A wee little reminder

A granny on a train told me to notice how every young person around me, had ear phones in or head phones on, like they were trying to block out the world around them. She told me she believed that the youth of today were terrified of being bored, or still, or simply alone. They needed constant simulation in order to feel safe or happy.

I found what she said interesting and she found the fact that i was the only ’20 something or younger’ that was actually conversing with her openly. You’re not meant to talk to strangers, but if you do, life is gets a little bit saucier. I’m not afraid of a bit of the old ‘stranger banter.‘ I’m more afraid of the fact that one day i’ll die and my whole entire life, my whole entire existance will be forgotten. I will regret not talking to every single stranger i saw in an elevator, train, bedside or meeting. Plus, regret, as i well know, is a little fucker that will eat away at you until the end of time. Turning back that clock is impossible. Make bold decisions, but MAKE SURE THEY ARE RIGHT for YOU! (Why am I covered in Fleas! Not very Glamour Pussy.)

I then looked to my left and saw a young twenty something girl, quite sweet, quite plain, looked flustered, like she worked in an office and did far too much for her pay. Her hair was all starggly and she looked like she had just been suffering from a broken heart. She was dressed in black, and in an outfit that would suggest she didn’t want to get noticed. I watched her look starving and reach into her bag, that was filled with her entire ‘life’ and pull out a tupperware box. (I hate tupperware. I find ‘boxing off’ my life into cheap plastic squares of air tight liddage is sinful. Infact, i don’t get why people go to Tupperware parties!?! What are you thinking? Parties aren’t for buying Tupperware, they are for dancing in nipple tassles after a few too many gins, to ‘Take that’ songs that you forgot you liked and maybe with bongos. I don’t want to buy perfectly sized plastic boxes! I want to waste my money shoving it into the speedos of go-go dancing boys! (I’m getting a *Flashback*of a boy named Scott in LA, who was an adopted go-go dancing boy, who was straight, but go-go danced at a gay bar. Can’t remember which one now? But i do remember cowboys? He was not a cowboy however. He was on all fours in a pink speedo, beckonning me over, and giving me his number that he had written on a reciept. For some reson he really fell in love with me, and beofre our first date. But weirdly the seeing him on all fours, wiggling in a pink speedo, put me off him. He just wanted to be loved and well that meant he wasn’t for me. I want someone to love ME, who I am, who i stand for and not just be filling  a void of ‘need love.’ and ‘any’ love at that! Eww, i hate that ‘falshback’ on Mondays I always feel bad, because i said i would go on a date with him and i just didn’t. UGH! Bad form Wunna)

Anyway, back to the hungry plain girl….She then pulled out what seemed like the tiniest salad, fit for an elf, who was maybe anorexic and i watched her eat it like she had to and not because she wanted to. eat the things thatnake you happy…not the things that make you thin.  It’s sad to see a woman under that kind of pressure. How has this happened? Where is that spirit of ‘ooh laa,’ that Monore magic, full of deliciousness,love humps, sequins, and lighting. When girls were all showy, glamourous and bold. When a woman ate cake, to celebrate their existance. When Chrissie Wunna strutted in with that cheeky glint that suggested ‘playtime.’

I looked at her and smiled, She looked at me, scanned my body with her eyes then looked away…not even acknowledging my *smile.* Eww! When i’m happy, you need to make the most of it. You don’t want to be on the otherside of bitchy Wunna. When i’m smiling, i’m telling you i hear you, especially when you think no-one else does. That girl looked at me like i was the sheer sin of the world and i didn’t even have my ‘Hollywood bounce’ naughty curls in. I felt sorry for her, for a good few moments. I thought i  had a train friend. Then her scowl put me off her and made me glad that i was about to eat a banana nut muffin to the wise words of the ever so informative grandmother sitting opposite me. I ate ti sexaully to make her mad. I’m immature, i know, (haha) but i just don’t like bad behaviour, when it’s not done by me.

I’m currently re-reading through ym weekend bbm’s and i have this great one from my gay ‘Edd.’ We’ve been discussing the art of trapping and training boys. (Like ya do, on a Sunday, the day of GOD!) I told him some useless knowledge like you have to fool the boy into thinking he can’t live without you. He replied with a, ‘Fool? FOOL?? He will BELIEVE!!…It’s like clapping if you believe in fairies. You just do it.’

I need to get showered. My book thing is now scaring me. I’ve completely forgotten about all the stuff that i wrote in the early days of ‘chrissiewunna.com.’ I’ve changed so muc over the last month let alone the last couple of years. but ah well, i guess that’s the beauty of human existance. Or ME! I wonder how they’re gonna piece it all together? Scary much!

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