‘You aren’t wealthy until you have something money can’t buy!’
That’s my quote of the day. However, I always thought, along some level, somewhere, money could pretty much purchase anything, your heart desires. A mail order bride, sex, a broke hottie, an education for a job…boobs…a lifestyle…even a child. But no. None of that matters unless it’s of a real nature. A true nature. And the things that are of true nature are priceless. So people can swank off in their brand new Bentley’s or shimmie to the left with their hottie number two (and don’t get me wrong, I adore all that I’m shallow and hungry eyed. Materialism on a level works for me. ) But if you don’t balance that out with ‘true’ stuff, like the girl or guy who is always there for you, with a whole heart filled with proper love and a beaming strength ‘forever.’ Or the next in line to your legacy, your babies, who you cannot even imagine living life without. Family. Love. That stuff. If you don’t balance the bouji with it, you don’t really have anything that matters in the long run. If a set of Porsche keys are the only thing that you have waiting by your death bed…then you’re…to put it politely….FUCKED.
I don’t even know what any of that ‘above’ stuff is about. I’m just feeling preachy innit. *Gets off her horse of wisdom and wallops back upon her donkey.* I’ve been up since 5am, so i’m obviously delirious and sober which is never a good thing in Wunna Land. I’ve only had 3 hours sleep, yet because i”m a trooper…and all that malarky…i can utterly handle it…and have a decent hairdo.
I sat up through the night with my unsettled newborn boy. Then just as my alarm went off at 5am, I scooped myself together, left the children to sleep, did my face, my hair, slipped on my corporate Barbie attire, cranked on my heels, found some va voom, underlined my little kitten eyes…grabbed my bag, kissed them goodbye, left instructions to my ‘stay over’ mother…and drove my pretty arse to the train station, to catch a very early 6.43am train to get to a work place, that will hopefully make me so good doughie dough bucks. I’M BACK! (I’m astonished at how super organized i’ve been of recent.I was even ordering my mum about like I was Queen Diva of the world and like she hadn’t a clue as to how to raise anything. Raising me, is like raising 100 disobedient children at once. She’s a pro. But this morning, I impressed her with my bossiness. Only MY mum would be impressed by that.)
I went to work in the dark this morning..
…and I hate that, but I did it. It then decided to heavily piss it down, which humoured me mildly, if humouring meant ‘made you feel rubbishy cold and useless…and maybe a little fucked off.’ Yet even though I missed my bambinos more than life itself, (there’s something about leaving them asleep that I just don’t like) something in me glowed and because I was back to making dollar…and if there’s anything I enjoy other than family, love and life in itself..it’s hard earned cash…bitches I don’t even enjoy the cash of others. But when i’ve made it…it feels goooooood! (And that’s no word of a life. I’m NEVER mooch EVER. I’m a girl who knows how to pay her own way and I think it’s a fore sign thing, because every other fire I know…is the same. Maybe because we’re showoffs? Who knows?
At At 6.19 am, I sat in that disgusting train shelter, in the dark, in the rain… like a champion. Yes, i took retarded pictures of myself during my ‘shelter’ time because i was bored. Yet the funny thing was, right next to me was this guy, who was waiting for the exact same train, who sat there and pretended none of it was happening.but I’ve been really frustrated of recent because for the entire pregnancy i’ve felt i’ve been sat on my arse doing bollocks all. It’s not in my nature to be that way. It admittedly even caused a truck load of problems in my marriage, due to me feeling as though I wasn’t giving my best, or putting my part into our family.
Today, it all changed and I felt nothing short of super. And yeah, we can put a ‘dooper’ on that end of that shizzle. One day, i’ll get to stay at home and raise babies..glamorously of course, as I’d die otherwise. I might have my dignity, yet I won’t have my fake eyelashes, which would pretty much dissolve my soul of any worth or existence.
It all went well and even though I felt nervous, like I was dipping my bare toe, into the shiny pond of new, it felt right. I’m having to adjust a lot, yet this adjustment is nothing short of fabulous.A lot has happened to me recently, but i’ve strutted it out, like Madonna. Now, I have that glow and well everyone knows guys dig a chick with ‘that glow.’ It sincerely makes you more attractive. *Opens up little black book. Yawns at it with a whatever.*
Got home early. It was still non stop raining drawing a jolly old Yorkshire line under Summer. It didn’t matter what part of the north I was in..the same amount of ‘beautiful weather’ graced each destination. Huddersfield…rain. Wakefield…rain. Pontefract…..rain. Almost Manchester…rain. It was hilarious, if funny was ‘not at all’ and my wash off tan left drip trickles down my ever so natural arms. Classy!
