfast in bed, mid being a hostage and being hidden in a room? Yeah! I was gifted with toast, bacon, a poached egg, and tomatoes. Best hostage situation ever! Then i got kissed, after a cuppa tea, a bit of a bum, show, and a Ribena (because i was craving one.) Life couldn’t be better! I had slept in my makeup and let me tell you, not a single horrific smear was on my face when i rose. I had my full glamour pussy face on, with not even an eyelash out of place. (That’s a lie, i did have to re-glue my right one. But i’m ageing…my eyelids, got tired of carrying them.)
I’ve having a wonderful time, a wonderful life, and being told by doctors that i might have alpha thalessemia. I had to take Loverboy to Pontefract hospital yesterday for a blood test. He’s not so keen on the art of blood extraction. Not only was he the cutest little thing you had even seen. (I felt like i was his mum. I had to buy him sweets for after.) Yet for the first time he was all vunerable and child like. I loved every moment of it. We both play up to a child like role with each other. I mean you should hear how we talk to each other. It’s like we’re 5 1/2 years old…but happy. We’re having a *thing-a-ling* gifted into our lives, so our blood tests are currently super dooper important. Apparently only ethnics can get alpha thalassemia. Trust me to end up *Might* having some kind of racist blood disorder. Niice! That’ll help me pull all the handsomes! (‘Hold me, i’m horny…don’t let the infection worry you.’) Lmao. For the first time, my first thought when i was informed with the fact that i might have this thalessemia deliciousness, i didn’t think ‘Woohoo, another way for me to get attention.’ I actually thought about my little glamour puss to be. I’m actually going to be a really decent loin to be birthed from. I’m shocked! I need gin to celebrate! (I might have to lick a picture of a cocktail instead. Is that wrong?) Wazza’s gone to Amsterdam! Hellooo stag do!
I am in BIG SHIT! So yesterday, i had zero internet connection, because the Gods of Cyberland, who are usually quite welcoming, cut me out of their ‘decent wireless connection’ life. Something happened, and i needed to blog. Ofcourse, and because i’m Chrissie Wunna, i strutted to the upstairs study, which has now been turned into a temple, to *panic* myself onto the computer and release my mind, body and spirit of the *drama* that was burdening me, ever so muchly.
I get to my computer…it fools me into believing the worlds a safer place and then gives me a dirty *middle finger* and refuses to let me vent on the world wide web! Heellllooo? I’m an attention whorey, blogging genius! I NEED my blog, in times of *panic.* I have a druggie like addiction to it. You had never seen me so wild…apart from that one time I told Harriet that i had an argument with a washing basket and stabbed a sausage. Infact, due to her being the same kind of hormonal, i sent her a text last night, informing her that i would hide sausages around her life, so that she could get anrgy and stab them. Unfortunately, she isn’t in her *angry* phase and apparently cried to a tribute to Lisa Left Eye Lopez, a couple evenings ago. Haha.)
Anyway, when i couldn’t get my own, ‘working internet’ way. And it’s all about me getting my own way. When i don’t get dealt a good hand and i deserve to, i’m usually devasted.
I *hair-tossed.* I *breathed* it out. (Breathing never fucking works. You just look like a horny chimpanzee.) Then after deliciously tantruming, i began blaming others for my beautiful faults. (My ex-husband used to say my ‘faults were what made me beautiful.’ Well he didn’t say that towards the end Plus, i’m sh0cked because my best faults didn’t really mature until AFTER the divorce? I became a LEGEND!)
Anyway, bottom line and because i’m jabbering on about nonsense, in ordet to try and avoid the fact that i’m in deep trouble. I have been left in charge of my Mother’s house during her absence to a meditation retreat, in Wales. She’s taken the rest of The Wunna’s with her and left me behind, due to me being the most responsible Wunna, which apparently means i can take care of shit. (‘Mmmkay!’ Do a little black girl, head twist here.) I’ve also been left behind because i’m hormonal.
