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Happy afternoon you delicious bundles of love bunny. Just to remind you that you are reading this little blog with the wonderful members of the world, with excellent taste and an eye for a Glamour Puss.

You are not at all alone. The world is living, right here with you. We all love, we all cry, we all laugh, we all live. If i can bring people together for one delicious moment, then i feel like my job is quite merrily done.

Whether you are a teenage girl in Japan, just getting home from school, or a middle aged man from Utah, alone with no one to love? If you are a shirtless hottie in Spain, laid with an iphone on the beach, or a 2o something lady, in a taxi thinking about your falling apart relationship? Whether you’re an actor in Hollywood, at a coffee shop wishing for stardom, or a housewife in Britain wishing for better times…I’ve been all of the above…apart from a man and in Japan…:) Welcome to Wunna Land. I’m bringing you together and purely by accident. It’s amazing how it’s all kinda happened. (I mean my first blog entry ever, that i began years ago in LA, before this actual site was born, was written by someone else, on Myspace because i didn’t know what to say? ) Thankyou for reading. I don’t know why you do, or whether i deserve it. Lol. But i love it! (So don’t flipping stop.) I do totally think i deserve it. Lets not get carried away with the humility.

The current TOP FIVE countries reading my blog, THIS MONTH, so far…are:

1. USA

2. GREAT BRITAIN

3. CHINA

4. GERMANY

5. SWEDEN

Thankyou so much! You’re company is greatly appreciated!

Make your mark. Live out your dreams. Celebrate who and what you stand for. If you’re down, get HAPPY right now! Do not wallow in self pity. It’s a waste of your precious time!  Be bold. Be noticed. Care not what others think and MARCH forward. You can achieve ANYTHING. All you have to do is believe and love a confetti shower!

All my heart,

Chrissie Wunna x

Morning my lovely lumps of ‘lick lick.’ I woke up this morning feeling hazy yet tanned. Luckily, (and at 7.29am,) i was immediately gifted with a charm bracelett from ‘Pandora’ for being such a wonderful cat of kitty. It’s the best way really. As soon as i open my eyes, and sniff, just shove some kind of GIFT in my face and i’ll immediately like you, due to everything being ‘material’ girl.

I’m actually not sure why i deserved such a gift? But fuck it. It sure as hell made me like 7.29am, more than i actually normally do. 7.29am is certainly a time for do-gooders. I’m usually rolling over or screaming out in my sleep, due to a past of sinning, at that particular turn of day. It’s that odd time, where it’s not actually a happy ‘lets start our day,’ moment. However, it’s a time that suggests an ungainly, ‘because i have to,‘ wake up shuffle. I used to always try to begin my day early, but i found it tedious and boring. I enjoy short *spits* of dramatic entertainment. If i’m ever twiddling my thumbs, it’s best to back away from me, (without me knowing, if i know, you’re in doubley trouble,) as my little slanted eyes will *scan* around the room and hunt for a victim. That victim will be toyed with in any fashion that i seem fit, in order to quench my boredom. It’s awful, i know. (Lol.) But see! I can’t help but laugh! ( I was raised all kinds of wrong.)

My *Thing-a-ling* is really starting to merrily drain me a bit now. My body is going through major changes and well i can’t really talk about it too much, because i am writing a secret ‘moment to moment’ account (in book form) which will help other Kittens, who may also go through the same *thing-a-ling,’ in the present or the future! But let me tell you, i’m not finding it easy. (Haha.) I’m like Godzilla…but less fit and slimy. (Well i do get slimy, but only when Pete decides he’s going to bend me over a bath-tub, with my leg lifted into the air, followed by it being WRAPPED around his body, whilst he watches my bum, do a *jiggle* thing that he ever so dearly enjoys! This was yesterday, in the bathroom that belonged to his Mother. He can’t resist my jiggly bum and has to tendency for *pumpy,* whenever he sees it, before he shamefully mushes in his pants. He also (and most of the time) FORGETS, that i’m a Darling.. ageing SEX symbol and not an ageing GYMNAST! I must have looked like a right proper ape, trying to do a series of *pouty-sex* faces poorly, whilst groaning. God help me. All i remember him saying was ‘look at that ass,’ all excited like a kiddie. (Well not a kiddie. I don’t sleep with children. But i did moisture my right nipple in the kitchen yesterday, by a microwave.)

Annnnyway! Yeah, later he redeemed himself by sitting with me whilst we watched ITV2, (not his favourite, but i was tired of watching depressing rescue, caught on camera by police shows.) He made me a dinner of veg, potatoes and steak & ale pie, followed by performing *finger art.* Finger art is when he does ‘half a heart’ shape, with one hand, with his fingers, and i am to complete the ‘heart shape’ with onehand, with MY fingers…therefore making a ‘whole’ lovely HEART! It’s cute. I love it. (The madness doesn’t end here. Be warned!) Then he peeks through it, with one eye and tells me that he loves me. I then *peeky* through it, all excited, smiley and bimboey and tell him that i LOVE him. (Lol. This is sounding quite mentally ill.)

When i did it last night, he pissed himself laughing. He sees me as this googly, wide eyed, doll of *cutsie wootsie.* He currently finds me adorable, pure and giggly..which i am, served with an occasional side of *vixen.* I’m both. But mainly Playful, with a sense of wit. He’s gone so utterly far on this *cutsie wootsie* theory that he’s actually fooled himself into believing i’m a virgin.I’M NOT EVEN JOKING! Ask him!  I’ve never been compared to Mother Mary….with fake tits…before. (I did have to remind him that i had actually had sex before and awww…you should’ve seen the sheer *baby shock* on his face! Oh the disappointment.) He also tried to *hint* at no more public pictures of me naked, from the neck down and more pictures of me representing myself, from the neck UP! I’m shooting for my book cover shortly and well his ideas, are simply similar to the ones that say, maybe my MOTHER would come up with. *Snooze-fest.* I want deliciousness and campiness! And i always get what i want!

Other than that, i was feeling mildy *sad face* early, but only because i hate it when i’m on the phone to someone and they have bad reception. Every 2.4 minutes their voice turns all robotty and then they get cut off, whilst i’m still talking. It drives me up the wall, trying to finish a sentence during the course of 41 different calls. I got crazily frustrated and decided to put my moody boobs on. *Strut-strut-smashes something valuable.*

Luckily, a Dairylea triangle of cheese, (I’ve had 3) actually and rather oddly saved the day. It made me happy, during my time of a complete loss of appetite. I glared into my fridge and realized it was the only thing i could bare to eat! I’m all natural today..(apart from my chest)…therefore in a moment of *panic,* I needed something FAKEY, to make me feel better. The cheapness of the Dairylea turned me on a bit. I grabbed it like it was a steak dinner, and worshipped every moment that it slithered into my system. (Note: I did actualy EAT it and not put it somewhere naughty. I’ve made it all sound a bit dirty, by accident.) There’s just something about a Dairylea slice that i embarassingly enjoy. I mean it looks like cheese, it tastes (a bit) like cheese. Yet if you were to actually unravel it from it’s sexy silvery foil and take a good long look at it. There is distinctly something, so superficial about it. It’s perfectly sculpted, and not like that real crumbly shoddy kind of ‘falling apart’ cheese. It’s like a gelatine, artificial, glossy mould, of child-like fun. That’s what i love about it the most.

