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Today i’m feeling WONDERFUL. Infact I could ever go so far as to say DIVINE! (Even though I am having 2 perfect circles of black pudding for breakfast, that Loverboy has decided to make me.) Last night and because i’m a ‘DIVA’ I truely commited to the art of good, decent brattish behaviour. Ive now managed to balanced my hormones. How I did it? Sleep, complaining & refraining from being bored. (I’m only ever homronal when i’m BORED.) But i’ve woken up all cuddles and light, after a minor verbal ‘jibber jabber’ with Loverboy, before I went to bed and now i feel as fr’ fr’ fr’ Fresh as a dew dripped daisy, filled to the brim with love, joy and that ever so delightful Wunna ‘ooh laa.‘ The good thing about Me is that I hardly ever drag things on. I’m not a grudge holder, due to me being quite easily distracted by the gloriously revels that life seems to hand me on a silver platter. Plus, as we all know. Glamour Pusses, unlike hardcore ‘IT’ girls travel LIGHT. We’re nimble, cutsie and can *gracefully* leap from world to world, with a simple wink of an eye. (Code for: ‘We’re usually ginned up.’) The art of dragging (and I do mean as in tediously pulling something that you do not wish to be pulling and not the art of men in sequinned frocks, lip syncing to ‘I Will Survive.‘ We all love that kind of ‘Drag.‘ Well when they’re not trying to man fight me, all ‘Butch Cassidy,’ without their wig on, in Soho, after I tell them that I’m a ‘real life girl.’ The Hollywood Drag Queens are ace, because they love me, and graciously give me piggy backs, when i’m eating Starbursts in Weho. The London ones…on the wrong night, can be a bit…what’s the word? Fucking Bitter. )

Anyway yeah…got distracted. Bottom line, ‘Glamour Pusses’ don’t drag anything. It breaks our nails, makes us sweat and pulls the tiny muscles, that we don’t have, in our arms.

I’m all glitter and light right now and I believe it’s because the sun is out in good old Yorkshire. I’m no longer stressed about ‘the birth.’ I’m happy, i’m letting fate take it’s course naturally and not only have I managed to move an entire sofa by my entire kitty cat self, with a Kitten named ‘Columbo’ in my arms. But i’ve also managed to accidentally launch Loverboy’s ‘Oooh can’t wait to eat it, hence why I saved it last night’ leftover spag bol in the trash. Oopsie.

This is why i should never do housework. The sun was out. I felt happy, preggo, but fit. It all got the better of me and i decided to wash a few dishes…which i don’t really mind…except it makes the Fake bake drain off my hands. ( I like the washing part, but refuse to do the drying part. I hate drying anything. Be it hair, bowls, or [insert something creative in here.] I’m the girl you call when you want to turn organized calm, into a moist chaos. I don’t dry things. I make the champagne mess…glamourously.)

Anyway, Pete really fancied a bit of leftover spag bol. He’s a boy’s boy, so gets excited about little things like that. He gleefully skipped (just staggered) to the fridge, whilst I had my back turned to him..because i was washing dishes. Pulled out a delicious, purposely ‘saved from last night’ plate of spag bol, that he probably even had joy dreams of gobbling up for breakfast. He side steps to the oven, with a kitten in his arms, whilst his belly is doing rumbles of ‘yum’ factory ‘ooh laa.’ ONLY to turn around, see that his entire plate of spag bol is GONE (hahaha…sorry, i’m pissing myself. You just had to be there,) and there I was scraping it lovingly, merrily, infact I could’ve even been singing Britney Spears mid-pour and all into the kitchen bin. I remember seeing it and thinking I was dosey for not realizing I had not seen an entire plate of left over food, from last night. I could’ve even ‘eww’d’ a little and launched it into the bin from afar. Best housewife ever!

It was a priceless ‘Chrissie Wunna’ moment. One that ends with an ‘Oopsie’ and a smile. (One where i do actually feel bad.)  Reminds me of a time, I had a roomate in LA who was in chef school. He had craved a melon into a swan and i accidentally ate it. I ATE his homework, coz i right fancied a bit of melon. Imaine having to go back into school the next morning, take your ‘F’ and appeal you deserve a better grade because ‘Chrissie Wunna ate your homework.’ He wasn’t mad at me anyway. Boys never really are.

Loverboy laughed it off, then made me black pudding slices with tomatoe juice for breakfast. LOL. How truck driver of him. He might aswell have thrown in a hooker from ‘Bentley’ and a beer belly, for kicks. It was actually delcious. (But i am 9 months pregnant AND asian. We’ll eat ya hamster if it had a bit of soy sauce on it.)

Today is going to be amazing. Looks like I could have a Valetines Day baby afterall! *Wink-Wiggle.*

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 12th, 2011 at 12:01 pm and is filed under Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.