I’d been doing really well…(10 days she’s gone for, and on Friday, THIS Friday she returns) except, (and please do note, that i hadn’t been doing really well at all. It’s been the most stressful ‘a bit longer than a week’ EVER!) The place is like a circus, and i am covered in sin, scratch marks, the adoration of Loverboy and *puzzled* faces.
Annnway…my Mummy has her favourite kitten. Remember we have 8 and yeah, i know you’re not supposed to pick favoruites, but we all do, it’s how The Wunna’s work. Favourite children, favourite kittens, favourite boys, favourite drinks. It keeps everyone on their toes. *Wink-pout.*
Anyway, Mum’s favourite kitten..which she seemed to have named ‘Lucky Boo,’ (you will see the irony in this shortly,) is now dead. UGH!!! Not only am i gutted, but ofcourse, on my watch, under my supervision, Lucky, just so happens to leap over something sharp (that my Mother would always tell my brother off for leaving on the side table) and well almost in the worst, most awful cartoon fashion ever, have things fall ontop of him and now not be alive.
I thought he was asleep and yeah in a bit of an odd position? But i’m a previously drunken Glamour Puss, i’ve woken up in odder forms, in many a land. I venture down the next morning, before my romantic day with Loverboy, in Pontefract. (He was taking me to Specsavers, to buy sight, and also buying himself a 2010-2011 diary, It makes him feel organized.
Then we gobbled up KFC fillet burger meals, and saw Wunna fans who wiggled with me for giggly moments of joy, as i took my KFC out of the store. I was mildy popular yesterday, because i did everything HOT. I looked like an England Team cheerleader, tiny pleated shirt, little top, wiggly bum, big boobies, eyelashes and googly eyes. I loved every moment of it…as did random male passersby, with cocky, but confident smiles, and well ofcourse my little Petey…who is pretty much now, my EVERYTHING. I’d die for this boy. God, knows how he’s done it, but i’m in love and i’ve never felt so safe. When i’m with him, i’m in this little bubble of ‘ooh.’ Different people bring out, a different side to you and he seems to bring out a dolly softness in me. It’s like we’re kids in love for the first time. He’s just gorgeous and loves me a great deal more deeply now. I can tell because he’s started getting possessive.
There was a big muscley, yellow tight topped old man, trying his luck with the curly haired ‘Glamour Puss,’ outside W H Smiths yesterday. He was old and a bit rotten, but confidentally smiled at me with a sense of ‘You want this, don’t you!’ I didn’t really repsond because i’m not disrespectful to Loverboy. I mean i’d HATE HATE it, if he did that to me. But i did noticed that I had never been so calmly *PUSHED* into a shop more quickly, then I had at that moment. I liked it. Loverboy loves what’s his and doesn’t like others tampering with his ‘Forever after.‘ It’s sexy!
He then spent the whole time cuddling me openly, so ‘yellow muscle guy’ could see that we were ‘in love’ and that he had ‘won,’ the WH Smiths battle of Heroes. (Technically, i won. I was loved all around. 10 points to me. Yipeee.) Loverboy. continued to slag him off in the car. Lol. Pete’s usually quite placid, so seeing him mildy heated, is delicious. I could’ve kissed him forever, but our fillet burgers were far too distracting and we needed to rush to get back home, so his Father could take his grandmother for a new hearing aid. She told me that whenever she talks, it’s almost like her voice is on volume 10, even when she’s whispering. I have a voice like that naturally, and maybe deliberately. When i lose my hearing, i’m (what’s the word?) Oh yeah…fucked!
I’ve rambled haven’t I? What i wanted to say….Lucky Boo, my youngest kitten is no more. Playing got the better of him and well…we’re like trees, with thick roots. We choose how we want to grow. He went for the leap of faith, kinda like I would’ve done and is now resting peacefully in the heavens. I have 7 more to keep safe before Friday evening. I’m in BIG shit! I only like trouble that i canhide of balme others for. This sucks. Everythime she goes to that meditation retreat, something or someone dies! Last time, it was nearly my dad. ‘Oh hi mum, yeah. Dads hearts stopped beating and he’s in hospital. Sorry.’