 Therefore whilst i imagined myself sitting on a giant disco ball over the entire world, as i waved at my subjects, in heels and lip gloss. I realized that i was lucky to simply be alive and happy. Being moody was a waste of any Queens time! I’m the  joyous Ultimate Glamour Puss and exciting things are happenning to me. My dream was to become a writer and an Icon. (Don’t laugh. ) I have the *icon* thing down. However, now the writer thing, is well on it’s WAY! (Oh, note; I watched the the American BFF show yesterday evening before i indulged in ‘Katie & Alex’ and i’ve decide i only like the Hilton BFF shows, if i’m actually ON them. When i’m not, i’m truely not bothered about watching them. LMAO. That’s terrible isn’t it. But true. I didn’t even watch the last episode of ours, because i was no longer in it. Lol. However, i AM, excited to watch Janice Dickinson on ‘Celebrity Come Dine With Me’ tonight. I enjoy her on my telly box, causing mayhem for the simple sake of entertainment.)

I’m here loving life, yet occasionally moaning for no reason due to my hormones being all unbalanced. Yet technically my life is fabulous. I love being ME! It couldn’t be any better! (Well mildy.) Now, i’ve written this, i’m back to being positive again. I’ve had my juicy vent. So weirdly i must love to entertain the world through actual written world. Yet again..i only like to write about myself! I zone-out, if it’s about someone else.

So whenever you think you have it bad, KNOW that in some part of Africa right now (and i’ve just read this in like Heat Magazine or something,) there are little African girls getting their actual boobies IRONED down, by their own dear MOTHERS, in order to make them less attractive to men. You can’t have your boobies IRONED down! I mean, heellloooo? How are they gonna get free dinners at posh restuarants, by ‘Handsomes’ when their older? I’d die without my boobs! (I’m having an ‘i miss Samuel’ moment. No-one enjoys my fakies like that boy of utter gayage. I love him. We felt each other up, sooo entirely much in the BBF house it was almost pornographic. His bestie ‘Josh’ would always see me out gay clubbing and scream ‘You’re nothing without your tits!!!’ Haha. I love Josh! Those were the days.)

Plus, if that isn’t bad enough..also KNOW that in Russia, some chicks are being kidnapped off their local high street and being stolen to be BRIDES! Eww- eww *terror!* It’s awful, if you’re commitment phobe much. You can’t just steal a bird, to be your wife and it be okay! However, it’s actually NOT against Russian law AND the Russian chickalickers actually don’t mind it.  It apparently means that their parents don’t need to pay a guy loads of money to TAKE their daughter. What an odd concept? ( Put that vodka down bitches. I mean i’ve been a drunken socialite and there’s naked shimmi-ing on top of bars to tropical, ‘in your own head’ beats for attention and then there’s letting some fat Russian dude bag you up and force marriage upon you, to save ya mum a quick penny. If you’re gonna be a drunk and least be a happy one! There’s no way in HELL, you’ll find me being stolen and perfoming horny, naked Russian hat dances, to dirty chubby vodka drinkers, with beards and boners the size of [insert anything in this space, that you find appropriate, here!]

If you’re British you don’t really have it that bad. You just think you do. Do we have it better than the Americans? I don’t know? (I mean, i regard myself as half Angleno, after having emotional grown up in Hollywood for a lovely large luscious decade.) I will tell you that Nicolas Cage just admitted to sitting at home alone and doing drugs with his cat…Therefore take what you will from that and wave any flag, be it Union, Starry-striped, Skull and boned or even Rainbow.. and do it darlings….with Pride!

I love you my pretty kitty cats! xxx

Ola and I argueing in the back of a taxi, on the telly about Carrie! (She’s left, i’m right…just incase you can’t tell the difference between ethnics. )

So i’m reading this book, which is telling me that there is a parallel version of me living right now, this second, but in MY future and i’m desperate to know what they’re doing and whether i’m surrounded by pure luxury, bubble baths and kittens. If not, i’m gonna have to rewind and change a few things around until i am…and i have grapes being served to me by shirtless Greek Gods, and butlers shining the perfect lighting on me whilst i *wink* at my boudior filled with material pieces of object.

Then there’s another book (which i regard as my saucy Bible of naughtiness) telling me that it’s important to take a moment out of life, to sit in *calm* and play with the art of ‘flashback.’ (Well i do that, all the time…accidentally…even when i don’t want it to.) It reads: ‘For all of us there is a moment that epitomises our lives- a moment when your more yourself than any other time, an instant of absolute self realisation.’ That moment is apparently when you think back in flashback form, to a moment you can remember from your past. You know how we have odd *flashback* events that we can remember from the past? Well yeah kittens…that! Try it. What do you remember?

Well my moment is ofcourse made up of loads of moments. I’ve lived this bitty life of insanity. It seems my mind shoots me everywhere and anywhere through all of my ages, decades and years. Even if i don’t want to venture there. If i *mind* back to my childhood, to my earliest memories…what i remember is being about 4 years old and sitting in the dark, of my parents lovely home in Doncaster. I was kneeling by a rolled up ‘carpet log’ of future lay down, in my mum & dads bedroom. Most children would begin to play with Barbies, i guess? I got a box of yellow Swan matches, and began striking them for no reason, other than the fact that i loved to watch a flame dance. I think, il oved bringing  light into darkness. I thought it was magical. Or maybe i just wanted to celebrate a moment…with fire. People do that! Romance is celebrated by candle light. Disney land is celebreated with fireworks. I remember feeling at peace, calm and happy. I always do, under, by or near flames. I love sparkling light.

My ‘love,’ all went a bit too far though, because then i wondered what would happen if i lit the match, watched the dancing flame, then threw it on the carpet I did this quite a lot. After i had thrown the lit match and watched it land on the log of rolled up carpet, i would wait calmly, to see what would happen, then quickly *blow* it out, before the whole room set on fire.

At four years old, i knew that i HAD to *blow* it out, in order to not cause chaos and be safe. At Twenty four, i forgot that concept and just let the whole shit (which was now my life) BURN. (And in Hollywood, after a giant emotional beat down. Yippee!)  It’s weird how to can sort of look back and see how your earliest mememories or actions mirror your adult life. ( I also had a mud pie restuarant in our garden, full of imaginary customers and a whole stressful pretend love life at 7 years of age. But that was hilarious and my little secret vice of creativity. I’m actually laughing at how, *all the way* i took the drama of it all. To my slinky little waitress walk, to my huffing and puffing at how stressful my mud pie kitchen was, due to all the pretend orders. Lol. )

 To me and for that moment…it was real! I loved playtime and the gift of being an only child…until i was 8. I played like no other…and oddly sometimes it would get a bit pretend raunchy. Lol.

The other *flashbacks* i can sort of still see from my youth, is being at my child minders home, who i LOVED ever so muchly, at about 5. I’m knelt down in her living room, by a low cupboard and the room is all a grey/blue. She asking me if i want to share my orange felt tip pen with other people, or whether i just want to keep it for myself. I’m telling her i want to save it for myself and not share it at all…and she’s telling me off for being ‘selfish.’ LMAO! I remember that clearly. She was pretty much my second Mother and boy did i need one. I don’t mean because i had a rubbish First one…because i luckily had AMAZING first one. I guess, what i’m trying to say is that i’m a girl who not only needs a whole lot of warm supervision, and guidance. But i also have a terrible need for bundles of affection and a glorious amount of GOOD  attention.

