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Okay, so about 2 hours ago i got back from my Bank Holiday afternoon of goulash with Loverboy and his family. Again lots of love, laughter, cuddling and telling Pete off for looking at ‘the blond chick on Countdown’s’ bum. He enjoys it when i get jealous…but only because he hasn’t seen me get REALLY jealous. Yippee! He shut me up with cookies and compliments. I shut him up with a simple glare. *Sizzle.*

Now, silly me believes that since it’s Bank Holiday and i have nothing to do now my day of revelry is over…I should venture online and have a bit of a Facebook chatty with good old friends ( that i don’t know) and fans.

 I chose this option over hoovering. My mother bought me a pink ‘Henry’ (a ‘Hetty’ or something?) Oddly and after i tried to meanly stare it down, it became my ally and simply because it seemed to be wearing the same outfit as me? Anyway yeah…i WRONGLY chose to not hoover, after pronising people that i would hoover and instead fed my hot little self to the scary ‘Wolves’ on Facebook chat. The ‘Wolves’ are those that are not my gays, not my teenage chick fans, not my real friends, or even decent human beings and just plain old dodgey ‘not even delicious’ perverts. Lovely! Lovely! (I should’ve fucking hoovered.)

So whilst you’re all having your Bank Holiday dinners or nursing your hangovers, watching rubbish movies or wishing you had hoovered…I…the Ultimate Puss of Glamour much have been forced to cyber shout at pervies. I’m pregnant, homronal, in heels.. so be terrified. (Just having a Vimto sip and wondering why i’m getting people confused with real life midgets that i know?)

So one guy, thought he’d introduce himself to me as my ‘biggest fan.’ Good move. Massaging the ego, will always get my attention. HOWEVER, within 3  sentences he had asked me if i was a porn star, told me he was German and then wanted to know what i liked sexually, whilst informing me that he enjoyed having a girl shove things in his anal passage. ERM…? Helllo? A good old ‘Hi, I loved you on BBF’ would have sufficed.  I mean, I’m the most open minded floozey you’ll ever meet and even i’m wanting to gnaw my own arm off! I thought he actually adored me…but he was really just all boner. Story of my goddamn LIFE! *Step aside darling…this bitch has more important genitals to tend to.*

Then to top it all off, some guy named ‘Matteo’ kept trying to force me to go on webcam and see his willy. All of this AFTER i told him i was PREGNANT!!! Now, surely, if  a chica, no matter how hot, tells you she’s ‘with child’ and has a gorgeous boy of ‘Lover,’ you say ‘Congratulations’ or talk about them behind their back, right? YOU don’t immediately go for the ‘hey..you MUST see my penis on webcam right now. You’ll love it.’ I’m currently ‘Frigid, preggo, Chrissie’ i don’t want to see your willy and i will only see a willy if it has been forwarded to me via one of my gay friends and he needs me to approve it. (Thankyou Mikey Kardashian.)

I infact LOVE how a straight man can try to show me his *meat stick* online and i’ll curse him down, like he’s some kind of dodgey weirdo. Yet if one of my darling gays does it, it’s totally acceptable. ‘Mikey Kardash’ opened his FB chat conversation to me with a ‘DO ME IN THE ASS!‘ Followed by a *heart* in pink and i loved it. He was all excited about the fact that i’m having a baby and i was all excited about telling him that i had a *bump.* Unfortunately it’s in an odd stage where it simply looks like a beer belly. I’m an ‘all or nothing’ girl. Give me huge bumpage or not at all. Beer belly. DISGUSTING! If i didn’t love myself so much, i’d put me on a loser list, whilst throwing salad at my hips.

Funnily enough and after i had explained how i had gotten preggo. I love having to explain it all to my gays. They get all confused by the ‘birds and the bees’ and truely believe that i bought my current *bump* from Christian Dior or something? (‘But does it come with a satchel?’) Mikey actually asked me if i was going to be a ‘milk maid for random kinky men’ when i was a few months more pregnant? It really doesn’t get better than that. I adore him. I can’t help it. (‘Hey Chrissie hell called…they want you back.’)

Oh god. I’ve done it again! Okay…Before i began distracting myself with my mindless rubbish rambling, i did want to tell you that yes…if a pervy *straight* nags me to see his online *todger*…i just delete him from my friends list within seconds. They make it easy on me. I mean why is ‘online willy sighting’ a must? It’s not sexy even when i’m wasted. TUCK IT IN! I have family friends asking me about the weather and my baby, then in *box 4* to the left, i have mexican perverts demanding that i see their ‘taco.’ This is my life. This is what i have to go through on a daily. No wonder i’m hibernating in Yorkshire. You’ve made me scared of penis. Eww much. Like how DARE you!

However, i do have a double standard. (Ofcourse…ofcourse. There is a RIGHT time for a bit of ‘hey HEY hey.’) When my Glamour Puss gay Mikey states that a gentleman has sent him a cyberland picture of his willy, in order to *woo* him…(who said romance was dead) and it looks a bit small.. ‘take a look.’ I find myself pregnant, glaring at my computer screen, with my head tilted to the left a little, in order to work out why the willy part was white, but the body part was black? (I should’ve just hoovered.)

Men are so different to women. It’s part of girl culture to tease and torment. When i say this, i only mean be flirty and giggly and fun…with a wink of *ooh,* not a ‘hey look at my big vagina.’ ( I learnt this lesson the hard way. )Yet when pervy straight MEN do their complete WRONG version of this, it’s weird, gross and sort of unmanly. We don’t want to see your cyber willies EVER…unless you have managed to dress it up as a Santa, taught it to sing Christmas carols and made it mail us presents from distant lands.

Yet on a good note, it hasn’t all been bad. A lovely gent named ‘Quincy’ sent me this message:

‘Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love. Have a blessed day!’

 Quincy saves the day. Thank GOD for him! Pants on and everything! [Applaud here.]

Morning my hunky hots of hero…i’ve been up, down, round and around that i haven’t really had tiem to blog. (Code for ‘couldn’t be arsed, because fun came first.’) If you’re not having a laugh then you might aswell be dead. Therefoer if you have wasted your Bank Holiday weekend on crying over  ‘not worth it’s,’ or being too scared to tip toe into fun…place on those naughty knickeroos and gallop through the fields of joydom. (I’m not on drugs…i’m simply mentally ill today. Let me be. Shit…i forgot to sound sexy…and i mean, do it naked on horseback?)

Wunna land is all about love, life, playfulness and humour. Be it at the expense of others? I don’t care. Just commit to your pokery and in heels. Life is far to short for being bored in flat shoes. I’m preggo and i still manage on occasion to waltz around in 9 inchers, when i’m not feeling grumbly. 9yet i’m not talking about shoes. *Wink-pout* Infact, wait that’s gross? Like i’m walking around with my random Wunna willy conquests sewn onto my clothes like trophies? I should try that. That’s what you get for being raised my a child minded.