This time…it’s the kitten. She never learns. Meditation retreats in Wales = Bad news. (See how i’m attempting to push the blame onto my own absent Mother.)
I’ve been poorly all day and if there’s anything I despise more than waiting, bad attitudes, haters, and tan lines…it’s being ill. Omg! I attempted to raise my delicious body of love lump out of my white cosy sheets, with a mild smile of ‘oh here’s another day,‘ this morning. I felt hazy, dizzy, and seemed to have gained a *thud-thud* of a headache. (Almost like i had a bunch of Santa’s elves using the inside of my head, as their toy workshop…which wouldn’t surprise me, as it really is quite marvellous, in the brain of good old Chrissie Wunna. I’d want to make toys in there! Raunchy ones. But still worth a Christmas list, bitches. )
Now, at this point, you’d think, I’d think there was something wrong, right? However, realize that I am a previous, late night, get it right, socialite….much! A kitty cat of cocktail drinking, and sequinned shimmie nights out on the razzamatazz, with heels and handsomes, and winks that could kill. Therefore waking up in this manner is a regular occurance. It’s normal for me. If i wake up happy, it’s because i’m still drunk.
However, and quite unfortunately THEN, i realized, i haven’t actually drank in 9 and a half weeks, due to my new *tee-total*-dom, due to my little *Glamour puss* that i have chilling inside me, making me all hormonal, exhausted and soon to be chubby. I wasn’t even hung over!! What have I become! I was actually frickin’ SICK! God, it trying to kill me off…and on a FRIDAY!!! How rude!
I tried to stand up, but my body ached so badly, it just couldn’t bare the thought of having to balance. my ego in an upright fashion. My head felt even more musty than usual and i began to feel a sense of nausea. I looked in the mirror (which is the first thing I do, every single morning. I’m vain..and so what?) Then after a *huff-puff* and a kitty cat *moan,* i decided to pathetically collapse back into my bed, after ordering someone to randomly make me a jacket potato, for no reason really, because I couldn’t for the life of me, eat it. I told them the sight of it, made me feel sick.
I felt like hell, and had to stay in bed until 4.25pm! I didn’t even feel better until THEN! Can you believe it! I was bed ridden and not even to mood music. This little *situation* i’m in, is really taking it out of me. Morning sickness sucks, because it’s the only sickness you will ever have, that will make you feel deliciously hungover, when you haven’t even had the sheer JOY of being able to get trollied, the night before.
I reached for my phone to call ‘Loverboy’ (we all need a bit of sympathy now and again. The phone call could of gone either way. ‘Nice Chrissie,’ would be all baby-like and pouty. Or ‘Evil Chrissie’ could have done the ‘YOU did this to me,’ speech on him. ) Luckily, my delicate arms, that really did need more of a tan, refused to work on *reach* mode. Therefore, being the private girl that I am, i decided to TWEET my pain to the world, via text! I told everyone i felt groggy…and well, i then fell back to sleep for 20 minutes. I HATE being ILL! When will this end?
Proving that there’s no rest for the wicked, i then get a streamed series of phonecalls and text messages from people wanting to work with me. I like these calls because they’re usually rewarding. However, when you’re sick, and comtemplating a *throw up,* simply over the smell of toast, you never really feel up to it. I heard my pink Blackberry a beeping. I heard it beckonning my attention. I heard it, i heard it a moaning…
Then when i could finally reach, i had a little read through my texts. I laid their half naked, smothered in my white cosy sheets, hugging my pretend man that i made out of one side of the quilt. I always need to do that, as i’m a Kitty cat that needs to sleep with one leg over something. Loverboy was house hunting for us. I hate house hunting, so i don’t go. It makes me feel all panicked, and pressured and terrified. He loves it, as he’s eager to make me his ‘forever.’ Well i am his ‘forever’..and if i’m truely honest, i can’t really think of a better way to sail through life. Yet house hunting, is just not my thing. Last night he looked at me, whilst kissing my hand, saying ‘How many guys do you know that can’t WAIT to actually make their girlfriend their wife?’ I replied with a ‘I know, loads of guys that would want to marry me? ‘ He looked, smiled, told me off for being cheeky, and then told me that he literally couldn’t wait for me to be his wife. Yay! Another wedding for Wunna! I’m rolling them in…always a Bride, never bridesmaid! (Well that’s what Wazza says anyhow.)