I enjoy how this morning, i was being forced to sniff my own toilet roll….(even though it was candy scented)

….and Miss.Hilton was sitting on about 20 bags of rather glamourous ‘I’m going places-in a private jet’ luggage. You can’t win’em all.

Woke up this morning to a friend who believes it’s not at all rude to shove a cylinder of toilet roll in my face, the minute i open my eyes. Was my face crying? NO! Was my face doing a poo? No! She simply (dear friend,) wanted me to smell my own bog roll and because it was delightfully scented! (OMG Chrissie! Even you’re toilet roll smells delicious. Can i keep it?’)

I did find all this pokery quite charming and cute. Therefore with a smile i gave my Queenly nod of approval and she danced around the room like i’d just given her a piece of bread. (She’s on a  diet. A low carb one. We all have a friend who’s on a low carb diet. Yet my friend, goes into my kitchen and stuffs her face with Marks & Spencers biscuits & wonders why her diet isn’t working. I actually think i saw her licking a chunk of raw meat.)

I will tell you that, yes…i am amazing and feeling deliciously GREATNESS this fine morning of Wednesday. I’m slowly catching up on my sleep, so now i’m not all grumbly and *tragic.* There is nothing better than NOT having to train down to London to wake up at 4am and place on a pair of stockings for entertainment. I feel wonderful and because i’m back to chilling and doing one of the only things i love and that (My kittens) is…this…my blog. When i’ve been away getting distracted by nonsense, my time seem to become so scheduled up that my blog, my life, my everything was getting neglected. My blog is my therapy. If i’m not venting it all out, i’m twisting it all in. Twisting inward just isn’t my thing. I’m an outward shimmie girl! If you do not express your emotions…you will become a completely miserable force of self destruction. Be it good. Be it bad. Let it out! (I do mine shirtless. You can too. *Wink-Pout-Hair toss-Wiggle.*)

In that paragraph, what i did want to tell you, was that my delightfully scented toilet roll, actually smells like rose petals and skittles, in one. (I KNOW!!!) It’s like a rosey-candy smell of yum yum and it is the most superior toilet roll in all of the land. If you’re really not using it, then you’re not really a glamour puss. I’ll let you all smell it, but i’ve given it to my low carbed friend who’s finally dandied off to her own house. I’m a great host. But i can’t deal with people who are carb free and hormonal. I’m the no diet Kitty Queen. I love my curves and can’t bare to see someone starve.

Girls..when you learn that boys love curves..you will be happy. I mean we all have those days when we look in the mirror and think we’re ugly, or chubby, or not hot enough, or simply just plain. Even to this day, i feel that way on the odd, lonely occasion ans usually when i feel that way,it’s when something has happened to me in my love life or work life. It’s more an internal pain, then external.

The trick is to just work what you’ve got and confidentally. Behappy about it and CELEBRATE IT. (I say that all the time, but only because you kinda need a reminder.)  I find beauty in everyone, be them plain, dollified, surgeried, or natural. Your personality and ‘Ooh laa’ count! It makes a GIANT difference. Sometimes very pretty people forget to develop a delicious personality, because htey are guarneteed some kind of attention for merely existing. Yet at the same time, people who do not regard themselves as beautiful or sexy, forget to *show off* their personality, due to lack of confindence and that too is just as bad. Be brave. Don’t take yourself seriously. But most of all have fun! Play with life! Keep that mind a cheeky! *Giggles.*

Now, i get a lot of flack for strutting around all glamour pussy, in diamonds, and heels, all a *pout* and a *winky.* But i’m celebrating ME and fun, and who i am. I love life and being Chrissie Wunna! I love people! But i will tell you that I really am one of the best people i know. I’m really good friends with myself. I’m confident, fun, cheeky, and loving. I’ll open my arms (and legs ) to everyone and anyone, warm heartedly…even if they’re about to screw me over. (And not the good kind.) When you enjoy you’re own company, you can spread the joy to others. People like that person because they associate them with fun, laughter and happiness. Remember that Dollies! There is nothing wrong with loving who you are and rejoicing it to the world!

I’ve actaulyl just read that previous blog i wrote about Loverboy and cringing. LMAO! God, i’m a twat at times. Yes, we have made up and we’re back in a mode i like to refer to as *cuddley-buddley.* I called him last night (I’m soft, i know, but i love him.) It really was the best thing to do, because we got straight back to how we are,which is romantic and loving and gigglyand happy. With a tiny, ‘over the phone’ eskimo nose rub. ( I do that to him quite a lot.) Followed by a cutsie screw up on my face. We glided upward back to cloud 9, where we flew down from and as he apologised.. ( I never did. Hahah. Got away with it much!)..I realised how happy i was.

I mean i’m now going to have someone to *kiss* under fireworks and eat candied apples with on Bonfire night. I’m now gonna have someone to dress up for on Halloween. (I love that i was a Sparrow last year. A fucking sparrow. *Mental case.*) But most importantly, i’m gonna have a ‘lovely’ to spend a magical Christmas with and *smoochie* under the mistletoe. We’ll celebrate the art of gift giving, stocking filling and love. Awww…. It’s my FAVOURITE TIME OF YEAR! Ugh, i wish it was Christmas NOW! (Plus, i have a Crimbo birthday bitches!)

My life is a changing so fast, along with the seasons. This year has been a year of the BIGGEST immediate changes! You will all hear about all of that jiggery pokery later. But right now, just enjoy being you and kinda being YOU, in JULY! Time is such a weird thing. It’s an illusion. It’s a structure that has been placed on this earth for us to navigate our way through life in an orderly fashion. I hate time. It makes us panic and stress and feel like we’re not doing well enough for a certain month, year, time, or age. I never wear a watch. I only wear watches (if i so wish) for decoration and honestly never for time telling.

You can have anything you want at ANY time. Age does not matter. It’s just how you decide to use your life and mind that matters. I mean i hear little boys and girls stressing because they’re never gonna make it in showbusiness because they’re now 23 and i LAUGH. It shows me how little they know about the world, life and entertainment. It’s just an excuse they use in order to massage over the fact that they might not have tried hard enough. I know plenty of people who have made it BIG and not oneof those people ever said that! They ALWAYS knew they were going to make it no matter what. I also found that they didn’t waste time thinking about their age, and put their time to better use…which was working on their craft!

I love you. Oh go on… like…Forever.

Loong day! Today was the day that Loverboy and I went on an afternoon of appartment/house hunting…a job that i find tedious, boring and draining. I actually hate it and have zero interest in such a task. I mean, i’ve lived everywhere and in about 14 different places since being 19. This isn’t such a big deal to me. Just *point* and i’ll move my shit in. Done deal.

Pete..on the other hand, treasures this moment like it’s the most preciously, exciting time of his life. He’s probably lived in approximately ONE place since moving out of his parents and regards a *move* as a BIG thing…especially one with me, as it notches other solid step with ‘The Wunna,’ that he’s managed to achieve.

