Bread & Sex & Magic November 5, 2009 by Chrissie Just got back from Lunch with my ‘bit on the side’ (and because he always ‘puts out’) Samuel. I met him in a dirt alley way, in mittens, looking like I was either going to sell you a bag of pills or link arms with you unnannouced and ferociously skip down towards a busy street singing happy songs, only to leave you there to get anally raped by council flat children. We went to ‘The Lock Tavern’ in Camden, best lunch ever, to eat carbs and have pints, over gossip dressed like Ken Doll and Barbie. Yet he’s HOTTER than ‘Ken‘ because as you know ‘Kens‘ only using Barbie for money & tits. And well i’m HOTTER than Barbie, because at least I’ll talk to you, feel you up and then swear at you before ‘blanking’ you. Don’t think that bitch (if she were real) would ever talk to you. She’d blank you, like you were soooo 10 minutes ago and would never put her finger up ya bum. We’ve had the best feta, pita, humousy lunch ever. And now we’re fat! I hate carbs. Did our usual gossip, slag off our friends, dream of ‘better times,’ throw our food up in the bathroom and all from a ginormous grey sofa, that we laid on like fat slobs (in mittens, in public) whilst we ate, talked about boys and he did his phenominal impression of the ‘MUM‘ from ‘The FAMILY!’ (I pissed myself something silly …‘you stupid man’ hahahah.) We LOVE HER!! I want to BE her. He wants to constantly wear my mittens. (Infact now i think about it, whilst we we’re doing lunch, and openly talking about EVERYTHING… we had these two random beings who looked like ‘Wuzzle Gummage’ & his ‘smiley’ bitch, sat at our table, just chilling and listenning in and making me spill my Strong bow and blackurrant.) I love the time that i Spend with him because we can just tell each other anything, without fear of judgement and well we stick up for each other like our lives depend on it and both know how to have a good time. But now i’m fat. And it’s all his fault. I think we organized our birthdays and stated we we’re gonna get so trashed and go watch Drag Acts, then drive to Vegas and go to the Casino in our pyjamas. Infact both of us also admitted that if we get a late night call from a ‘Hottie’ whilst we’re slobbing around at home, secretly eating carbs, in our rubbish pyjamas. He’ll immediately jump up grab his loveliest pyjamas, do his whole face, get a hair cut, pump his willy and act like it’s all natural. And i’ll leap out of my tracky bottoms, do my hair, face, put my boobies on (they’re like two little midgets, i keep locked up in my closet) and slip into a slutty nighty…and pretend I always look like that, whilst i seductively perch and wait for my ‘Handsome!’ Hahaha… Yes we’re tragic! Yes we have GREAT lives. Yes we’re now going to be doing lunch EVERY Thursday in Camden…because it’s far too good to not to. I want X-factor Tickets! I’m hearing fireworks!!! Are You??