As you can see, i’m feeling fun, frilly, flirty, but can only see out of one eye. For some odd reason, i’ve never been happier in life. I had one of those moments where i sat on my bed looking up like a *whack job* with this warmth pulsating through my body. It was happiness. Y’know that little thing that every person in this entire world is searching for. Unfortunately we take horrific detours to try and achieves such a warmth. Be it drugs, drink, sex, or fame. At least they’re the sexy ways to try and detour your way to it…(yet before you all start, i’m not approving of them.) Some people shortcut their way to happiness via obsessive cleaning (fucking weirdos) or abusing their spouse. (Okay on occasions.) Right now in my life, everything is perfect and i can’t even believe it. I’ve never felt that warmth for this long. The good thing about me is i’m foolish, therefore once i feel ‘whole’ i want to share my wholeness and smear all over the nation with love…like herpes. The bad thing about sharing is that you end up with an empty fuel tank. But luckily filling my ‘whole’ up isn’t too difficult.

I feel all naughty today,which is good. I’m best when i’m naughty. But I will tell you that i’m sad that Coolio has left Big Brother! OMG…i love him when he’s annoying. Yet now i hate Nadia. Her tantrums are sooo *sweat patchy.* No chick i know, *glows* in such a manner.

So on Saturday, my Mum, brother and I took a tiny trip to London. I loved it ebcause i never get to go on trips to London with other people. It made the advnture way more exciting. Plus, i felt no pressure. I didn’t have an audition, or a work meeting to tend to. i didn’t have a deadline or an awful boy to try and make up with. I just had my family…(apart from my little Daddio) and fun.

We arrived early, i sorted out my appartment drama. (I now no longer have my North London, appartmeny finally and i’m soo happy that that little burdens been lifted. I’ve been having to pay for it for the whole time i haven’t been living in it and well, i’mr ather spaz my money on lip gloss and booze for others.) I am now freee and well Chrissie Wunna LOVES the feeling of freedom. I’m all skin to the wind baby!

To clebrate we thpught we ‘d have agander around the old smoke, so we taxi’ed it to Leicester square and got a quick lunch at TGI’s. Awesome time. Perfect service, hto summers day and bubbles flying through the air. We really bonded as a family. My mum and brother were so happy and well that makes me happy.

Then we did what all good folk do and shop. We bought everything our heart desired and watched a lunatic on a bucking bronco. (If i wan’t preggo, i would’ve had a go. I can only do it drunk.) We followed that up by being tourists..which i love. Visiting London is GREAT. Living there (for me)is horrific. I claimed i moved there in order to fight for my career. Bull shit. Once i got there all i did was spend sooo much money on going out every night, and getting drunk. I got soo drunk that i’d wake up in my own sick, almost every monring.

The good hting about that is that i met loads of you, and built up my London reputation. Woohoo! (London is fun when you’ve just come off a reality show, because you get everything fore FREE.) The bad thing is i let a boy be awful to me…so i pretty much had to leave, in order to find my happy. Which i have ten times over now! Mwaha. IN YOUR FACE!)

London was a great time with the family…i was happy. Then i foudn myself stood next to takeway cripsy pork my Ku Bar and left immediately via train back to Yorkshire. We sat back on the train feeling on top of the world…with midget gems. The conductor recognised me from ‘somewhere.’ I never know what to say when peopel ask me ‘where,’ because with my track record of virginal good behaviour..it could’ve been anywhere??? *Giggles.*

Sunday was lovely. I spent it with the Loverboys family…The Wattis Family. I usually go to their Sunday dinner, (all decent people love a family Sunday dinner) and share love, laughter and Wunan time over meat, ‘tatoes and Yorskhire puddings. They had a house full and well it’s just nice to be part of Loverboys family. They make me happy. We’ve both been raised exceedingly well and it just finally feels good to have been blessed (ABOUT TIME CUPID) with such a decent ‘handsome.’ Pete and i are getting on really well right now. We’re the perfect mix of everything. Loving, fun, silly, but romantic. I’m having a blast. (He says he likes me today ebcause i’m flirty. Hmm..? Surely he shouldn’t like that too much. Floozies like me will flirt our way into any bit of trouble, simply for the sake of humour and end up in the bed sheets of sinners at ten to two.)

But anyway enough abouyt my shit life. Today is BANK HOLIDAY and if you have slacke di toff with nothingness, then at LEAST have a drink…even just one? Or if drinking ain’t your think..grab a flute and folk dance to the joyous sounds of your…life? Just have fun, make fun, live fun. Kiss everything better and end it in a wink.

It’s Monday, work is replaced by working ‘it.’ I have to go..i’v eleft my hair tongs on somewhere in the house and they’re burning domestic pets. Oops.

Sooo emergency blog to tell you that BBF Flic is currently on my telly, taking part in the show ‘Dinner Date.’

As you know, i was mildy grumbly, and all *ooh* maybe *arrgh*…yet as soon as i saw my little Flicstar upon my little box of telly (and i do have a medium sized telly, not a ginormous one… I spend my money on far superior things like hookers, cocktails and lipgloss,) i actually perked right up! I jumped with with an ‘ohh la laa’ and filled to the brimmage with gleedom!

Now,when i was in the BBF house…behind the scenes and all that…My two best friends in that pad of pink, were both Samuel and Flic. (The others, apart from say Ola and Layla, who i thought were funny…i regarded as ‘blah.’) Flic, sam and I were on the same wave length, knew how to have fun, knew what we stood for, who we were and therefore formed some kind of alliance. (When you’re on a reality show of that nature…you need to find your closest buds fast and because you need to remain sane!) When i left the mansion…i remember everyone around me in tears of shockeroo. We all were. Flic never cries and even she broke down a wee bit because we’d all had this AMAZING time.

Watching my telly box, made me realize how much i’ve missed Flic. It was soooo delicious to see her and her gorgeous (hate her for it) hair. (She actually does loads of telly and whenever i see her, i begin texting away.) Yet as well as noticing how absolutely gorgeous she is…i also noticed how FLIC gets to be posh, and go on shows where men who want to date her are at her beck and call. Yet I…Miss.Chrissie Wunna, get offered all the party/whorey jobs and well i’m currently on Channel 5′s ‘Sex lessons’ show…telling the nation why they shouldn’t sleep with cauliflowered willied men. There’s something wrong here? HAHAHA. I get appluaded for just being a fuck up and she gets applauded for doing everything right and with an air of dignity! I want to be her!

But nonetheless..i love both Sammie and Flic, far too much for my own good. Therefore seeing her on my telly always brings a smile to my face, that has stretched across from a time ago where we were trapped in a pretty pink mansion! We had some AMAZING times. (I’m just pissing myself now, at how fun out time actually it was!)

It’s the smallest things that can make a human happy…and that gorgeous bitch of poshness made my day! (Even though she sometimes calls me a burmese whore.)

I enjoy a text i recieved from @GaryPonty on this matter :

‘Flic is such a lady. She romances over dinner and YOU romance pissed up, humpy rumpy down country lanes, then throw up by a skip. It’s what makes you special. I adore you. Ur Miss.Broken Bridge 2010.’

God, i’ve been hideious…but let me tell you..i’ve loved every waking moment of it. Live YOUR life! Love it! I’ve laughed all the way. The decades go by sooo mush faster than you think. I only have 7 decades left on this dodgey earth and that’s if i live until i’m 100 years old..God help me.  ( I hope i die with my face in a martini.) Remember that! Do not waste any time and treasure each moment you have!

Be you rich, poor, posh, or playful..gay, straight…or weird…get into that push up bra and [swear here] LIVE!!

My eyes are sooo stingy! They feel like they’ve been poked repeatedly by hard finger tipped apes, in thongs. OUUUUCH! *Sad face!* I’m super dooper hormonal right now (when you’re preggo this shit happens.) Therefore instead of getting my monthly perios, instead i get weepy, angry, then more weepy. It’s fun…if you’re INSANE!!

