OMG! Woke up this morning deeply snuggled in my sheets. I have the flu AND a human in my Uterus that will have to look after lovingly for the upcoming years. The Flu, dipped with ‘human in my belly’ ain’t too sweet. But being the kitty catterilla that i am, i just looooves being snuggled in deep cosy sheets. (Any excuse to do my work in frilly pyjamas all day.)
Although im sick, i feel quite filled to the brim with affection and ‘ooh laa.’ I’m like a giggly bundle of horrifically infectious flu. *Sneeze-winks* I’m sure it won’t last long? I just seem to get bored when i’m poorly, like i have nothing worthwhile to do, inspire or destroy? I need a calm, easy preggo job that i can do, to pass the time before the book, the cosmetic line and acting school. I’m in this weird ‘meantime’ phase, where i’m just waiting for the arrival of my ‘Glamour puss.’ Until then everything is on *hold* button. I hate the *hold* button phase. At least when you’re in line on the phone and all ready to complain…there’s Greenselves on repeat or Beyonce? In life…there’s just fuss, haze, umming and drama. This part of my life i’m going to file under ‘BORED.’
Right now i believe that once my ‘had baby’ time has been ticked off. I’ll be happy, because pregnancy is sure as hell one ticket to*snoozeville.* It’s like this limbo place of ‘dolly dull,’ with waiting and sobriety. Yipppeee! *Yawns.* I mean, i’m so excited about getting it over and down with now, that you won’t even KNOW what has hit you, once i’ve popped it out. I’m gonna unleash the inner Puss with full force and glitter explosions and simply out of pure excitement. (Then get my tit out, like old Mother Hubbard to feed my poor child, mid-world take-over.) I’m wanting to hurry this along merrily because he competitive streak in me (*Hair-toss*) is not liking people thinking that they are over-taking me. Lol. I’m on a ‘having a bambino’ break and i’m still attemtpting to stilleto my way forward as fast as i can! I need to *pause* and have a sit down. HAHA. *Puts bra back on.*
Once i have birthed my ‘kitty cat’…i will ‘rum up’ and when i ‘rum up’…i am DANGEROUS! It will be *swagga* galore. (God, i can’t wait til i can have rum again ) I’m like a superhero that only runs on booze. I just need to learn to accept this ‘down time’ and embrace it fully and on Fanta. (The Devils Juice. What’s the point?) I’m filled with this fear that if i stop…everything will *stop.* That’s not neccessarily true. However i am assured by my good gay friends that sisters and misters may attempt to tip-toe past me. But by New Year my *Va Voom*..which is annoying and unbearable at the best of times, will blow all sneaky peekies out the merry water. (Excuse my behaviour. I’ve just commited to dancing to thug style music, like i was in a ‘feet stick to the floor’ club…but in my living room, whilst Jeremy Kyle was on. It’s made me all ‘i have a hard life’ and cocky…when really my life is like being gleefully raised in the air by delicious greek gods who shout phrases of worship, in their togas with big green grapes and feathered fans.)
Other than all that, i’ve been trying to teach Pete that kissing does not always have to lead to sex. If i kiss him (and i do a great deal because i’m a naturally affection dolly of birdy birdy,) his *dongle* points slowly upward and then he’s rushing me to the nearest flat surface for a bit of ‘Hows ya father.’ He needs to learn that kissing is kissing and sex is when i want a free dinner. I’m one of those weirdos that can’t *kiss* someone on the lips whole heartedly if i don’t ‘love’ them…yet for some reason i can bonk them
We had a bet on where he stated that i wouldn’t beable to find a normal job that i liked within a week…(after i was rambling on about how easy it is for people to get jobs lol.) Like i know? Anyway, i won the bet and simply by lying, chnaging the rules and booking a modelling job, stating that ‘modelling is a NORMAL job’ for me.
My prize is a ONE HOUR full body massage by Loverboy himself. (Ooooh.) The problem is, he’s sneaky and he will try to give me 3 minutes massage and 57 minutes sex. (That’s lies, he does about 22 pumps before he gives in.) In life, he’s the giving one of selflessness. In the bedroom, he’s the grubby little taker. I’m the giver. (We stick to our strengths, i guess?) Why can’t a boy just beable to give the ‘apple of their eye’ a simple back rub, without wanting something for themselves? They criticise young ladies for always being ‘want-want-want’…when really men give anything to have that power.
Bottom line, I’m not letting him *duck weave* his way out of my full 60 minutes. Sex can happen at 61 mintues. Yet until that time of alarm…he’s making like massure and oiling me UP.
I’ve been pretending to be Geordie all day. Yeah..no real reason other than boredom. I really do need to find something productive to do with my time? Maybe i should eat?