Anyway, the good news is that my literary agent ‘Helen,’ had heard GREAT things from the publishers, who had taken the last week to read through the whole of my entire blog, in CD form, that Wazza (love him to pieces) had conjured up. We were waiting to hear what they would say and even though i kind of played it down, on the inside i was terrified. All i’ve ever wanted is to have a book out, about my life, that would maybe inspire others. Now, that dream is about to come true, which makes me realize that everything really does happen or a reason. I mean, i always thought to myself, years ago, when i was in LA, why i was writing my blog? I had no real reason? I was just writing it, for anyone who wished to read it…but mainly for my own sanity. It was just a little fun, that went to far. But if i never kept it going, then i would never have gotten this new opportunity.
Four or five years later, and when i have more than enough tales of my life to tell, i’m being told, that it will be a book, and it’ll be out by November hopefully, (Hellooo Christmas time,) and if all goes well, i’mma gonna of make myself a merry sum, simply by having written out my life…candidly…which will come in handy, with a ‘diva’ on the way.
I sort of did a *happy dance,* in my darling sick state. Yet i’m still not bringing out the banners yet. I’m never premature with my moments of ‘celebration.’ Until i see it out, on the book shelves, on Amazon, and in the hands of *glamourous*others, i shan’t be wiggling my hips to victory….just yet. But know that they are ready to get their *wiggle* ON! (Infact, say ‘ON’ like you’re American and excited…’OOWN!’ It has a better ring and sounds less like you’re at a teaparty.)
Other than all that, i’m doing quite fine. *Massive life. i still feel so ill, it’s almost unbelievable.* @Eddclay bbm’ed me during my publisher talk, that i was having in bed, mid-morning sickness, to ask if my book was going to be my version of the Bible, and out at Christmas? Haha. I love it! Know that that WILL be happening, and KNOW that he has totally ’Shot-gunned’ the role of Moses. I told him that he made a saucy choice. I mean, you don’t get hotter than a naked Moses, all helpless in the bullrushes, now do you? Is that even the right story? I’m shit at the Bible. I love @EddClay right now, because he always impresses me with his jawline and love life drama.
He got stood up the other day, by some weird loser. However, Cupid must have felt for him and in return Cupid gifted him with a better choice of boy meat. I think it was some all singing, all dancing, superior handsome of hottness? I got stood up twice, by a javelin thrower once. He made me cry and cry, in a hotel room alone, as i waited and waited for ages, secretly kinda knowing that he would never show. I thought it was because he didn’t like me? But it was actually due to a combination of ‘can’t be arseness’ and ‘not enough money to‘ really come see me. I’m glad i got out of that quickly and into an another immediate rubbish relationship with a boy. Woohoo! I felt for Edd, in his moment of pain. Being stood up makes any hottie feel like crapola, for a good 2.3 minutes, without wine. I’ve noticed that it’s never the hot ones that do the standing up either. Weird?
I’ve had my times. I’ve date everyone. But now i’ve got ‘THE ONE!’ My past boys’ll be kicking themselves in years to come. I’ve never felt so happy and i’ve certainly never met a boy i can label as my ‘perfect match’ before. Loverboy, is ‘IT.’ He’s just ‘IT’ and the most lovingly, romantic man, any girl could ever wish for. It was fate. I never thought that when i saw him at 11, running down the school corridors, that he would be my future husband. It’s almost like the ‘big dude’ up above let me see my true love, and then let me live a horrific tale of heart-breaking regret, only to take me full circle and kindly drop me back off where my heart was to nest…over a decade later. If i had met him earlier, i wouldn’t have appreciated him the way i should of. It’s all about timing, fate and what’s meant to be. I’m in a really good place right now, and thank god for it! Jeeze! (I can breathe!)