Last night, i cried at Big Brother, adverts, had flashbacks of my past 9good and bad)…cried that all of them too. Decided no-one adored me enough, wallowed in self pity (oh the joys,) then got mad at myself and insanely STRESSED with all my book drama, to finally scream, moan and angry text people, before Thursday Aug 26th ended and i feel asleep. Yipppee! If i was drinking, a vodka-bitter lemon would have sorted all that out. Do not underestimate the powers of a tipple. Ofcourse going crazy with your booze intake will not only make you ever so sad, when you find yourself with your panties by your ankles, saying the Lord’s Prayer to Mr. Regret and his hot shirtless friend. (I’ve learnt this lesson. It’s not fun.) But a little sipperoo, when needed is better than filling up with negativity, (I can’t drink, so therefore i’m angry! )

For some reason last night, i thought the book was going to go all wrong. I’m dead insecure right now and need to behandled with kitten gloves. Loverboy’s been working a great deal this week, so i’ve had to wing life on my own. Dangerous! I’ve become so used to having him around, that when he is no longer available, i started panicking and searching around for a life jacket!

I thought my agents were wanting me to write my whole entire book in long, boring ‘no-one will read it like that’ autobiography form. Which is basically what i DON’T want! I want it to be in diary entrie form, memoir form and i have no problmes putting it together like that in order for the entires to make sense. Like the best of my blogs. However, i just DON’T WANT and WILL NOT…do it like an ordinary book. The cutesness of it, is that it’s in diary form, that’s been cut down to 40,00-60,000 words.

Due to my difficultness, i am now meeting the book kittens at 12 noon on Thursday in Manchester for a discussion. I’ve always been a girl that knows what she wants. I’ve never wavered. So hopefully, i’ll beable to do things my way. I just have a gut feeling, a good one and i think for the first time, i actually know what i’m doing..after always having to follow someone else’s formula and watching it fail. But yes, it’ll all get sorted and yes…it WILL be in short, fun, humourous diary form, in book format! (I am stressed out.)I don’t want it to be the same everything else. I want it to be new. Plus, the book is based on my blog, which is based on my life. Wazza and I came up with it all and made it popular (accidentally) and by ourselves….so we must have been doing something right. I just don’t want people to come on board and change everything.

Another thing that getting my *nibblies* all stressed is the fact that i’m getting fatter. Yes, i’m pregnant and that is going to happen. However, i’ve never really had to battle the bulge as such in life, therfore it’s quite a bizarre thing to get your head around. It definitely does a number on your head and i finalyl know what it’s like to maybe be a bit less body confident that normal. It’s not that i’m getting fat that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that i’m just giving up and LETTING myself get fat that’s annoying me. I’m not used to a *surrender.* So i’m mildy going insanely mentally ill. Woohoo! (If i was less stubborn. I’d get less far! Remember that dollies.)

I do actually feel a lot better, after my big cry last night. I feel relieved, but have now ended up with some dodgey headache. I’m spending the whole day shopping at Meadowhall, simply to take my mind of things. I’m the Queen of fun and laughter, so this isn’t ME! If i just enjoy my life…and love it, i’ll bounce back. (Why am i getting a *Flashback* of my es-hubby sat on our old sofa, in nothing but a cowboy hat and boots, doing a sad face ebcause i wouldn’t sleep with him? I loved that time in my life. Yet i’m kinda glad it’s over. Note: i did sleep with him in the end, and because his sad face made him look sooo cute…sort of like an unloved, naked…cowboy?)

I need to call Pete and apologise for being a bitcheroo to him last night. I hate it when he’s not around because i feel emotionally abandoned. Luckily, it’s nothing a long shopping trip can’t handle. I just need to treat myself. Retail therapy ALL THE WAAY! I need ot get my pretty self back to ‘positive’ and let the good times start a rolling. (I’m even in pink jogging bottoms today..with heels and diamond earrings, and an ‘I *heart* Me’ tank top. If you see me at Meadowhall, please remember…kitten gloves. I’m fragile! lol)

Just had a quiet word with myself and realized that i’m Greatness…so alls good now. I’m forever chipper and as good as can be! If i’m honest i’ve had a little bit of friend therapy, from my spiritual life coach again. I’m being told that whenever everything is almost fairytale ‘too good to be true’ in my world, i try and plant problems out of fear and insecurity. Right now, i have absolutely nothing wrong. I have a career on it’s way up, a dream that’s right this second being materialized. I have the most perfect boy of ‘lover lover’ who wants to spend the rest of his life with me and more importantly i have the greatest gift that any girl coul ever have a coming…and that’s my baby.

Having nothign worng in my life, freaks me out! I get scared and think the good lord of fuckery is gonna put a spanner in the works and turn my carriage back into a pumpkin. Now, i’m not delusional. I know that nothing lasts forever and i know where i am right now in life. I’ve been playing a very patient game and well now that it’s all being giving the *green light* for the first time, in a longtime…i’m actually a bit scared. I just can’t believe my luck and i don’t mean just career wise, i mean with my love life and home life and world. It’s truely from the bottom of my heart nothing short of magical. It’s so wonderful that it’s finally simple and when you keep things simple…everything just seems to slot into place with a greater ease.

 I want everyone to feel the way i feel and i want all of my kittens to have a pure dream come true. I just told my life coach that i was scared that my book wouldn’t sell and well, all she said was ‘everyone loves a true story.’ I’m gonna go with that because it just makes me feel better and well i need to stop being insecure! My tan is far too *feist-a-lot* to be all humble and thumby. I need to *strut* and work this like a Queen.

Anyway, that’s all i needed to report, as i do need to get ready. I have hanging out with Petey to tend to and right now, i look like Jackie Chan…and not even in drag!

I’ve also been having a bit of a giggle with Google. I haven’t Googled myself in ages and well teh things that the world come up with are genius! (Which reminds me to telltyou that Wazza is a life-saving, Kebab eating Wizard of Wunnage!)

I’m on some reality show celeb (waay down the list of glory) sites, some ‘emo-love’ site, and a site that has apparently placed my actual back and forth Twitter conversation with someone called Jordan Kingsley, yet it’s had to be removed because i’m not a pornstar. (‘note: @chrissiewunna is not a pornstar so we can’t show their tweets.’)

This whole pornstar thing humours me…because men just want me to be one and can’t face the fact that i’m not. There’s no ‘Wunna does Wisconsin’ tape. I promise you i am not double penetrating anything for a couple of quid, in a warehouse decorated like a dungeon. I’m simply a model, who writes a blog, who lived in LA, married a movie star, is now preggo and had a stint on a reality show, that included Paris Hiltons, then another one that made me talk about sex. (On Michael’s Wiki thing, in the place where he used to shun my existance, he now puts up that i’m his ‘spouse’ [in brackets] ‘divorced.’)

I’ve really come around from my past of sinning to being all happy, good, clean and dollfiied and i believe that i should be rewarded for that! Right now, i’m a decent role model.. there should be shrines of me and everything!

All the rest of the Googling was good, so it’s pointless me writing about it. I loe that i thought my new Twitter friends website was ‘loveyourARABS.com’ It actually read ‘loveyourabs.’

I adore you all and because you’re all sexy!

