Eye Spy and a Trip Back To London

Just got out the shower, currently stroking my 8 kittens, had pom poms attached to my boobies almost 3 minutes ago and finished off a conversation with my Mother about boys and how i should go about finding the right one. My Mother truely worries about me and my ‘feisty,’ rather ambitious ways. I remind her of her…and it humours me that it terrifies her. On Decemeber 19th 1980, she squeezed out a ‘Glamour Puss,‘ and after having to watch her ‘fruit’ go through a delicious ‘wiggly woo’ of all kinds of big big trouble, my Mother’s pretty worried. I mean, she believes my ambitious ways, and hunger for power and world domination, will very much get in the way of my love life. Apparently men don’t enjoy a more powerful woman, or a high earning one and right now, i already have Men simply quite terrified of becoming my ‘other half,’ incase one day i hurt them. (But’s not MY problem, that’s they’re problem.) Therefore, in the merry end (and when i am, where i want to be)… I’m told it will be a million times worse! I think she believes i’m gonna have to make a few sacrifices, if i want to score a ‘Happily ever after.’ (I put my ipod on halfway through the conversation, therefore i only got the gist of what she was going on about. I’m not a good lip reader. I *kiss* lips. I don’t bother reading them.) UGH, more than anything, i fancy smooching the boy i went to visit in Liverpool, right now. Best kiss much.

Tomorrow, i have two sight tests to tend to, which i’m not really excited about. I have bad eye sight. I hate it. Yet, the thing that is annoying, isn’t the ‘can’t fucking see at all’ part and more the fact that i ‘can’t fucking see at all’ infront of the HOTTEST optician in the world EVER! It’s almost so devastating, i could quite possibly weep. I mean, he’s delicious and always gives the ‘flirty flirty.’ I usually *hair toss* and smile. Then whilst i have him under my pussycat power, i strut into the small, dark, room, all high heeled and perfectly groomed. I’ll take a seat, then like the biggest ‘can’t see’ spastic, you have ever laid eyes on, I fumble out a bunch of ‘not right’ mumbly letters and cry quite hard on the inside.

Nothing makes you feel soooo completely unintelligent, with a side of ‘insecure’ and dollop of ‘dumb’ much. I’m a clever girl, i always have been…but under no circumstances does a Glamour Puss ever want to look that ‘dumb due to blindness’ infront of a HOT optician. I mean, he puts his face devastatingly close to mine, in order to look into my eye with his torch. I should just grab him and make out with him. I mean, what have i got to lose, but my virginity….again. I hate having bad eyes. But it’s genetic and I did pretty well in all other areas of ‘genetic makeup’ (winks.) Therefore, i guess having a little bit of bad sight, isn’t toooo bad.  Seeing is over-rated. (Just looking at the Facebook profile of a boy i used to date in LA. I remember leaving his appartment one morning, when we were sooo into each other, in the LA sun, in West Hollywood. I kissed him, and giddily began my walk home ..we lived near each other. Then you know when you can still feel someone staring at you, and therefore you *pause* and turn around. Well i did, and he was. I was only on the other side of the street (it was quiet, sunny and residential) and out of nowhere he shouted ‘One day, i’m gonna ask you to marry me!!!’ I looked, i smiled, and walked on. A month after, we broke up! 🙂 ) He’s a really decent guy…who feel for a Kitty Queen and at that time the Kitty Queen was far too ridiculous for her own ‘up her own arse’ Hollywood good. I was much younger. I pretty much took a good boy, and due to my own emotional messiness hurt him, until he couldn’t take it anymore. God, i was AWFUL through my mid-twenties. I dated everyone. But i’d come out of a terribly emotional and horrifically painful divorce. I was hurting, but didn’t even know it and that is more dangerous that anything really. I was extremely self destructive at that time! Never again! That’s why i’m so greatful to be 29 now. You couldn’t even PAY me to go through my twenties again! But on a good note, it was the making of the Ultimate Glamour Puss. If i didn’t go through all that shit, i wouldn’t be who i am today and as we all know, i LOVE being ME!

Other than an eye test, i have to travel back to London tomorrow night. I have a meeting early Wednesday morning, therefore, will be jumping on a train in the evening and getting my pretty arse back to the Old Smoke in time to rest for the big day. I’m excited for Wednesday morning. I have a morning of ‘pitching’ which i’m quite ‘goody goody’ at. Then i have the rest of the day to have a little fun, daudle in my appartment, ‘Dolly’ around Camden and well I pretty much should be leaving in the evening time, to head back up north. ( I love how i’m onlyvisiting my OWN home.) But something tells me i’ll get held up in London. I always get held up in London. (Look…phones even ringing right now. It’s Billi Bhatti, with a ‘Call me asap!’ He wants me to do a shoot.) If i’m honest, i’m actually quite excited about London tomorrow. My appartments a girly state though. Hate that!! But whatever, i was totally drunk when i left!  Jonny’s trying to make me give him the keys to my appartment. As IF!!! I’m not having him leave rauchy ‘skids,’ all over my pretty pink princess sheets!! Last time, i gave someone the keys to my LA home. I found a TRANNY being  sausaged IN MY BED, and i had to sleep on the floor in MY OWN room, because they refused to stop  being hookers!! I didn’t even know them!! LMAO! AND she left her dirty knickers in my sheets! Boobs and a willy. Lovely, lovely!