The tragic thing about me, is that fact that i am currently watching my clip in hair extension, get caught in a fan (I prefer the term ‘wind machine’) and spin it’s ‘pet like’ way through life, like he has no-one to love. It’s messy and devastating, yet for some reason i’m not leaping to it’s rescue? Eww..I’m totally losing my touch. I mean you can tell i’m ill. I’m a Glamour Puss, I would usually NEVER let that happen, without somebody getting fired. *Wink-pout.* Save me!! God, i hope i get better! I am totally missing my mum!
I might call my leprechaun again, for a bedtime stooy. He’s like my spiritual therapist and he’s great when i’m about to go to bed. He’s like a chamomile tea, but with an Irish kick. I think my boobs are growing? This can’t be good?
So Saturday morning, the little Glamour Puss and her fair, fair (well mixed raced,) ‘Handsome’ of ‘lover lover,’ venture off to Manchester, from their little town of Pontefract, to plunge themselves into a process where they will be judged, questioned and auditioned in order to attempt to win a role on a tv show, where they could win a big prize. (It’s a process, i’m used to. But a process that terrifies Pete.)
Anyway, i hadn’t seen him in two days, due to work schedules and tiredness. When we met, it once again was like *magic.* It’s like i got to fall in love with him over a agin. He was so deliciously handsome, with that cheeky smile on his face, that i can never reisit, even at the best of times. I am in LOVE with this fellow and he gently flirted and played, like childhood sweethearts, all a giggle and a wink, whilst we trained it from Fitzwillam to Leeds, in order to make our Manchester train. (I was in my boobied peach, ‘I’m a Goddess, now bow’ dress. He was in his ‘I could be a half ethnic Ken doll‘ fitted mens shirt. His body is to DIE for and his heart is one of the most tender cushions of love, any girl could ever wish for. We’re on a journey of marvel. He teared up last night in the car, because he always has moments where he feels insecure, or like i’m going to leave him. I’m 100% in love. It fricking takes a whole lot and THEN some to get rid of this slanted eyed floozey. Well….unless i don’t fancy you, and you were merely a toy to fill a one night void of loneliness. However, that was my past. My future is beaming with this odd white blur of pureness.)
So we got on the train to Manchest, at around noon-ish. Pete had never been on a train journey with me before, so he was all excited..which bizarrely made me all excited to. I seem to be on a train ALL of the time. It’s sort of nice to look to your left and see a smiley face next to you, that you feel safe with. (That’s instead of one that’s just staring at you, and undressing you with their eyes!)
We ugraded ourselves to first class, simply ebcause we needed coffee for free. My card wasn’t working in their system on the train, yet Loverboy’s was. I used all my cash to upgrade us to a better train status. We loved it. Free coffee, free cake, and a quick lay down, with a lamp. I love travelling with others. It makes the my journey through life merrier. I’m a people person. I’ll throw you a party popper, a cocktail, a decent pair of shoes and beckon you MY WAY, with a *wiggle.* It looks dangerous. But it never is! It’s all just *good-clean* fun, which is just the way I like it Dolls!
We get to Manchester Piccadilly, it’s now sunny but the ground is all wet because it had just got done rraining heavily. We couldnt for the life of us find the Methodist centre (which is where the audition was being held, on Oldham street.) We strutted into a newsagents, in dying hope that he would offer us guidance. Instead he asked Pete (who is half black and half white, in skin tone and not attire) whether that was the place where all the ‘Black people go?’ He said it with such innocence that all you could do was piss yourself laughing. I started to *giggle,* which made Loverboy *giggle.* After moments of him trying to poorly aid us on our way to our audition. A less loving, however less racist guy tols us we had passed it on our walk. We had, without even knowing. We walked back, hand in hand, 20 steps. It ended with me shouting, mid-point…‘THIS IS IT HERE!!!’