Woke up this morning feeling half full, completely stressed and like everyone was doing better than me. (Don’t you just hate those days.) My head ached, with ‘yadda-yadda’s’ and i had so many ‘to do’s’ that it all just seemed to be eating away at my kitty cat being. I laid in my white sheets and stared at my ceiling. Then i leapt out of bed, had two Weetabix and with far too much fibre in my system, attempted to do a poo, whilst singing Michael Jacksons, ‘Billie Jean.’ Have you ever tried that? It’s almost impossible.

I have book drama, (i’m wanting to keep it in diary form and not in written out book form.) Top that off with La love life drama, people booking me.. but not confirming the dates and well i just don’t know whether i’m coming or going. Plus i have shoots to tend to and preferably before i get heafty! I need dates! It’s just too much for me to handle and well it’s the stray ends that i’m finding hard to knot together.

Just when i thought all was about to crumble…Wazza has a banter with me and perks me back to my normal kitten like self. We’ve got a massive project to try and sort out and i just can’t do it without him. Other are proving to be no help and well without him, i’d go insane! (He hasn’t actually abused me this morning? Hmm…he must be hungover?)

I’m enjoying the fact that just because i’m up early the FB pervs feel as though they have special *one on one* time with me. NO! If i’m up this early, it’s obviously because i have to work, so you can save your ‘pussy’ and ‘i want it’ banter for a afr less stressed Doll of Glamour! I’e also had Hot Matty in LA ask me to alias him as the ‘Big dicked italian.’ Erm..why? Surely ‘Hot Matty’ would suffice? He claims that if i don’t he has ‘big dicked attorneys’...I just *yawned* at his behaviour…like attorney’s don’t love me and all of this at 9.41am? Well in LA it’s more like 11.41am or something…so i’ll let himoff for being drunk. (God, i’m sooo need the toilet AGAIN!!)

Last night, Harriet & I decided we were going to figure out life and in the process destory things. I can’t really tell you what we were talking about, (coz everyone will know that we’re bitches)  but we do want to save the Barbie’s of the world or simply question them?

Not sure what happened but we got onto killing people with poisoned apples or spindle needle pricks? (She wanted ot keep it fairytale.) I don’t like people bleeding, and informed her of my concern. She therefore questioned my priorites in life, claiming that she enjoys how i could poison someone to DEATH, but simply can’t give them a little pin prick. (I’ve had too many pricks in my life, to enjoy them anymore.) I pointed out that she would rather poison apple someone than actually just do a simple drink with them. Lol. (Oh and note: I went with ‘apple’ simply because it kinda sounded like a healthy option.)

My Wunnarettes are getting their G.C.S.E resulys today. I thought that everyone had already got them? However anyhow, i guess my kittens, are getting theirs fashionably late! They reminded me that i told them that ‘you don’t need G.C.S.E’s in Hollywood.’ Oopsie! But really honestly…if you go…you don’t! (Just for the record, i got ace G.C.S.E’s. I don’t know why you swines find that so hard ot believe? But i like really actually did much!)

I’m having a bit of a ‘can’t be arsed’ day, yet it’s fine as i’ll just take it out of Pete. My tan looks amazing…everyone get a Fake Bake spray tan…they are delicious. For some reason, i’m hormonal bad at Loverboy, but i don’t quite know why? And i’m just finding all my book stuff…stressful. It’s hard when you can’t actually run away from something. I mean that’s my usual form of attack. *Mess it up, then run for the hills.* (That’s a half lie… don’t run.)

I think, i’m just having a bit of a low day and i need gifts in order to cheer me up. Expensive ones. I’m refusing to wear tartan shoes. I eahc and every Wunan fan of this world. Men are asking to ‘tuck me in’ and I’m never going into ‘The Broken Bridge’ in Ponty again…with sight.

‘Lashes’ is texting. ‘Latin lover’ is trying to re-love and i’m happily pregnant to Loverboy in Pontefract. Welcome to my life! *grabs poisoned appled-licks it.*

On a merrier note…i’m getting so many lovely lovely messages from you girls of the world. I LOVE YOU!!!

Finally had my day of pamper, due to my ‘book drama’ stressio. All that about me being all brave and mighty..just forget. I’m back to panicked and stressed. I didn’t sleep a fricking wink, all night and even found myself accidentally frowning, without realizing! That’s HOW MANY wrinkles!?! Like i said to Wazza, i thought a mani/pedi, followed by a Fake Bake spray tan, would ease the *fuzz* in my head. All it did was make me stress in the perfect shade of mahogany. I’m actually far too dark…and that’s just the way i like it. I look like i’m black…with maybe a bit of asian in me. I could stand by cherry wood furniture and you’d struggle to find me..if i didn’t have this beautifully, annoying, screechy voice (not vagina) of pain. (‘Blah, blah, blah, ya ya yaaa. I’m Chrissie Wunna…look at me…blah blah.’) As you can see…i’m not in the greatest of moods. I’m in a mood that only rum can fix. However, obviously, i am unable to pirate guzzle rum right now, so therefore i must tend to being a stress head of a …what’s the word? Oh yeah…..BITCHEROO. (I’m currently enjoying and expressing my trust issues with @Wazza. We’re discussing, whether Pete loves me more than his ex.)

Last night was great…i’m totally wanting to breast feed the horny twosome known as ‘Jedward.’ I’m a cougar in training, and have milk laiden boobies. They’d make decent practice for my later years…and my upcoming bambino. I am turned on by their utter stupidity. Which i’m finding bizarre, because usually ‘stupid shit’ gnaws away at me. However, they remind me of silliness…and if i love anything…it’s good old fashioned silliness….sexually.

Got my nails done today, with a dollop of orange/red polish. I ADORE a good pedicure and well there’s nothing like a hot man from the orient, rubbing upon my tiny feet, as I relax back in my giant massage chair, drinking cups of tea. The lady owner of the salon loved me and made every moment a delicately lovely BIG FUSS, due to the fact that i was pregnant. I enjoy a big fuss over me…excpet, i’ve noticed that whenever people rub me these days…i immediately fall asleep. I’ll wake up and find my virginity gone, one of these days. *Pats her almost 4 month bump.*

Anyway the tiny asian hottie that ran the salon has given me hope. She was in a tight purple and pink tracksuit…that reminded me of russina gymnasts, that looked like it was fit for a 5 yr old. Yet the body on that woman was amazing. She had had TWO babies and was HALF the size of me. There’s life after pregnancy fat after all. I intend to be her. She then (and iwht a smile) told me to get more elasticated jeans.) ‘Hollywood nails’ in Ponty, is probably the BEST place i’ve ever been to get my nails done and simply because the service is not only sooo good, but the way they do your nails is almost PERFECT! Not a nik, not a *ouch*…but a cup of tea ot go with it. Fantastic place.

So my Fake bake spray tan appointment wasn’t until 3.15pm. I had a lot of time to kill, therefore after a corned beef, salad sandwich from Cooplands, i ventured into ‘The Broken Bridge’ in Ponty (it’s a pub it’s new and just like a Weatherspoons,) to hide for a while, until it was time to go shades darker.

I was soo bored, time never went so slow. I bought a lemon/limeade for 45p and then sat at table 40..a dark table that was central, however somehow away from everyone else and wrote on my napkin. It was filled to teh brim with chavs and O.A.P’s. That place bewteen the hours on 1.30pm-3pm is horrific. This is what i spied, whilst playing tug of war with *tick tock.* I was sooooo fucking bored, i could’ve eaten my own eyes out. When i’m bored i either just want to die, (oh how merry) or even worse…be naughty!