Bottom line…we fought…and about 20 minutes ago i *hair tossed* & flounced out of his car, with a stern home truth, topped off with a *slam* of the door. I was also in my hot yellow jacket , which always makes me feel powerful. *Strut-strut-get out of my way.* His new thing is, dropping me back off home when i’m moody, to try and punish me. *Snooze* I’m not 5 years old. Plus, if i was…i’d love my naughty step. The bad thing is that it always backfires on him, because whenever he drops me off, all i do is walk out of his car and gallop into my home merrily. I’m happy anywhere. I enjoy my own company. You open a door and i’ll *shimmie* out of it, with a smile and a glint of *adventure* in my eye.

I’m feisty today, really feisty and this afternoon ended with him making cheap ‘heard them all before’ remarks about my life and how i don’t actually now what a normal life of reality is. ERM???? Just because i worked hard, moved to Hollywood, made a lot of money, lived my dream, struggled my way to getting on a fun show, and gave up everything for my career as a young twenty year old, doesn’t mean i don’t know what a normal life is! I came from a normal life. I worked hard for what i wanted. I worked hard for my dream…which was pretty much OUT OF Yorkshire, in Hollywood and in entertainment. I achieved my fairytale, due to ambition, love, determination and dedication. Just because another ‘being’ didn’t…doesn’t mean they have to take a jab at me to make themselves feel better. That’s the second indirect sarcastic *jab* he’s made at me recently. The first being yesterday over dinner. I’m not liking it and well i felt attacked. So what did i do…i told him a  few home truths about himself…which ‘oh dear’ he didn’t enjoy too much! I’m really angry at him right now. Therefore, i’ve opted for spending my free time with my family, friends and cyberland fans. It makes me happy, because i feel much more appreciated. If i do anything, i champion people on to celebrate who THEY are and make encourage them to chase their dreams. When some boy is giving me the ‘well it’s not like you’ve had a proper job’ speech. It irritates me.

Entertainment IS a PROPER job, if you do well at it and i’ve done well. I’m happy. He’s just pissed off because i’ve followed a dream and managed to do something that i adore.I celebrate it loudly with a cheeky gallop of ‘ooh laa.’  He never did follow his dream because (wait for it) OH LOOK…he couldn’t be arsed! He grew up around friends who didn’t care about their lives too much. I grew up around Hollywood friends with a delicious sense of drive and ambition. It rubs off on you. You’re a product of your environment.

I feel like he tried to verbally ‘have a go’ today… but couldn’t. I’m as strong as they come. You try and get me from any angle. You’ll bounce right off me, without me even having to say anything. I’m not like one of his normal chavy girfriends. If you’re gonna date Chrissie Wunna, then you’ll learn how i do life! You can either fight the force out of fear or join it. I suggest you join..and simply because i make great cocktails. (I don’t make them. I buy them.)

Anyhow, this will all be sorted by tonight or tomorrow, so i’m having a quick vent. But i’m not apolgising. He can. I don’t know what’s up with him right now? Yet that behaviour is not only unacceptable, but also ‘tired.’ Boys gets like this with me after a while. It was almost like…and dare i even say it…But yeah, it was almost like,  for one tiny moment.. he was jealous. (I don’t enjoy boys like that. Same story, different face.)

After we saw some tiny appartment in Leeds today, we actually had a really lovely time. We first went for drinks at ‘The Lounge’ which was all lush, divine and sexy. Littered with extravagant velvet rouge chairs of ultimate glamour. I only got a cranberry juice and weirdly, i’m liking being all *teetotal.* Who’d a thought?

Anyhow because they wouldn’t let us order off the Supper menu, Pete decided he wanted to leave and go to ‘Nash’s’ which is an old school fish & chip restuarant. It’s actually amazing,. I mean as soon as you wlak into that place, you feel like you’re immediately glided back int ime to another era. The place smelt delicious…asn well i’m northern. I LOVE a good old plate of the best cooked fish and chippies! It was delicious, but the venue began to smell a bit like a Grannies closet.

To my left was an old couple. Probably in their 70′s i think? They were dressed to the nines, which i actually truely love. Music from romantic olden times were playing, the place with decorated with dark wood and oozed a decades old atmosphere. There were large old fashioned cages with fake birds in them.. a swinging. (As in merrily and not as in partner swapping during sex.) Not only did i notice that the granny had a black jumper on and a bright red berret. But i also noticed that whenever she was super full she would give out a GIANTLY loud *BURP* without a care in the world…almost as if she was a pirate. I LOVED that, but unfortunately can’t help but piss myself in those situations.

I laughed out loud, whilst trying to hide behind a cuppa tea. (Not a very good thing to hide behind really.) I looked at her, after really trying hard not to and she gave me a *wink.* Which i returned with a polite *giggle.* I WANT to be her, when i’m old. I’m sit their in my red berret, burping air back into my system loudly for attention. I can’t wait! (Well, i kinda can.)

Lunch was lovely. I bought us it, because at that time Loverboy and I were being all cute and lovey dovey. It was the car journey back home where the bickering began. He wanted to go from estate agent, to estate agent, and look at as many houses as possbile that were for sale, in the nearest nicest block. I was exhausted. I still am from London and i’m in a condition where i’m getting tired really easily because e’s on a different body clockage to me.

I will have got up at 4am, worked for the morning, written for a bit and got my groove on. He will them hang out with me, but instead of granting me much needed early night, he keeps me up and working on his body clock.

The other night, we took me to Mal Maison in leeds for a groegous steak dinner. I was utterly exhausted, but still dolled up and without complaining went with him. It is such a deliciously divine place. Yet i couldn’t really enjoy it because i was so tired. That ‘too tired’ when you feel like you’re simply existing in some parcel of flesh, that seems to be functioing hazily, yet you do not know how. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. But i did it, and i did it for him!

I had been up for 20 hours of that 24 hour day…and Loverboy (Mr.Fairytale) couldn’t be arsed to think of that due to his drinking and smoking. He wanted to carry on going out with me. But i just couldn’t. Infact, he kept rubbing in the fact that I must be ridicluously tired. THEN TAKE ME HOME!

When i did get home i just *passed out* in my sheets in a heavenly fashion. Tonight will actually be great because i will finally get to enjoy an early night, time to relax, recoup and just be me. I can’t wait! I’m excitde! especially after the day i’ve had. I’ve felt a bit *pushed* and hurried into things by him at the estate agents today. I’m have commitment phobia. Pushing and hurrying me into something terrifies me, due to past mistakes. It makes my heart beat faster and my palms sweat. (It’s not a good thing.) Boys always seem to do that to me, because they don’t want to give me time to think. If i think, they fear that i might not go through with it.

Right now, I need space and luckily tonight i will have it. Family & kittens here i come! YIPPEEE! (Aww, i do do adore my tiny kittens. I love my time alone with them. They look at me, like they seem to want something other than food, shelter and booze. That thing is love and if i can do anything, i can sure as hell give love.