Funny day. Filled with orange squash, Rich tea biscuits and vending machine coffee, whilst waiting nervously in rooms, in a Methodist centre that had been rented out by a production comapny to audition us all for Channel 4. I was really excited, and well Pete was getting more and more nervous as we went along. He was properly out of his darling *comfort zone.* But to be honest…so was I! Yet i flourish in those moments of *awkward.* It makes me all strong and sassy and i begin to think that i’m pretty much there now, so i might aswell give it my all..clumsy laughter, jazz hands and everything. 9ther ewe no jazz hands. But i was doing them in my head. I promise!)
Next to the room that we were waiting in, betweeninterviews, was a hall packed with people worshipping God, very loudly to music. There was a man on the stage, microphone screaming our ‘Hail Mary’s’ at the top of his ‘Halleujah!! GOD IS WITH YOU,‘ lungs, to the loudest of calypso music. It actually sounded like ‘Samba no.4‘ on your childhood keyboard, that you would play as a ‘demo,‘ yet pretend that you were actually producing those particular sounds yourself.
I shyly peeked through the door, whilst we were waiting to do our first interview, with a lovely ’7 weeks to go’ pregnant young lady, who was to be our first heat in the ‘hoop jump’ for success. I saw, what looke dlike gorgeously buxom African ladies, wearing Virgin Mary outfits, with Baker’s (well Chef’s) hats upon their head, dancing in circles madly, in worship. It was actuaally amazing! Pete loved it, but unfortunately got a little bit too obsessed with it all. I thought he kept going to the toilet because he was nervous, when infact he kept going to the toilet because he wanted to LEARN the dance moves.
I’m not even joking. I found him and joined him, wanting to prep him on the next stage of our auditomn and ALL he couls do was literally SHOW me the actual dance steps of methosidt worship he had learnt, that went ‘back, back, forward, forward,’ with what looked like hoola girl arms.
One of the Methodist worshippers had a robe on, and had accessorized with a Louis Vuiton man satchel. i liked him. he was my favourite. I smiled at his Vuitton,a she merrily sauntered in to the elevator. Unfortunately he thought I was staring at him and begining inappropriately *winking* at me, when Pete’s back was turned and doing faces that suggested he wanted to know me in the biblical sense.
The elevator doors closed. Pete got more coffee, whilst dancing to the, NOW DRIVING ME INSAne, music of worship. I mea there’s being enthusiaastic about God and then there’s taking it fucking too far. I just didn’t understand why they couldn’t do it quietly. I’m not a party pooper by any means. The first hour of the loudest bongos in the world, to a preacher and calypso sounds of GOD, were HILARIOUSLY GENIUS! I loved it. But three hours in, of VOLUME 10 worship…was beginning to do my head it. I think i said it out loud, as the music finally cut off by accident. I had a migrane, an empty stomach and alsorts. I needed the madness to calm the jeepers down!
The door eased open and Pete and I were called into our next round with the Senoir Producer. We actually did better than we thought we would do, on that day. We kept getting through the baby heats, by accident, by simply being ourselves. A couple of hours later, we were on our final round which was a filmed screen test. Pete excelled at it. I htought he’d be a great deal more nervous than he actually was! he aced it like a champion. I was dead proud. I mean he overcame a huge bundle of fears on that day. Loverboy, is a boy, who cares very much about what others think of him. He’s very shy. I had never seen him so confident. I smiled at him, like a proud veteran of jiggery pokery!
All in all, i think we did okay! I mean, it’s one of those things that you never know the outcome of really? So fingers crossed! Either way, we had the best time ever. Pete is was not as nervous as he made out he’d be. I noticed that he was mildy scared, but when in the room *championed* it. He was his ultimate REAL self..ann that is one of the hardest things for some ‘beings’ in this world to sometimes be.