‘There is a muttering in the air that suggests a warm, family spirit. Yet not only hacve i never felt so ethnic, but I also feel like an outsider. I’m not like a single one of these ‘beings’ and i have no idea why?’ (Pete and I always joke about how it’s funny that we’re the only ethnic people in our village…and we date. I never really thought about race too much, until i met Pete. He’s very conscious of it. I’ve never had any trouble really. I mean, everyone loves a slanted eyed floozey, in diamonds.)

‘The Broken Bridge’ between the times that i have previously stated terrifies me. I didn’t knoe so many flat caped men in their 70′s drank and got pervy!! Topped all that of with chavtastics, (who i do find amusing, when thoroughly bored) and you have a Jeremy Kyle green room.

I mean, a lady walked by me, with blond Lady Gaga hair. She had the legs of a skinny Goddess, a skirt of the tight pencil variety ( a skirt shape that i absolutely adore this season..work those hips bitches.) But then as i worked my way up to eyeline…i noticed that she had a face like a white wicked witch of the west. Y’know what i mean…all battered, smoked and pained..but thought she was the bees knees. She had a fringe that sort of acted like a hooide and the straightest bobbed hair in the world ever. (I’m one for the big Hollywood curls. Edgy ain’t my thing.)I don’t mind the thinking she was the bee’s knees thing, yet don’t be looking like me like i’m you’re evil arch enemy. I didn’t want to steal her fat boyfriend…i just wanted his pudding. ( I am pudding mad right now. It’s an awful craving, where i will have to lie and do the ‘i’m eating for two’ line, just to beable to EAT more and get sympathy.

Infront of me was a 50 year old man, in brown and glassed, who’s eyes were hungry for bum, everytime his wife went to the loo. Yet to my left was a drunk, baby blue, with pink & white striped lout…who was far too tighted into his Polo shirt that he looked like he was about to explode. he’d have a pint then have a go on the £20 jackpot slot machine. (Kill me.) In Vegas, that’s sexy. In Pontefract…it’s just upsetting really innit! His bird, had an phone that played that ‘feat. Katy Perry’ song, where they sing, ‘…L.O.V.E’s just another word i never learnt to pronounce.’ That was the only part to the song she liked…she kept replaying in every 4.2 seconds.

To my right, a fight was taking palce, consisting of a student waiter and a big scary chav, who was yelling ‘yeah have you got a death wish or summat!?!’ This was simply because the student waiter walked infront of him, as he was trying to carry a single pint of Guinness. (I’m reading my facebook messages at the same time as writing this and i totally miss Sammie and Mikey Kardashian. We need to go out…trashy style! This *eww factor* straight boy, is also again trying to hit on me via FB chat, by calling me a ‘stuck up bitch.’ He keeps mentioning my pussy and my  pregnancy in the same sentence…hence why i’m ignoring him. ONLY MY GAYS can do that Mister! Plus, you’re only going to get away with that if you’re a HOT straight and if i’m not hormonal.)

But yeah the minutes never went slower in that place..a place where the menu reads ‘Americano (Posh name for black coffee.)’ OH LORD HAVE MERCY!!!

Luckily i found myself 15mins later, anked, with a paper thong on, and a hair net, being insanely sprayed down by a hottie with Fake Bake’s deepest and darkest ‘ooh.’ Now i think about it..it did actually make me feel better. I don’t know whether it was the nakedness that made me feel liberated from my inner kitty book stress…or the fact that i am now 10 shades browner? Either way something happened? Except i didn’t bother to take my makeup off, so the lady she spray tanned over the top of it.

I’m feeling soo exhausted right now, and just plain old boring knackered. Who knew pampering could be so draining? Yesterday i was blogging about how completely romantic my ‘handsome’ is..blah blah blah and how he adores me because i’m so smart and lovely and kind and delicious. At around 5pm-ish yesterday evening…he said he loves me because ‘the sex is so good.’ Typical really! Boys will always be boys…be they goood or be they bad. He didn’t even do a jokey laugh after he said it! He thoroughly meant it as his number one choice of reasons to love me. Yes the other options made the list…but that option was FIRST! Infact, he went into great detail about how it was the pure quality of the sex that….UGH…no wonder i’m preggo with the number of times i’ve been bent over things and rumpied. I think he put it to the top of his list because he hardly gets it from ‘frigid Preggo Chrissie,’ now. It’s like once every two weeks.  He must have had some really rubbish sex in his time…to ge so excited about my *yum yum.*(I enjoy my jab at people who have previously shagged him. )

Got to go. I love Jedward. The book is drama and i think i want a Horlicks.

Wazza’s take on my love story with Pete (after i was being all insecure and ‘but what if he doesn’t love me’ (even though i know he does…moaney…)

‘Your thinking about it all wrong..

He splits up with his girlfriend…and then by pure crazy coincidence bumps into a girl he went to school with…who he actually fancied…

and she creepily fancied HIM even though he was a child!

Next thing you know… she’s preggo!

It’s destiny!’

( I love Wazza. Lol.)

So i’ve been in a mild ‘book drama’ panic. I recieved an email via my agent, from the publishing house saying that i’m going to have to edit my book by myself…which means narrow my whole entire life down to 40,000-60,000 words, keep it ‘celeb/modelling world’ oriented and do this within a month, so i can make this years Xmas publishing list. (Erm…what?) It’s hard for me to narrow things down, when i’m a Puss that enjoys MORE, MORE, MORE!! I commit to the excess and then usually others simplify it for me and then applaud. UGH!

I’m not sure why i suddenly panicked…but i did. It’s just too daunting (code fro i’m lazy) and well my blog is sooo ridiculously long that it’s difficult to pull parts and ‘book form’ it… myself. They have given me the option of doing it myself…or hiring a ghost writer…who i’d pay about a grand to format my life.

Now, i’ve spent a great deal of time boasting about how i’m not using a ghost writer and how i’ve done EVERYTHING myself so far…(ugh, me and my big boasting mouth of fuckery.) Therefore now, i can’t seem and completely out of pride, hire a ghost writer to do my dirty work for me. I mean that was what was setting me apart from my competition…‘i’ve done it all myself’…written every word and formed it perfectly and to my taste. God, i could just poke my own eyes OUT!

Anyway, on a mor ehonest note….I got sooo terrifed in a moment of *scared face,*(like my heart even began to twinge. I was hazy and sweaty and full of ‘it’s all going wrong.’) So i did what any decent floozey would do in a time like this and …talk to Wazza!

So I feel, Wazza & I are the only two people who actually know how we want ‘chrissiewunna.com’ to be presented, work and grow. He gets it. I get it. I write it. He organzies it. When i’m panicked he is my first call…because he is of sound mind and i pretty much tell him EVERYTHING …only to have him ridicule me, call me a ‘spastic’ and make it all right again. ( I need gin.)

We weighed up my options, he poked his head of baldness into my situation (ooh-er) and i think we’ve now come up with a solution. What Wazza is GREAT at doing is making everything easier for me. Without me even saying he’ll know how i feel and know what will make it better. He’s like a portable plaster that you put over poorlies, until they mend.