Stressful day. Boy drama. Eww! The funny thing about all this, is that we actually and very ACCIDENTALLY wore matching outfits today, in bright yellow. (This isn’t the first time.) Pete enjoys matching. I prefer a miss-match…match. We got called a pair of ‘yellow chickens’ today and ridiculed by polish people. Life couldn’t be better. #saveme

I apologise deeply for not blogging in what seems like ages. I am currently exhausted due to *not fun* work and the early mornings, the travelling, the lack of jiggery pokery is really begining to eat away at my soul. I need peace, rest and happiness. I intend to start that lovely regime of ‘kitty cat’ TODAY and i really don’t give two delicious flying *hoo-haa’s* about what others may think. You can’t run on empty…no matter how hard they try to make you. I represent fullness, joy and a cheeky giggle of sexuality. When we are happy, we are at our strongest and all i know is that doing little spits of *not my passion* jobs, (even though it is entertainment) is the quickest way to lose. Luckily, i’m Chrissie Wunna (here me roar..and all that!) With a *snap* of my fingers and a *wink* to a starnger, i close my eyes (code for: ‘make a few phonecalls,’) make a wish..(which means ‘throw a yummy tantrum,) and everything changes. I open my eyes and see a new day, a new life, and a complete *oOze* of utter happiness. If you also are not enjoying something in your life, that you feel you are HAVING to do. Change it. You can. I just did and bitches, i feel AMAZING!

Saturday morning, a little glamour puss jumped off her tiny ‘studio set’ of a boudior pad, after hearing the words, ‘okay, that’s it girls, you’re off air. You’re free to go!’ And she tottered like no other, towards a rather musty smelling dressing room, covered in cheap mirrors that gifted the images of the evening before and the scent of the bad old news. She threw on a pair of too tight jeans, and a jumper. She pulled off her pearls, *pouted-breathed.* Then after quickly signing a piece of paper which recoreded her existance, she LEGGED it (like no other) down Camden high street at 10.10am, in actual FLIP FLOPS to the tube station, in the morning heatwave sun, to finally get on a running late subway train, arrive at Kings Cross, with  3 minutes to spare, read a text message that informed her not to *rush* or *panic* due to her current condition and with a calm *RUSH AND PANIC* she flitted up Platfrom 9, weaving in and out of various SLOW moving bodies, with dangerous luggage on wheels, all elbows, heart and suffering from exhaustion. (WHY DO PEOPLE IN LONDON WITH LUGGAGE ON FRICKING WHEELS, MOSEY AROUND AIMLESSLY, ALL LOST AND BEWILDERED LIKE STONED, ‘I’ve lost my sheep’  LEMMINGS!?!)

One minute to spare, after checking which Platform held her train back to Pontefract, which was a battle in itself due to the station being littered with angry, ‘My train is totally cancelled’ busy bodies…and jews.

Then with a moment lfet before her future egded away wiht out her, she charges down Platform 4, sees the train guard about to blow on his tiny ‘makes him feel important’ whistle. She breezes past him, like a devil from Tazmania, accidentally hits him with her bag (that she got on offer from Bank.) He halts, and glares at her with a face that would suggest a Grand central railway banning. She looks back and him, *smiles,* apologises and *winks.* (When in doubt girls, USE your powers of femininity that GOD so GREATLY gifted us with! I mean, what’s the use of being a Woman if you’re not going to truely exploit the *FE* in your *MALE.*)

Perfectly as planned, he forgives her with a smile, blushes, plays a harmless little ‘ooh i’mnot going to let you on the train’ game with her. (You know that game when a person is stood in your way, and as you step to the right…they do. Then as you step to the left…they do. It continues in this fashion, until they eventually get bored. Tedious, i know, but fuck it, i had a train i needed to catch and if that meant jiggling my boobies to that crappy game of train guard flirtation, then so be it. I’ve caught myself doing a lot worse.)

4 seconds to spare and the little Glamour puss is sat in carriage ‘C’ of her Grand Central, train journey back to Pontefract, completely exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and in stripes. I forbid anyone to sweat in stripes. It’s disgusting. I sipped my Dr.Pepper, laid back, made a phone call and sighed, as my train slowly glided away from Kings cross. It didn’t feel bad leaving. It actually felt wonderful. Like i was being *life-lined* away from hell. (Ever so dramatic.)

I had been up since 4am, being treated with disregard by gentlenmen on the phone who kept telling me they wanted to do disgusting things to my bum hole, whilst their wife was away. My bumhole doesn’t like that and yes…I despise men of that caliber. I mean why would you say that to me? That was your ONE shot to make an impression. (‘Hi, i’m Ben from Manchester and i want to force my fingers into your anus and rip it open sexually. Do you like that? Don’t worry my wife  won’t find out.’ Your wife finding out is not my immediate worry sir!) I mean how *eww.* I paused in life. It took some time to register. This was about the 4th person to open with such a line. *Open* being the scary word. I’m a germaphobe, ask Pete. I don’t like strangers touching me without my consent or suggesting that they would. Lol. I ended it with a ‘Hi i’m Chrissie…your shirt sucks. Now MOVE.’ [Oh go on...put a *Hair Toss* in there!]

I’m a  Glamour Puss. I enjoy love, romance, winks and goodness. Cheap, *finger to the butt hole* words, repulse me, due to the lack of passion, depth and emotion contained in them. I get looked and glared at a lot by gentleman, and never in my life have i had a morning that bad, where the undesirables hit on me in the most disgusting fashions. I got into a great deal of arguments..but i don’t care. Woman are the objects of every mans desire. We should be worshiped and not disrespected! I thought of all the perverted men who talk to women like that, and as i angrily sat on my calm train home ( i was travelling backwards) i decided i was going to make a difference.

I’ve woken up to the most beautiful morning filled with blue skies, chirping birds and leopard print cups filled to the brim with tea! I initially opened my eyes at 7.29am, after being poked by a Great Lady who felt the need to emotionally pour her life upon me, via language. I’m a wonderful listener when tired. I pretend i’m listening and just fall back to sleep.

I’m feeling, cheeky, delicious and a little bit sick this morning. I have that nausea thing again, where i wake up, eat a Weetabix and want to maybe do a little puke. I didn’t puked (and because i’m a glamour puss.) but the thought of puking did bring back haunting memories from my drunken past of marvel. I remember crawling up some really posh street, in Kensington, in a baby pink dress, after having fallen on the pavement through tipsiness, after a boy didn’t love me. Everything fell out of my clutch and scattered around me, as if it where trying to escape the madness. A wonderful hotel concierge, found me, (whilst i was scaling a wall, to try and find my way back to luxury) and without uttering a single word of disapproval, he smiled and gently escorted me to my giant upgraded princess suite. I tucked myself in, (still in my party clothes) and vomitted. I loved that concierge..he reminded me of the one in the movie ‘Pretty woman,’ who helps Julia Roberts buy a dress, when no-one else in Beverly Hills would.

Anyway enough of all the *rubba-bubba,* lets get back to the magic! Today, i’ve got to venture back to London. It seems as though i’ve only just got back. But i’m having to yo-yo, back and forth for work. I’m trying to keep as fit as possible. Yet i won’t lie. It’s exhausting me. I’m an oldie now and it really is true when people tell you that your body slows down on you when you get older. My mind is fast, but my body is sat on a bench somewhere, in a lovely park of ‘quiet time.’

I get stopped a quite a lot by delightful life passengers and told in astonishment that I look divinely young for my age. However, let me tell you…it doesn’t really matter how old you look..you’re body will still conk out on you. It’s important to take care of it. I never did and now i will have to pay! (For surgery ofcourse. ) *Calls Doctor-Cries into her salad.*

I really am having an ‘i can’t be arsed to go to London’ day today. Someone’s gonna have to literally *boot*me on that train, with a Lucozade and a sparkler, to make me go. (Sparklers distract me.) I just keep trying to remember that, you don’t get anywhere in life if you don’t work hard. It’s a concept that makes me sick. I’ve been a lady of leisure for most of my pussy years and believe me when i say that, that was a time when i had never been more content. My mum ALWAYS told me, to enjoy the peace..because once i start working, i would have zero time for myself. (UGH…i hate the fact that i never listen. I’m awlays one to soldier on, doing everything my own stupid goddamn way!)

