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Tranny Stripper Lap Dance

Good afternoon, you sexy bits of *doo-daa.* I love getting random cheques, that appear out of nowhere, that people don’t really think you deserve, yet the good money Gods, have decided you’re fit to receive it anyhow. ‘Ah fuck it, it’s Christmas. Let’s give the glitzy floozy some dollar.’ Being over charged for something is always terribly hideous and is the main reason for my future wrinkle build up. However, when you fight your fight, stand your ground and to the point where the other party have to come up with the goods, after mistreating you…and the ‘the goods’ is in the form of money AND at Christmas. You’re all smiles and corsets and completely in the name of ‘Justice.’ Yipppeee! *Fan yourself here*

More importantly, it’s been a quiet blog day today. (Which i don’t like. You’re meant to be spreading the word, not refraining from reading about my life. :) ) However, it’s warming to know that a bundle of people managed to accidentally find my site today, by searching the term ‘Tranny Stripper Lap Dance‘ on their lovely computery device. Now, i’m not sure how impressed you were when you we directed to Wunna Land, to take care of your ‘tranny/stripper/dancing’ needs. Yet i’m sure you were more impressed with the previous bundle who once searched the term ‘Pakistani paintings,’ and were guided to chrissiewunna.com, also by default. That’s how i get through life…by default. The other folk found me by searching ‘sexy thong girls.’ Not even a ‘Chrissie Wunna’ Google search today. I had something really important to say, but i just can’t at all remember it right now? I could remember more when i was a drunk. I swear down that pregnancy is stealing my memory for kicks. I flipping found myself eagerly running upstairs (which means slowly… i don’t run) only to find myself stood in the middle of a make up room, puzzled, scratching my head wondering what it was that i actually needed in the first place. HIDEOUS behaviour. I only like to forget things on purpose. Like previous men…and embarrassing moments that don’t end up being funny after a year. (I’m currently surrounded by a bundle of 20 something year old chavtastic mums. Al with orange tans, jet black hair and babies, with booze by their side. They all look the same ‘tried hard to be sexy’ way. Yet their faces look ‘worn.’ I don’t think they enjoy me very much because…well probably because i’m secretly watching them and slagging them off on my laptop. :) However, they don’t know that, so well i have no idea why they don’t adore me? :)  They keep scowling at me, like i should get burnt or beaten by a worn faced, fake tanned, elf mafia. But saying that…I am at a Wetherspoons, so i’m kinda on their territory. They’re like a pack of wolves, who’s faces look *angry*  when they simply couldn’t be happier. It’s hardly The Ritz in here, even though the place itself is quite lovely and has FREE WiFi. (Hence my appearance.) Meaning that you can fill a lovely place, be it four walls, a life, or a heart, with a certain ‘type’ of clientelle…and you can immediately make it ‘un-Ritz’ like. It’s a jungle in here and unfortunately in really good lighting.

(Just having a *flashback* of a couple Christmas seasons ago, when i lived in London. I was filming an internet show in London at the time and went to set at 7am, after only 1 hours sleep and a fight in a kebab shop, in Camden, the night before because ‘Boyband Jonny’ had been a nuisance to a girl in a red coat.’ When i got to set, there was a random ‘Tranny in the kitchen making Cornflakes and buttery bread. It was ace and  like the normallest thing that ‘Chrissie Wunna’ could’ve found in her kitchen, when she simply needed an orange juice..and i’m talking full on bright red afro wig and blue dress, with glitter heels tranny. Life has moved on. Luckily not the ‘filming’ part of it. But the dodgy part of it..that i weirdly never found bizarre. I feel like i’ve adventured through the world, seen everything and come back to where i began..full circle and because i now know that what i had and who i was, was simply the better deal anyhow. I’m now dipped with a glitzy champagne ‘class’…with a hubby and my own little  family. Developing as a person rocks and especially when you can look at your past, laugh at the who you where, the mistakes you made, yet make note of the serious mistakes you made and move forward comfortably, as you close the door.

So tomorrow i’m driving, meaning that you live anywhere near me BE WARNED. I am actually allowed to drive because i do have my full license. I just haven’t in ages, so i’m terrified. Keiran’s far too excited as he has false visions of me now driving HIM everywhere, instead of the other way around. I think driving is a boy thing and no lady should ever have to drive a man around, simply because they can’t be bothered. I mean, they moan about women being shit drivers anyway..so cool… i’m waving the flag for that and saying ‘ Baby you drive.’ I’ll do essential ‘have to’ pick him ups and nursery runs…but no driving us to dinner marlarky or any of that rubbish. I’m a kitten. I get driven. He’s also disappointed because my foot fetish has disappeared. I had a day of being attracted to his feet and their largeness. Haha. Sounds creepy. I’m over it now. However it was humourous having him attempt to *whop* his clown feet out at any given moment, with a seductive face and rub them up and down my leg in order to get sex. He’s a horny boy right now (‘I’m yearning for you and you are giving me nothing) and i’m preggo exhausted. (*Waddle-Waddle*) I’m gonna end up having to keep him in a cage at this rate. I mean i fondled his balls this morning and the morning before his willy did a sick on the bed sheets. I think that’s enough, until i have more red meat in my system. I swore down to my friend that i was sure it was the raw meat diet that got me suddenly and utterly pregnant. He looked at me (via text :) ) and said, ‘Darling, i’m sure it was more the slaggy sex.’

I’m starving now. I can’t mention any foody products in sentences without suddenly needing to eat them. The hubby is out for drinks with Kelly’s Phil tonight around Ackworth, as i’m home tending to my gorgeous Baby Rubes. I enjoy naming my friend’s men after their ladies and simply because it’s like they own them. I’m quite happy about Keiran being out with dear Philip and simply because Phil’s a good egg. So with me it’s less about the ‘going out’ Keiran will do and more about the company he keeps…and ofcourse the ‘Stupid boy’ foolery. Phil’s wanting to go out because the lovely Kelly has recently been out and about with the guys and girls that she works with and well in situations like this you don’t have to be worried and simply because if they balls up…they lose everything. :)

The only other thing i’ve been up to, other than eating out, (Did a quick lunch at TGI’s yesterday)…and Oh! I put up lovey dovey photos of Keiran and I up in frames around the house. (It makes you feel really ‘housewifey’ when you do things like that. I do prefer to be a money making machine however. Yet the odd moment of ‘aww’ really is lovely.) But anyway, yeah…what i wanted to tell you was that we went to look at a new home yesterday. I say home, but it hasn’t actually been built yet. We really like it, even though it’s currently just a rubble patch. Yet hopefully when it turns into a 4 story, 5 bedroom house…get this with it’s own DRESSING room. (I was completely sold on that.) It has it’s own giant walk in room, dedicated to dressing, looking at yourself in mirrors and clothes, that is situated between your separate ensuite and bedroom..which is the entire top floor. When that house gets built…which isn’t until next Christmas…i want it. But for now..we can only but wait and enjoy the life we have.

Merry Christmas Kittens. Celebrate who you are and love every single inch of it!

 

 

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