I’ve calmed right down now and let me tell you, when you are in placed in work situations that may make you sweat a little (And i don’t sweat. I’m a Glamour puss. I think it’s gross. I don’t even glow…i just shimmer.) Especially situations that come out of the blue…like i thought they were going to organize the format of my book for me…It’s important not to stress out and hit *panic button.* Decisions must be made, with a clear head…always.

Now, i feel GREAT! Like i can conquer ANYTHING! I mean, sista, i’m Chrissie Wunna, i rise to a challenge and relish it, with a this unbelievable force of strength. It’s a strength that i don’t even know i have. I just have it and it pops out, when it needs to. (Liek ym vagina.) It has been built up over a whole mess of time and a whole mess of life that i have landed my tarty self in…to the point that when i fight…i am now indestructable. It takes a lot to get me down. I’ll always get back up on that horse and i’ll fucking do it with a *hair-toss.* (‘Do it’ as in conquer my fears, not literally ‘doo it’ sexually.)  This is where my stubborness comes in deliciously. I remember crying as a child when i didn’t get what i wanted and my mother, lifting up my chin, smiling at me and telling me i could achieve ANYTHING! All it took was a inner force of strength. I’d get back up, and then ace it. Then she look at me proudly like i was her bestest thing ever…that was before my brother became favourite child.

I will tell you that in my moment of panic, i also consulted my spiritual therapist. I’m a spiritual girl of kitty cat and i enjoy having a sort of life coach…someone who can find that strength in you, instead of dwelling on your weakness. What i learnt was that i panicked because i was scared…a feeling that i’m not used to having. I’m scared because this book venture is a *first* and it’s new. Before when my life was tipsy turvy, i was soo used to change and new that it managed it with a cuppa tea and a smile. These days, i’ve straightened all the kinky bits out…leaving me with a good, stable solid life. I’m going through a lot of *firsts* right now..with the baby, the boy, the love, the book, the life…so not succeeding in something new like the book venture terrifies me. I have a lot more to think about now. I’m not just a floozey with a dream…i’m going to be a Mother and i need this to work.

What i’ve learnt in life is that it doesn’t matter if you fail. It’s what you learn from that failure that counts and we often learn more when we don’t get things quite right, than when we do! If anything, that’s the important lesson that i want to pass onto my child. When you’ve failed, (and i have a lot in life…Yippeee…lol) you can re-heel, re-gloss and take on any challenge…in the end you will succeed..but you must NEVER give up!

I’ve dedicated a great deal of my life, time and heart to this project… my whole blog, even in the LA Myspace days…i’ve dedicated YEARS to this moment..and that’s why i should be confident. I’m getting scared because it means very much to me. I WILL ride to this challenge and i will celebrate it and because i’ve worked too hard for it all. I’m just as good as anyone else who managed to sell millions of copies. I can give it a shot…and i will…no matter what. If that means, taking one month out of my life, to edit and format my book myself, without the aid of a ghost writer..I WILL. I’m pregnant right now, and i have the time, that a lot of people don’t. Plus i have help…i have Wazza. My best friend. We have to turn a lifetime into a book and do it in a month to make the publisher happy. I can do this..it’s not hard.

What i initally gave the publisher was a copy of my whole entire blog. Obviously that’s a couple years of my life and can’t all be compressed into one little book. It’s at least two. Therefore, i’m just going to do the first part of it..Volume one..which was my inital intention…i want Volumes of my life to be published one my one…as i learn and as i live…until I DIE! Luckily, it’a all in diary form, therefore i don’t think it’ll be too hard a challenge. I’ll just pick out the best bits! What could be better! Plus, this way i have full control of my writings and my imagination is given free range. ( I just think, with a book about yourself, no-one else can pick out the best bits of your life. It’s important that you do it.) I don’t think my agent is expecting me to do it without the aid of a ghost writer..but i can and i will. Lets get creative. I haven’t thrown myself at brick walls all my life, to not beable to conquer something in the end and getting through that wall and i’ll do it with a *wink.*

I sort of feel like my life has been this tragic computer game, where over the years and lands, I’ve pick up a tool per level, that helps me march forward. I’ve never understand why, or even why my life has been led that way….yet now i do. If i never lived that life…i wouldn’t have a story. If i didn’t have a story…i wouldn’t have a book. I have a book…a fucking good one…infact a good few. I intend to inspire and that i will.

During my 29 years on this earth, i’ve learnt new skills and absobred so much knowledge from ‘being’s all over this world. Old, new, happy sad…you name it, i’ve walked with them. It’s nyl later on in life when you truely realize what you’ve learnt. So when people have doen you wrong and within a day they believe they’ve learnt their lesson…know that they never have!

I just feel that finally all my paths have come to a meeting point…and as i take that step forward into my next new chapter…(and still totally in faux fur and with a mocktail) there’s no point in me doing it without that Wunna confidence and feist. It’s who i am. It’s what i stand for and for any little girl that’s ever wanted a dream come true…i’m proving that with that correct strength, no matter how long you’ve guzzled at rock bottom..you can achieve ANYTHING!! *Lifts your chin up-makes you smile.*

Do not get defeated by life. Yes it’s a very power thing…but YOU are the one that gets to manage it.

(Totally woke up to a voicemail from @GaryPonty this morning. He began by pretending he was an old angry chinese woman, then explained how he was in London, mildy hated it and was eating a Fudge. I sooo want a Fudge now, Don’t you? Other than that….I think i’m having a boy?)

The difference between a good boyfriend and a GREAT boyfriend is simply the right dress. You wear the right attire and you’re ‘Handsome’ will swoon for you like no other Prince of Charming could ever swoon. Last night, was my ‘right dress’ night and WOWsers, did i have the most romantic night EVER!! (I’d say well done me. Yet i’m getting far too good at this girlfriend marlarky, that i’m even sick of patting myself on the back. (‘Would you like a side of ego with that sir?’)

Okay, so i yesterday evening i was mulling around feeling sorry for my pretty self, tending to being grumbly and wondering why my hair smelt like Buddhist monks. Don’t get me wrong, i AM happy. However, like i said, the day time of Monday, August 23rd, was rather beige and due to me being unable to tend to my pamering. I’m a serious Glamour Puss. When i don’t fit my pamper in…i fall to pieces like a yester-years rag doll. (I currently have a friend rudely ‘over shoulder’ reading as i’m writing. She believes i’m writing about Pampers…yes…as in the pooey nappy type. It says PAMPER!!! You…(d’ya know what, instead of getting frustrated, i’ll just throw glitter upon her ‘being.’ Which is code for have her killed. )

So anyway, i looked in the mirror, all upside down smile and thought, yeah, i might be all preggo and bumpy, but i’m a Wunna, i can turn this into MAGIC! *Sips her tea, pulls up panties.* Not only did i want to go for a bit of kitten like magic, but i dumped the Wunan past and rather tired look of whorey and went for the hanger that oozed sophistication. I know!!! Well done me…again!

