Last night in Leeds i went to my weekly Burlesque class, where pretty much learn how to be sensual to music, with a delicious side of glamour. We learnt ‘arm caresses’ and i’m not even kidding, i’m sure i turned myself on. It’s a great class and i’m studying under ‘Bella Besame’ (who’s not only an amazing teacher of the art of ‘ooh laa,’ but also loves to go for a dash of wine with ‘The Wunna’ after class! REJOICE! Tricking my teachers into boozing up. It’s the way forward children. I tells ya! Fuck an apple, get them trashed for good grades.
I have a tea taster in my class, a tester of people who test things, someone who works in a tax office and…well i can’t remember the rest. But they’re oodly dead nice to me. I get no special treatment or anything and it sucks (LOL.) I LOVE special treatment. But i do enjoy just being ‘one of the girls.’ I’m getting quite good that this glamourous gyrating and caressing now. I deserve medals!!
After class we all got pissed up and all i remember is wine, a blackcurrant spritzer, and a 10 foot tall drag queen in white, with Uncle Festa from the Addams family (who was turning 50 that night) asking for a picture with Me, with a random hand, (that he oddly produced out of nowhere,) that wiggled on it’s own accord. He suggested i held it to my breast and pose, for a birthday piccy! I did. I LOVED IT!! Then i carried on getting so drunky with my teacher in some posh bar. We talked love, life, men and everything in between.
On the train home i remember drunk calling some boy, and people videoing my conversation for no reason whatsoever. Then i was shoved in a Mercedes, driven to my bed, forced to pass out and then rudely awaken at 7am, with a bacon butty being thrown at my head and a ‘Get up you’ve got to go to London…like NOW!’
I felt like an awful mess of a shivering (I guess summers now over) whore bag. Yet after 2 trains and a little more shut eye. I now feel amazing and i’m ready to take on the world of work once more. Thank God. I’d thought i’d lost Me for a second there.