I’m now home and baking cottage pies or tea, as I have a short time to do everything in for when the kiddies get back from nursery Keiran and I have been getting on really well today and mainly because ‘I’m back’ and he’s learning to believe it, without stropping. We did lunch yesterday, after filming a surprise treat for a somebody,which i’ll tell you about tomorrow. It was marvellous, flirty and sweet, like nothing had changed…until it changed and we began bickering. We’re both head strong so we can clash if we go for it. I blanked him on the way home. He got pissed off and started going on about how pissed off he was…which led to being back where we were…square one.
Then I remembered to later tell him that if we focused on the positives that we bring one another, instead of the negatives, then all would be okay. He was off at first..but agreeable…as his basic nature is one of emotion. Then once Ruby got a hold of him via the phone…
…and his heart melted…as did mine. That chick is far too adorable for her own good…and totally evil with it. Once those sunglasses go on…there’s no stopping her. If Timmy Mallet and Jackie Chan made ferociously exciting love. Ruby would be their love child. LOOK at her.
Today, Keiran and I have been quite respectful and loving to one another, as we carefully tread forward, to see how each step goes. We’ve been in love. Yet today, it seemed back to normal, if not better than normal…if normal is living apart even though you’re married. But yes…it’s certainly heading in an alright direction and i’m looking at him through new, fresh eyes.
I filled him in on my ‘today.’ He filled me in on his mad cooking bonanza. (He made pasta for himself in his new ‘away from me’ apartment that he shares with his friend. Basically, everything I used to make him…he now makes for himself. Y’see, men CAN usually cook. They just like women or others doing it for them. I got a moment to moment account on his pasta development.with pictures…and it was kinda nice to hear him cooking stuff, being happy and back to being lovey dovey. And he’d probably say the same about me. It’s like the angry part is over now. In fact, it’s really nice…to the point where I was like ‘this is going to work’…but then i rocked back to wait a second? In a comedic fashion. As if he’s trying to replace me with his own cooking hands.:) I might be a shit cook…but he’s not going to ‘not need’ me that easily. My pies (that are in the oven) are going to be the bomb diggy. Well if i haven’t burnt them already. That of course would be shit. He can’t ‘out cook’ me. I’m sending him pictures of my cottage pies when they’re done, with a ‘look at what you could’ve won’ sign. He told me that he didn’t mind cooking from now on. I pointed out that i now has evidential proof of that now. Then he quickly switched it to once a year. It was cute, hubby/wife flirting. It was healthy. It was fresh.
Y’know, I’ve only made cottage pies because it was raining and although some of you may roll your eyes at such a crime…it’s better than doing what they do in LA when it rains…which is never…and that’s call it ‘baby making weather.’ I already feel like i have a hundred children….I might as well live in shoe, or be that really rough guy on Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, from the Joyce family who has 30 something grandchildren. WTF! Go live somewhere sunny. Baby making weather has totally got the better of you. It’d be alright, but all his children seemed grizzly. He had 10 year old supping pints in the streets, then growling like they were Lil’Wayne, as they boasted about ‘sinking their fist into something later.’ Lovely.
God, i’m so starving my belly feels concave.
I’m looking forward to seeing the babies in an hour. I need a mummy cuddle…one where they’re jumping for joy and being nuisances. I’ve been peeling potatoes and when your’e peeling potatoes, you know you’re a long way from Hollywood. It’s such a rubbish mundane job. It’s not even therapeutic. It’s messy. I certainly could never be a sous chef. I’m a ‘the rubbish parts have already been done’ kinda gal. I like the ‘throwing it all in and hoping for the best once prepped’ of it all. Even though I have time to waste on potato peeling, remind me to never do it again. I just can’t at all manage to adore it. It’s lumpy, bumpy and sticky. I don’t like it. I did it in diamantes, to make me feel better.
To say that i’ve only had about 2 hours sleep. I’m doing pretty dandy. I have no clue why? But maybe we should have no sleep and catch 6.34am trains. I had coffee before I went to bed and apparently if you do, you sleep better.
Anyway, i’ve got ot go and check on pies. The dating site will be coming soon. I’m back at work. I’m in Manchester Monday to discuss my calendar. I’m reshooting for chrissiewunna.com. My pics need to develop as I do. I have tons of them but have to reuse a few, simply because most of them have ‘out nipples on them. That’s not me anymore. That’s ne behind closed doors, unless Playboy calls and the paycheck is giant. I have a price. I can be bought.
Okay, see ya.
I’m out! x