I winked, i pouted, i hair tossed and posed. I blushered and bronzed. I eyelashed and powdered. (God i love the process of the ‘Doll up.’) I then reached for a cream satin pencil, representing the Audrey Hepburn look, that was layered with cream lace. Then after tending to a 7 minute ‘up do.’ I am AMAZING at ‘up do’s.’ Yet really rubbish at doing my hair, when it’s to be left it down. I sprayed it, i pinned it, then gently eased in a fake lilly. Heeled up (they were actually Marks & Spencers wedges…i’m preggo, i need them. However it does humour me that i am slowly side stepping my way into ‘Mum to be’ footwear!) Then realized my top half could actualyl fit into my dress, without feeling like i was going to explode. (By boobs aren’t sue to being hidden and strapped down. They’re quite bitchy. They want all the limelight they can get!) So ihad to pulled myself out of my dress, solid bra up, then try and squeeze my way back into the god damn thing, looking far less Hepburn and waaay more Wunna…only to finally finish, glimpse at myself in the mirro and actually be amazed. I looked beautiful. Like some glorious oriental Princess of Burma. I couldn’t even believe it. I looked classy. I looked elegant and the thing is…i felt sooo much better than i do when i dress slaggy. Random much!

I was overwhemed wby my inner Goddess, so i added cream, diamond earrings and a hot pink, rose clutch..to give it that Wunna *umph.* My ‘Handsome’ pulled up outside, to do our usual night time meet up and you should’ve seen his face…he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was like the first time we had met. He didn’t even recognize me! I totally did my own ‘Snog, Marry or Avoid!’

I gracefully sauntered up (it’s bizarre how what you wear, sort of controls how you act,) and i slipped into his car! He was like besotted with the way i had delivered myself to him…a smile from ear t ear…his heart beating throughhis chest. It was like somthing out of a Disney movie. Love hearts filled his eyes. I gave him his knife (rememebr theone that my mum bought me and a book) then he drove me back to his to show me off to his family, yet more because he wanted to get changed.) That’s how vain my delicious boy of ‘lover’ is. He won’t let me out do him in the *strut* department…and i like that!

The whoel drive there, he just kept telling me beautiful i looked and how he couldn’t even believe his eyes. the difference was that he said it from his heart and not just because i wanted to hear it. Makes a big difference. he could barely contain himself.

We got back to his, and ran into his house. (By this time i had completely fooled myself into believing that i WAS the Queen of some magical asian country.) Then as i was greeted by almost every charming Wattis family member…(they are the most lovely & agreeable future family any floozey could ever wish for,) again told i was gorgeous, then as i waved offPetes’ niece and nephew..who were venturing back to thier mother’s house…Loverboy tending to the part of the night where he tries to impress me. This is why i love boys. When you look divine, it is in their merry nature to go weak at the knees and begin trying to impress you, with their ever so manly skills.

I sat on a kitchen stool like i was the Queen of all the land and my darling lovely ‘handsome,’ almost like a Jack the lad, some kind of court jester, attempting to woo me, performed his manly ‘look what i can do for you,’ lovable act of glory! (He is the cutest thing i have ever seen in my LIFE!!! I’m in love!!)

Okay without going into it all way too thoroughly ( haha i was THAT impressed) all i’ll say is i gave the man the ‘sharpest knife in the world’ and well he won my glamour puss heart by cutting the thinnest slices of bread physically imaginable, toasting them and feeding them to me. The then went on to try and cut everything..but all that part of his act went wrong. LMAO. It wasn’t what he was doing that i was impressed with, it was the fact that he was sooo adorbale whilst he tending to his madness.

I swear on my life…my dress actually brought a REAL LIFE skip to his step. I saw him ‘walk -skip,’ a beat! he was so proud to have me on his arm and soo prous to parade me around others like the cat that got the cream! I love him feeling that way…like he has everything in the world. All that they write in fairytales and love stories is true. I’ve seen it happen with my very own slanted and ‘over done smokey’ eyes. It takes a long time to find your Prince, therefore making people no longer believe in the fairytale. BUT then you are handed it, by dear Cupid himself and you WILL be handed it…then your world is never the same again. I am soo deeply inlove with this boy that i cannot ever imagine him being absent from my life. The love that we have is so innocent and pure. It take sme back to my childhood…y’know how love should be. I never thought i would feel this way…and get this…i was sober!

Anyway long love story short, Loverboy was so filled with joy that he decided we should celebrate our union with cockatils…well mocktails in my case and dinner. he got chnaged, looked delicious, drove me to Leeds and we enjoyed an evening on a leather cocktail bar sofa (‘Henry’s’ to be exact) and talked about how much we meant to one another and th epower of ‘up do’s.’

We snuggled, we laughed, he was actually treating me really different and like i was a real life Princess. For the last 12 weeks and due to my sudden pregancy, i hadn’t really glammd up as much as i had wished for, i’d kind of ‘let go.’ (it’s the mornign sickness…it will try and kill your inner Goddess.) but like Chrissie Wunna, i got back in them heels and shimmied way way to victory.

We were so close last night, to the point where it felt like our souls were one. Then he bit my arm because he claimed i was so delicious he could eat me. I had a virgin mojito..he had ONE drink and seemed sooo drunky from it! Hahaha…I do love Pete for that! I think his emotions had just got the better of him. he is 9and i’ll keep saying) the CUTEST thing you will ever lay eyes on.

Then we *hand in hand* ventured to Akbars for a before midnight feast. We walked in  the brisk, cold Leeds air, under a full moon, upon a cobbled stoned street. For some reason Pete was desperate for a kebab…eve so romantic..a Yorkshire man through and through. So we shared a GIANT garlic naan tree and dipped our pieces of ‘yum yum’ in pickle trays and deliciousness, as we giggled and laughed at each other innocently. It was liek we were on our first date. Y’know when you have that sort of fluttery tummy and smile that can’t help but shine through your eyes.

The last time we were at Akbars, we were sat at the table next to us. I was dressed a lot more glamour puss floozey, and we were actually talking about starting a family…funny how things happen. Whatever you wish for will come true. Depends on how much you want it to! Yeah..we’ve done things a bit quickly, yet both of us believe that’s how love works. What i’ve noticed  is that it has never been complicated bewteen Pete and I AT ALL. When you have to ‘try at’ love ir force it, with someone for so long…then it isn’t the real thing. I’ve had to do that many a time. True love is a natural, easy process. The easiest thing you will ever do! When it is a struggle, then it is one sided. When it is one sided, that person is NOT (not matter how much you want them to be) you’re one! (Which reminds me…Jonny missed called me at 3.07pm yesterday afternoon.)

Loverboy and i had the most beautiful night. It was perfect, like an eskimo kiss. He dropped me off just after midnight. (I’m like a fashionably late Cinderella.) He was almost droppingto sleep…a night of big emotion for him. He says he loves me because i show him and tell him how much he means to me all the time and when i say it, it is full on and without fear. I mean, i’ll straight up pour my soul out. I feel how i feel and i have zero problems expressing that emotion. (‘ I love you with all my heart, you are everything to me Pete!’)

He told me he loved on our first date, after i had puked by a skip outside my mother’s home. He used to love me when he was eleven. We’re like the cutest little dumpties any world could find!

I steadied myself back into the house. I can never see in the dark. I walk into wheel barrows and everything and as i slipped out of my Hepburn dress, and shuffled into my pink, fluffy Pj’s, i looked out of my windon and smiled. I actaually kept my hair in, simply so i could feel like a Princess forever. Unfortunately when i wok eupt his morning, it looked a lot less desirable. Less Hepburn, more whore house.

At 12.49 am, he sent me a text…like he did on our first date, reading ‘Thankyou 4 ur lovely company and a great night darling. Sleep tight. I love you. x’

Everythings coming together, my career, my love life, my family, my world. I LOVE 2010. Soo much better than my sequinned, gutter puking 2009! I’m finally growing up and for the first time, it actually feels wonderful. You will find your ‘happy ending,’ you just need to believe you will.