I was every proud. At about 4.30pm. We legged it back to machester Piccadilly, to catch the next train to Leeds. Luckily, we got there with two minutes to spare. We had to leave so fast because Petey had work in an hours time. We had neve rbeen so exhausted. Auditioning takes it out of you. The nerves tire you out. I wasn’t really nervous. I was excited. I mean, in reality, you can’t really get nervous about being yourself, can you? If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, they don’t. You can only be you and hope that they see the best in you. I love every moment of it.
We arrived in Leeds, all loved up and with noodles. He went one way i tiredly strutted the other. I shuffled my way to Platfrom 13A…to get on a train back to Pontefract. I was pacing madly. I do this when i’m tired, or thinking, or just being mentally insane. I literally will stand on a platform and in a restless manner, pace agressively in circles, until you think i’m a complete and utter nutter. I couldn’t get through to my Mother who i had called almost 42 times. It sent me wacko.
I was exhausted and needed to put warmer clothes on. I just wanted to be home and comfy! I couldn’t WAIT for the train to hurry up and arrive. I stopped, I looked up at the *tells you what time it is* electronic train board.. only to hear someone shout ‘OMG!! THAT’S CHRISSIE OFF THE TELLY!!’
I looked to my left and who was it? Yep…what were the chances! It was Pontefracts answer to ‘Laurel and Hardy,’ yet not at all as funny….Drunk WAZZA & Drunk BONE, with beers, loud mouths and a *swagger* so lethal that you knew, there’d be some kind of circus behind them. (When the words ‘rape- tackle’ are used, as a tender form of affection for ginger strippers…you know it’s gonna be a long train journey home.)
This will have to be continued….. (It’s kinda making my crotch itch.)
’Bone & Wazza’
Have you spent the last hour being forced to sing a song that is titled ‘I am a money magnet?’ No, didn’t think so! Okay, i’ve got it. I’m officially insane.
Since, we last spoke, for a bit of a laugh and since I’m currently all about winning things, my dear friends and I thought it fit for me to be visited by a Money Guru. He’s kind of like a Life Coach, but one who talks about money, makes you feel good and tells you how you can win it. (I’ve decided it would be mildy humourous if i won the lottery and like I said, people do it every week. So i don’t see why I have to miss out on all the ‘i’m dirty rich’ action. It’s a party i could throw BIG style and yes, i’m not exactly hard up, but we all like to win things right? So why not choose the lotto! Woohoo! #please! Cut me some slack! A couple years a go I tried to win a friend! This is a good progression!)
So anyhow ‘Thomas’ comes over to the house. That’s his name, i think? I don’t know? I prefer it when people introduce themselves as a Mr, or Mrs, or Sir, or even with their first AND last name! It oddly makes me respect them more, because I associate them with learning and school.
Bottom line ‘Thomas’…who i turned into ‘Little Tommy’…had no chance, up against the Glamour Puss! Anyway, he was actually quite informative and taught me how to visualize and train my mind. I’m a follower of ‘The Secret’ so on occasion I do this a lot. Not a problem. Yet i have a really short concentration span, if you are losing my interest and well he made me watch a short DVD, which simply had images of stack and stacks of money, (all kinds of money) on it…and chant the words ‘I say yes.. to success.’ I kinda got bored.
Now, for Me..i’ll do anything for the sake of humour. Yet by now i’ll be finding it far too funny for it to make sense. I mean Little Tommy, was a good to do, white guy, with an over excited smile and sweaty palms, in a suit. He was showing me pictures of rolle dup £50 notes…that you would imagine a drug dealer would have in his pocket, followed by stacks of ‘looked like it had been robbed from your local bank’ man made money towers. However, there i was chanting…’ I SAY YES TO SUCCESS!’
Then like that wasn’t bad enough ‘Little Tommy’ puts on a DVD that is littered with odd animation and again images of cash, but this time *fanned* out, with neon pink kareoke lyrics on the screen bouncing out a weirdly chipper song. I thought it was cute. Infact, i thought it was really cute…until i actually had to SING-A-FUCKING-LONG!!!