 When i’m doing something that i actually have a passion for, i enjoy every moment of it, whole heartedly. When i’m not, and i’m simply collecting a *pay check* i resent each moment of the work. Do not do jobs that you hate. It will eat away at your soul. Live your fairytale and make your dreams come true!

I’m excited today because my bestest friend, my cyberland King of Wunna Land organization, has got a date tonight! (Woohoo!) Wazza never goes out of dates, so this one is all special and doubley exciting. I believe he’s treating her to cocktails and Japanese food. So i’m keeping my pretty little fingers crossed that another love story is formed. He’s actually shitting himself, which i find cute. Good boys are always scared on first dates. Bad boys, or girls like me are never scared on first dates! I ACE first dates and simply because i’ve been on about 400 of them. I’m like the QUEEN of first dates. I could champion one blind folded. I should try that one time. (‘Hi i’m Chrissie, don’t be alarmed…i have no eyes!’)

Infact, little Wazza called me last night for encouragement, with him being all terrified etc… (Aww how cute!) This is actually his first ever proper date. I mean he’s hung out with chicks before, but in a sort of ‘group like’ situation. Ooh that makes it sound like an orgy! What i mean is, when your friends, meet their friends… at a average local bar. I don’t DO group dates. I want candle lit romance and i won’t settle for anything less. You can’t get to know someone when you’re surrounded by every other person they know in the world. If your too scared to meet me alone, then you might aswell not bother. I’m not a kitty for the faint hearted. Your strength will be tested! I will say, that I’m old school, when it comes to love. I want to be wined and dined…kissed and cuddled. Not handed a shot and told to meet his friend ‘Ben.’ Eww… bad manners much!

I do feel slightly nervous for Wazza though because his dates usually go shit. (I can snag the boy, but i usually tend to messing it up during the reltaionship, because i hate being tied down. Wazza mucks his up, pretty much within the first 17 minutes.) This one won’t be too bad though because we’ve discovered that if we actually date people our own age…we seem to have more in common with them. We’ve both always dated younger, (well i’ve dated everyone of all ages really…) but well we wondered why we thought they were so psychotic and immature? Now we’ve figured it all out and it simply means we shouldnt date people who are a decade younger than us. They will ‘act out’ because they are not yet comfortable in their own skin. (This one girl who Wazza went on a date with, actually told him that she had had each and every one of her toenails pulled off, due to some kind of foot fungi.) We need more Glamour pusses in the world! That is unaccpetable first date behaviour. I mean, who look sat a boy, and in a moment of panic tells him ON DATE one that she has no toenails and the ones she did have we’re like rhino hooves. Try and keep it sexy girls. Simple, sexy, sweet.

Ugh, i’ve got to get ready, and pack. I don’t at all want to. I just want to chill and relax. Right now in life,  i feel a bit like a toy or a possession that everyone is a playing tug of war with. Everyone seems to want to hang out, and are fighting their merry way for a tiny bit of Wunna time. (Aaah, i was never very humble.)  I mean, I don’t at all mind..but my arms don’t stretch as far wide as my legs do. Be gentle with me. Purr….:)

I’ve got to go pack. UGH!! No doubt i’ll think of more pathetically tragic, exciting new ideas to toy with that will get me into trouble or cause me to have another bubbly vagina outbreak.

Finally home after a long work week in London and *Wa-Woo-Wee* does it feel good to be back. There’s something about the northen air, the open spaces, the spirit of warmth, that makes me step off a train and nod, with an inside *smile* of *woohoo,* whenever i get back. The main reason I love it, is simply because i don’t feel lonely. I hate to feel lonely. I’m naturally social and going to sleep at nights in an empty appartment is just not my *dat n ting.* I like to be laid back in bed, an able to look to my right and see a body, (not a dead one…ofcourse,) that is there comforting my sheets with me at night. It doesn’t even have to be the body of the boy i love, or a drunk stranger that i lust after…it just needs to be a ‘being,’ any HUMAN ‘being’…be it a friend, a mum, something i’ll regret later, or my lifetime. The warmth of them, and just me KNOWING that they’re there keeping me safe, makes me feel whole. In London i never have that now. I sleep alone. But whenever i get back to Yorkshire, it’s snuggles a plenty (WOOHOO) and this kitty cat, loves her squidges of lurve!!

I worked this morning. Didn’t go as well as it should of…but i’m just exhausted and need a much needed bit of resty time. If i didn’t indulge in the most delicious pedicure yesterday afternoon, i quite possibly would have DIED today. Unlike the ninja, massage bitch, my pedicure man from Korea oozed yumminess. You just can’t go wrong when you’re laid back in a massage chair (note, how an actual chair machine, was better than the chinese therapy lady’s own fricking unruly hands) and having your legs and feet rubbed gently and magically by a ‘handsome’ who acts as though he loves it. My feet we’re plunged into the water of goodness, treated with tender loving care, primped like they were the feet of a goddess (and they are), then each toe was delicately *white tipped* to make me look dainty. Now, i am quite dainty, however, i will admit that i walked into that place with feet like Barney Rubble and walked out of that joint like Miss. (Can i put a *fucking* in there? World!!!

Woke up at 4am. Slept well. I was eased into lingerie by 5am and placed infront of a camera on a white luxurious boudior pad. Today it wasnt fast, but seemed long. I know that doesn’t make sense…but it’s really how it felt. I met a lovely girl today named Evelyn. Blond, skinny, gorgeous…and with an accent that turely made me want to be from some part of eastern europe. Now, i don’t exactly know where she originates from but she definitely had the ‘I’m an ingrid from Sweden’ cutsie wootsie, but sexual thing going on! I was in a baby pink and black lacy number with frilly pants, ans stockings. Evelyn was semi-’french maid.’ Lovely girl, great morning! I am however, getting a low opinion about some men everyday i work there!

I mean, i had a guy pay to talk to me today…and it’s quite a lot of money. Instead of using his time wisely, in a sweet, respectful manner, he decided that at 7am in the morning, the first thing he would say to me was that he was ‘sooo horny’ and needed a ‘release.’ (eww.) Then when i listened in on his background, he actually had a porno on, with a girl screaming really really loudly playing on his Dvd. It kinda made me want to gip! What decent man, calls me up, watches me on a TV screen, tells me he has a dirty boner, whilst sat naked in his living room, (something that he’s NOT allowed to say to me,) with his WIFE upstairs, and with a porn playing loudly behind him on his DVD…and even worse…ALL OF THIS AT 7AM. I mean who does that at 7am??? Sick! The wife part astonishes me to. If you have a wife…love her. Don’t make a mockery of her and the art of love. (I hung up and shook my head.) Men get me completely wrong. Never ever in my entire life, would i ever date a gentleman like that! I hope the penis fairy comes and munches his willy off in his sleep so he’s unable to use it ever again. *licks lips.*

Long story short, finally got to Kings cross, at around 11am. It was packed with irritated sweaty bodies with luggage a plenty, who were all having to cramp into the space under the board that tells you what platform you need to go to. A bunch of trains had been cancelled or delyaed and ofcourse they were all the ones that I needed to get on.