I love you.

I’m extremely loving my Ponty friends right now. Nothing amuses me more than a bit of that old Yorkshire banter. I’m aware that some good folk see me as this pretentious, lovely being of snobby-dobby tragic superificiality. Yet, along with all that…:) i’ll have a sausage, a pint, a banter and a biscuit. Why not? The thing that’s wrong with me is that i have the exterior of a ‘Vixen much Diva’. However, on the inside..i am completely littered with that horrific northern, inappropriate humour. That ‘elbows up’ charm. I’m that Yorkshire pudding eating, flat cap wearing, say it how it is…deliciousness, that everybody hates. The only difference is i can pronounce my words properly. (I love how i’m trying to write a blog expressing how down to earth and northern I am, when i’ve just this second had to FB Chat wazza asking him to name me some very Yorkshire things, to mention in my blog. ) He said Yorkshire puddings, flat caps and teenage pregnacies. I do LOVE Wazza…Who’s love life is going surprisingly well, i dare say! He hates it if i ever mention his love life…but i will say that i told him to pretty much stop watching the trailers and be brave enough to enjoy the movie. I also then told him that he doesn’t need to be afriad of ‘ways out,’ because i am the Queen of exits! Ooh more Wazza Yorkshire notes just in: ‘ a yorkshire terrier, sat in a yorkshire pudding, with a yorkie bar balanced on his head… in york.’ These are the friends i keep.

Incase you didn’t know, one of my good chick friends, Harriet (who is  my best chick friend in all of Ponty land) is also pregnant. I know right? It coudln’t have been timed better!  I think she’s in her 9th week or something and i’m in week 15? Yet regardless, it’s GREATNESS! I feel like i’m not going it alone.

Today i found out that Harriet believes her child may have been concieved under a canal bridge by the Hilton. (Which ofcourse i love.) Or on a train. (A bit too germy for me.) :) Pete & I, believe ours was concieved in the executive sweet at the Park Plaza hotel in Leeds, that we were upgraded to, after moaning about the price!

What i enjoy about Pete and I, is that we have absolutely NO idea, AT ALL as to WHERE our child was concieved??? Yet unlike Harriet and her new beau ‘Youngie’…we’ve decided to lie and NOT go with his mum’s car, a dirt-track, or The Etap hotel…which is always full of ‘working’ girls, that wank off pensioners and assylum seekers for £10/an hour.

Harriet also informed the nation (after reading a book by Sophie Kinsella) that if your boyfriend has not asked you to marry him within 18 months, he NEVER will. Under her statement, i viewed a great deal of ‘thats’ bollock’s Harriet,’ comments. But like really…IT’S NOT! I’m like an expert at weddings and proposals.  I’d like to meet these men who want to wait for a ‘forever commitment,’ simply because i’m bored of going to my OWN wedding. I truely believe that if your gent has not mentioned marrying you in a positive and serious light, or done his ‘down on one knee’ thing within 18 months, then you really are fucked….because he won’t do it…ever! I mean…he’ll get lazy and feel like he has a wife, when he actually doesn’t. Or he might just not want to settle down. I don’t think this is too bad, as between Peter & I, I am the ‘being’ that’s commitment phobe. Pete’s all lovey dovey, ‘ lets move this party along to the *Forever* box.’ I’ve been through a great deal more emotional trauma than this little bright eyed chappy…so i’m one to think and process my actions, a wee bit more these days and THANK GOD FOR IT! I’m far less impulsive…hence why i’m hardly ever in trouble. But do note girls…i NEVER play the role of ‘his wifey’ ever. I make sure he knows i’m just his girlfriend, ALL the time.

Harriet is making me look like the worst girlfriend in the world ever. I mean, she’s going to be taking her ‘handsome’s’ last name before the baby is born and everything. When Pete reads that he’ll think i don’t love him. Lol. My *strut* towards this action is a great deal slower, in that department..and simply because i don’t want to find myself crying into Christmas baubles again, with the phrase ‘ When i said get a hobby, i meant save the fucking Whales, not sleep with FUCKING boys’ being shouted at me, on a lonely night time street. ( I had to sleep in my car that night, by a Studio city river. A turkish man let me into his home and gave me a cuppa tea out of pity. That’s how ACE i was! Then i got accused of sleeping with him also!!! I was having a CUP OF FUCKING TEA, instead of waiting around to sleep with the fishes…in tinsel. What is wrong with you!?!)

Anyway, i do actually have to get ready now. I hate myself for not tending to my pamper day. I’m losing my touch. I ended up not going to Donny Pride on Saturday simply because it was such a lovely day and i chose to spend it with my Loverboy. It seemed a great deal more fun that drinking juice out of plastic cups, under bunting at a racecourse, that probably played Lady Gaga.

Gay Adam has now decided to audition to be a character at Disney Land Paris, for the second time. (I love this behaviour, simply because i want to say i know Goofy.) He apparently passed the character audition last time, but failed the dance part. How can you be gay and FAIL the dance part!?! That’s the best part! The only part i’d ACE! Anyway, like a true trooper, he has found himself at The Pineapple dance studios learning to  McJiggy!, How exciting! I so want him to get it and I sooo want to go to Disney Land PARIS FOR MY birthday! I’m way proud of him for not giving up. Like a Wunna…he just got back on that horse.

Other than that i’m loving the X-factor. It humours me because when reality shows are on, Loverboy and I always fight. We fought on Saturday simply because he decided to focus his attention on the woman who sang ‘Mercy’ weirdly, who should’ve never got through’s CAMEL TOE! He wrongly announced his focus to me. The only camel toe he should be looking at IS MINE! How dare he! So i pulled a strop! *Hitting took place.* (He did that smirk..that he enjoys to do when he’s wound me up! That soon disappeared. Oh how foolish of him!)

Later on i began to talk about the willies of other men, like David Beckham. Pete despises it when i talk about the size of other mens willies, funnily enough. I love that we both get jealous and attack. I felt like he was being all cocky since he recieved that ever lasting Wunna blow job at The Premier Inn. It’s like the sexy version of Willy Wonkas candy store. He had this arrogant swagger about him, that i had to beat out. I can’t have him thinking he’s some kind of big willied ‘King’ of me. How dare he!!! When the words, ‘You better know you’re place!’ Are being said…you know it’s love! God give a boy a blowy and he thinks he owns the world.

Anyway he got jealous because i flew out the stats of David Beckhams willy and the biggness of it. He fumbled and then said, ‘Well that girl had a massive camel toe.’ I replied with a ‘What? A big FANNY! That’s not the same as a big willy, dear!’

So he then went on to say, ‘Yeah but she had really big boobs!’ (Omg, like he hasn’t learnt not to challenge me. Like SHUT UP much!!! ) I replied with a ‘Whatever…I have really big boobs.’ He stumbled his way nervously to another ‘Yeah but she…’ However,  he saw the ‘yeah but she fucking what…’ in my eyes!

It ended with him cuddling me immediately, saying he was sorry and me letting him kiss me repeatedly until i forgave him. We made up and began our fairytale once more. Beware the green eyed monster! I can’t believe he tried to give me a lecture on the importance of safe sex last night. Like am I on a show right now, actually talking about Safe sex on the telly…Or is he on the show and NOT getting slanted eyed floozies pregnant!!! Puleeese! Have a word.