God, knows what the words were, but all i know is that i sang ‘I am a money magnet‘ quite a few times in the space of a minute, whilst he clapped and sang along merrily. After and hour he was gone. He told me the images are now implanted in my brain and therefore money will now be attracted to me because it is my ‘obedient servant.’ (I like that part.) I took it all with a spiritual pinch of salt…(which is odd for me because i’m quite a spiritual girl.) Yet believe it or not, since ‘Little Tommy’ has left, i have done NOTHING but think about that song and those images of money, in my head! It worked! I’m going to win the lottery! I’m a flipping MONEY MAGNET much!!!!
Other than that, I forgot it was Friday, but so totally happy that @EddClay is going to go out for me in London in my honour. If you see him, know it’s me and please do feel free to feel his ‘Lady Parts.’ Last time he went out, I had reports from Mr.Hextall that he was simply delicious and because he actually managed to be blattered & pull a dirty rich, 35 year old gent, then puke out all of his sin, at the breakfast table at ‘Profile,’ the morning after whilst on orange juice. He is a Wunna! I’m so proud! (Due to my ‘Thing-a-ling’ i’m having to tread carefully and can’t at all *booze* up. I’m so excited to the point that i’ve never been more happy about surprises in my life! For those of you that know [Perform happy dance here.] So far, i’ve been lucky. The only thing to have gotten noticeably bigger is my chest! I love being me! Fat in all the right places! Say yes to bread rolls! I currently have a tiara on my head. It hasn’t even wanted to fall off.
Anyway, tomorrow Loverboy and I are travelling to Manchester together, for a baby sized audition that we’ve been asked to go to. It’s for Channel 4, and to be honest i won’t know too much about it until we get there. The stuff i do know, i can’t tell you because I obviously don’t want to jinx it.
Now, i’m quite good (even if I do say so myself) at the old audition process. Especially ones for ‘reality.’ I’m really good at being myself, telling people who I am, why I am and with the greatest of ease and ‘ooh laa.’ Pete, loverboy, my knight in shining armour is TERRIFIED! He’s a normal, decent good guy. Not showbizzy. Not a tragic wannabe and really comfortable in his own skin. However, the thought that he is about to get judged on the person that he is…is making him a wee bit (oh yeah) TERRIFIED. He was completely fine, when they initially called us and asked if we would be interested in taking part. (They’d be trying to get a hold of me for ages, but i didn’t recieve any of the messages.) However, now it’s TOMORROW, ‘Loverboy’ is quite terribly nervy. (Aww.) He actually told me he had a dream that i was breast feeding him last night. Maybe his subconscious sees me as a Mother figure? Who knows? In dreams, my breasts seem to feed everyone. Which i find bizarre, since they are only filled with silicone? Not even Grey Goose like I thought?
Anyway, before it gets all pervy….I’m not scared at all. If they like us, they like us. If they don’t. They don’t. All we can do is hope that they adore our little twosome and if they do…we’re IN! Yippee! I’ve never auditioned as part of a twosome before, so for me that part of the whole *shabbam* is daunting. Plus i’m not even gonna be drunk, therefore i won’t even need a human body to hold me up this time around! So yeah, tomorrow afternoon, we’re in Manchester. (I’ve just had meatballs that have made me feel sick.)
Before, i go groom and toss my hair like a champion, in a glittery light, for a fit fight for fame. I will leave you with what i believe are the BEST cupcakes and cake pops in the whole of GREAT Britain. They are A to the -MAZING and I am not only a big yummy fan of these tender treats of cakey couture. But I’m also willing to lose my waist line over these delicious cups of ‘oooh yeah Dolly face.’ *Eyes down* They’re by @Mollybakes. Sammie and I have both eaten these *yum yums.* I want them to make me a glamour pussy edible diamond encrusted one.
They’re like an Alice in Wonderland, Barbie Dolly, Willy Wonka, Girly gay treat of madness. I will die for these pieces of cake.