Luckily, just at the right time, i tottered into the scene (as always) saw that my next train was ready and at platfrom 1, galloped on over…exhausted from my 4am wake up call…and found myself a seat…and uncomfortable on on a train to Doncaster.

The train got so packed that it was crammed and sweaty! There were people sat down in the isles, children screaming, grandmothers collapsing, back packers luggaing. I sat next to girl who was part emo and wanted to read about spaceships. Then across the way from me, to my left was a hippie looking woman who not only reads books about stamp collecting (woohoo,) but also pretends shes engaged. She was apparently going to Newark, to meet a man who doesn’t want to meet her. She’s pretending she’s engaged to him. He won’t pick up his phone. LMAO! Girls will be girls!

Behind me..(to add the the circus) was an elderly couple bickering loudly about jews and how they like to drops things on peoples heads, and then a bunch of boys spent the rest of the time staring at my boobies. It was the only entertainment they had…and well…I have great jubblies!

I *open mouth* slept for the next hour and i loved a TWEET i recieved about that. Apparently, i have to becareful that my mouth doesn’t get filled, mid- sleep! Oh honey…what you don’t know about me, is that I’m Chrissie Wunna, not the Virgin Mary (who i believe might have been on crack.) My mouth is usually pretty much always *filled* by some piece of man meat, that tells me, it loves me! I think i deliberately sleep *open mouthed* in dying hope that it gets *filled* by some ‘flied opened, clumsy much’  stranger! Lol. (I woke up to a 5 year old in all pink, and an inferior head band/bandana singing ‘Lord of the Dance,’ to me!

Okay, my train journey should have taken 1 hour 30 mintues. It took THREE! I was well pissed off because i hate being TRAPPED anywhere, by force. I was anxious to get off that thing, and was sick of the hippie chick worrying about when her stop was. I should’ve just pelted her one, to kncok some calm into her. I’m sat there…in my *thing-a-ling* state, craving coconuts and all things tropical, whilst wedged into a corner of a repulsively smelling train….that had barefeet walkers on it and ALL ‘Hippe chick’ can do, is fret about her pretend engagement to a man, who’s still not picking up the phone 3 hours later. She thinks its because he’s busy. I think it’s because she is a hippie, stamp collecting, panic button, imaginary bride. She talked to me like i had all the answers. I just wanted coconuts! (Then i wanted to be sick because i could smell someone eating salt and vinegars crisps behind me.)

Finally got off the train and instead of immediately jumping into a much needed taxi, i decided to blow off some steam by shopping. I grabbed a bundle of tropical flavoured things, then for some reason bought 7 pairs of different coloured flip flops from Peacocks. I’d never been happier. Flips flops are the answer!

Within 30 mins, i was in a taxi and on my way home. I’m currently relxing in the upstairs study, catching up on my emails, chitty chatting with my Daddy, who LOVES ‘Loverboy’ (not sexually…I mean, like a son.) I feel chillaxed, i’ve caught up on my correspondants, i’ve auditoned for another show and i’m feeling ontop of this world! I love being back home!!! I feel marvellous! I’ve called Pete and he’s being an absolute darling. He turely loves me deeply, more than i could have ever imagined!!I’m really lucky to have him. I’ve completely  lucked out with this one and i haven’t even messed it up yet! (THANKYOU CUPID. WOOHOO!) I’m finally dating someone i deserve to be with! We’re perfectly similar and perfectly different. We love being happy and we love being loved. He’s romantic and kind and someone i can fall back on with a trust of giggles. We’ve come from the same kind of background. We went to the same school. We have the same believes and i love his family! Everyday i thank cupid, for him. After what i’ve been through with boys..(*Flashback* of being thrown around a room in LA, in an orange top reading ‘Never judge a girl by her t-shirt,’ that had faded. Then remembering, standing cold and alone on a dark New York street after being promised the world and dumped, with no place to sleep. I remember walking in on one of my first boyfriends whilst he was letting another girl naked straddle him, then i had that recent that whole *user drama* with Jonny…a boy who took everything from me, lied and tried to batter me down emotionally.)

 I’ve finally found my saviour, the boy who will be good to me and love me forever and all i have to do in return, is love him back. (OMG..i’m actually filling up. lol) We first met as kids at school…our story that i will one day tell you…is a miracle. I mean imagine looking at someone at 11 years old and not knowing that that *someone* was going to be your future husband, in decades to come! Amazing! #everythinghappensforareason

OMG today i have been pretty much hounded by men ALL day. I don’t know what it is about me, but there is certainly something in The Wunna, that gets the engines of all men a going. It actually gets a bit exhausting, if i’m honest. I mean i don’t mind the men that saunter up to me and do the whole ‘aww you’re beautiful and just had to tell you,’ thing. I find that charming and polite. Plus, i’m northen, so therefore have a bit of the *cheek* in me, so i don’t mind a bit of merry banter about my boobies or looks, or wiggle in my walk. However saying that, when you’re a Glamour Puss and now having to plan your routes around London, simply so you can walk out of your own appartment and strutt to your local corner shop, or supermarket in peace, without being harassed by a bundle of (what i call) ‘The Pervies,’ you know you need to come up with a better plan.

I’mt aking the long routes around, simply to avoid putting myself in a positon where perverts will prey on me. It takes me approximately 15 mintues to walk to my local shop that is 2 minutes away and even then on the wuiet route, i’m honked at by lorry drives, workmen, with hang out their trucks and *holla.* Infact today i’ve had 3 different middle eastern men, pull their car up to me, wind down their window and TELL me to GET INTO their car for money and i’ve not only been glared at, but grabbed by school boys, winked at by passersby, perved on my undesirables, and had two giant handful of men say the most disgusting things to me, and my vagina..without consent. MY vagina hates that! It makes her cry! (And not in a dirty way, you pervs!) What are you thinking!!!! STOP TAKING ‘UP MY SKIRT’ PICTURES! OMG! Twice today in London. Nice.

I can’t even get into a taxi now, without the guy asking me to pull my top up, or walk on a tube, without a man trying to touch my bum. All girls go through this and i don’t think it’s fair. By all means look and admire and by all means, walk up to a girl and tell her that she’s gorgeous, beautiful, or delicious…YET please do try to STOP at that, wish her a wonderful day and keep it clean! Respect is everything! I hate how some men think they can seriously say whatever they want to a women and it be okay!

I was in a jeans and a t-shirt today and had a guy tell me that i brought it all on myself, wearing such attire. What?  I yelled at him and called him ugly, after he told me where he was intending to poke part of his revolting anatomy. Disgusting! This is why i enjoy being surrounded by people or another person. When i’m on my own, i pretty much feed myself to the lions. I can’t believe that one guy, from Somalia, actually pulled up on a busy road and tried to show me his penis. Have a little respect for yourself and then we girls will respect you. It doesn’t matter, what a girl looks like, acts like, dresses like or does. Learn to be polite, delicious and delightful and she will love you back. Oh and girls don’t buy the mumbo jumbo that men feed you when they tell you ‘it’s your fault’ for dressing a certain way, or acting a certain way! It’s the only line they know and well men always try to push the blame. They need to learn some self control. You don’t see girls walking around the streets or hanging out of their cars , telling a guy to pull his pants down and show us what his willy looks like, simply because he’s jogging and shirtless.

In my real life…i actually do not know any boys of the pervy sort, so i’m always shocked when men are like that with me. Dont get me wrong, I don’t mind the attention…yet the disrespect i hate! I think i need to educate young boys, so they grow into decent men. Then educate girls to make sure they don’t let ’pervies’ treat them that way! Why are men always confused when it comes to knowing how to treat women? Just go with ‘well’ and we will probably like you.

Wazza claimed yesterday that, if i were to have a baby, it would have to be a boy, and simply because he cannot IMAGINE another ‘Chrissie Wunna’ on this earth. The planet not only isn’t ready for one, but it cannot yet handle another. It would explode out of my vagina and into the world screaming for attention. Therefore apparently a nice, quiet boy would suffice. Hopefully, it will inherit more of it’s fathers traits! I can’t believe it’s JULY!

So today’s my delicious day off and i can’t for the life of me move one single muscle, after my horrendous massages from the evil, nazi, chinese bitch yesterday, with the apparent ‘healing hands.’  OMG, i woke up on my back and happy, but then realized that not only was I unable to move, but my back actually felt like a real life massive much, BRUISE! That whore! However, being the Ultimate Glamour Puss, dipped in a juicy side of ‘Chrissie Wunna,’ i didn’t let it get me down. I don’t let anything get in my way of being a ‘darling.’ I forced myself up, grabbed my comfort blanket (which is my pink Black Berry) congratulated @GaryPonty for passing his driving test and then edged out of bed, pouting and hair tossing, into my *time machine* bathroom, so i could groom for the day. I staggered in a cripple, and leapt out a Kitty cat! Now, i feel AMAZING! [Shimmie here...like a maniac.] Chinese massaging ladies may take my back bone, yet she can’t take my ‘ooh laa.’ (The cheeky swine as also emailed me, to see if I would actually write a little paragraph about her massage therapy clinic, and ramble on about my experience and how much i loved it! Haha…the fact that i kind of already have does make me chuckle! However, being the non-two faced Glamour Puss that I am, i emailed her a lovely write up! I actually think it’s hilarious, because firstly it was dripping with sarcasm, and well if there are any Wunna fans in her store a reading it, they will 100% understand my every piece of deliciously happy PAIN. Plus, it’ll make more people go to her rubbish clinic and therefore go through the same ‘beat you up to pan pipes’ that i went through…which…and because i’m a twat, find very funny!)

This is an example of what she wanted me to write : ‘I had a very stiff shoulder & lower back pain. I came to try Chinese Medicine and after acupuncture, and a half hour massage, with the doctor’s magic hands, the pain is now gone and i feel back to new!’ I read it and it simply made me piss myself laughing. I wanted to add on the end of her written example, ‘.…but now i am dead. Hurrah!’ The poor lady was mildly sweet before i let her touch me, but i feel so scarred from her healing hands of sin, that i don’t really think i could ever let anyone touch me again. EVER! My back is a fucking BRUISE! All i remember seeing is her tiny, pale perfectly gentle feet, from the hole in the massage table that my *far too glamourous* face was WEDGED into! I hate being wedged into anything. It’s just wrong. The bottom half of her was calm and loving, but the top half of her was IN-FRICKING-SANE! Do not marry an oriental bird, unless you have bought her via mail order. (Those ones have been beaten and made to love any nice english man. The ones with their own mind, are MENTAL!) Note: If you’re Loverboy, don’t read that part. You can marry me, i’m delicious…with boobs.

Okay last night, i was exhausted, so after a 3 hour nap, and a cosy read through almost 40 gossip magazines in bed, ( I love a lazy day when you’ve done all your work and you can lounge around with no face on, and hang your boobs up to dry for the rest of the day,) i decided to have a major panic attack. Yes! Three cheers. Now, i’m a kitty cat that is highly commitment phobe. Massively. There is something in me that needs to feel free and at all times…I’m independant, strong and ‘party party,’ so all of a sudden realizing that i’m now in a position where i have commited to pretty much EVERYTHING whole heartedly, terrified me!

I was talking to Loverboy on the phone, who i love, miss and enjoy. He can’t seem to function when i’m not there. He even said, he felt so sad because i was so far away, and didn’t know what to do with himself. (Aww.)  I miss him too. Anyway, he went appartement hunting for us yesterday and i’m not sure what happened, but he ended up feeling all confused and overwhelmed. He’s sort of turning from boy to man and overnight…( i tend to have that affect on ‘Handsomes,’) and well i guess we’re now maybe getting a house? Pete is seriously bad at commiting to a decision because he fears that it might not be the correct one. Anyway, we talked, had a luahg, had a giggle and a love…then when we wished each other good bye, i laid on my bed and realized that I was even growing up and commiting to almost everything. I’ve gone from irresponsible ‘party party’ to signing up longterm to a life, a house, a man, a career and anything else i can think of! Although, i’m extremely happy…i am absolutely terrified. However, i think it’s okay to be absolutely terrified at times. Often taking that big step from little girl, to  being grown up is a mind F***. I’m going through that overwhelming ‘I’m not Peter pan’ anymore phase of life…I had a mild panic attack, but then Wazza called me and assured me that I was a prize idiot who always lands on her feet, therefore i really had nothing to worry about. He also assured me that he’s still on occasion a moron…due to the fact that he commands people to show little girls, things that little girls should never been seeing. It’s really more funny, than evil. It was just the fact that he said, ‘OMG Chrissie it was hilarious…the camera went back to them and they were SCREAMING, after 600 perverts had told them to *lez up.* Perverts are disgusting. They really do make me have a rather low opinion of men. Little girls are angels who need to be guided…and I LOVE ALL little girls…and infact have opened their eyes to a whole world that they would never have known about. Now that they know, they are wiser and won’t fal into the same ridiculous traps. Tell your stories, without shame. It’s amazing what people actually pick up from them and learn! I get a bundle of mail a day from people all over the world, who have been accidenatlly inspired by me , or have picked up on something i didn’t even realize they would relate to. I’m living my life with you…so feel free to share your life with me also! I have a distinct interest in people, all people and what makes them tick. I’m all ears! So tell me your stories!

Other than that, i have nothign to report except, i’m so excited to have a day off, and i’m going to treat myself to a pedicure. I’m quite terrified, after my *treat* yesterday. However you can’t go wrong with a foot rub, and nail paint. It makes me feel womanly. I’ve also had a little 7 year old boy, randomly tug me and say, ‘Why do people fall in love?’ How interesting, that he would pick up on ‘love’ at such a young age. I mean, honestly why DO people meet someone across a crowded room, and feel pulled towards them emotionally, to the point where they can’t imagine living their life without them? It’s magical and can’t really be explained. I enjoy the feeling of being in love. I think this world needs to be more open about it. There’s plenty of it happening all around us…yet it’s so well disguised that it wrongly makes people believe that it does not even exist! IT DOES!! Look around you more closely. More people love each other than hate each other. More people want to be loved than don’t. If more people opened up about it and spread it…(like herpes)…this world would be a happier place.

My back kills (LMAO) and this cyber cafe chair smeels like armpits! I have to be in bed my 9.30pm tonight for a 4am wake up call tomorrow morning. So i have to go and make the most of y day. I love you kittens. *Wiggle-giggle-walk!*