So i’m god dang internet wasn’t working yesterday. it does this to me. I’ll really need it for comfort or to report sinning and it’ll simply turn around, look me up and down and *middle finger*me.
Now, i don’t have anything to report, due to complete and utter boredom…therefore its all ‘Hey Bitch…Now blog.’
I’m a highly active kitty cat and i’m finding doing nothing yet caring around my *bump* is boring me. I don’t even have anything saucy to look at or anything fun to do. I can’t drink, i can squeeze into my sequinned size 8 numbers and i can’t flirt with boys between sheets. That pretty much summed up my life. In the words of Whitney (before she turned into a crack head) ‘I have nothing. ‘
I mean, i’m even contemplating hiring hot shirtless male models that simply roam around the house, in tight boy boxers, in pecs and biceps and dreamy eyes of lusteroo. I don’t want them to talk…as that’d be weird, But i do want them to aimlessly wonder and ponder and make me cups of tea. It’s kinda like the Playboy mansion…but without tits. (See even the sheer baby THOUGHT of that has brought a smile to my face and a *glint* in my eye.) Saying that i’d probably get bored of all the pointless nudity after a good 22 minutes. I mean, heelllo Chrissie Wunna here…i’ve seen, been and soiled all male models. Dancing boys…yester-years news. Guys who uniform in ‘minimum wage’…done that. There’s only so many times one can fantasize over an exotic pool boy or a scruffy gardener. I never understand why the rich, glamourous women would leave their ever reliable husbands for the pool boy? He can’t buy you hair extensions? He just wants you to fasncy him so *puts out* in order to make you want him forever. It’s the male equivalent of being a slag. I’ve noticed that there’s a lot more male gold digging slags out there these days. How gross right? lol. I mean, how unmanly. My ex Jonny was one of these and i can’t help but laugh at the *eww* ness of it all. What was i thinking? Desperation is a terrible thing my Dollies. It happens to the best of us. 🙂 *Flicks through little black book of losers.*
I’m currently loving my kittens right now. They literally sleep in every corner of my house, (‘a kitten in every corner’) like little balls of slutty fluff, whilst i crave salami and affection. I wish they wouldn’t hump each other though. It makes me feel firsky and well in this preggo state i want to stay as virginal as physical possible. I enjoy that contradiction.
So today again i have nothing to do. Tomorrow i venture to Manchester for a book meeting and well i’m believe i’m practicing the art of procrastination. Terrible thing. I’m hoping it all goes well because right now all worky is put off, simply so i can have my baby in peace, before i return to being a total tart.
(Currently watching an infomercial about the JML super slicer. I never understand theses fruit slicing bits of nonsense. Just use a knife. It’s not that hard! They’re rabbiting on about how you now can get some plastic, cheap bit of rectangle for some bargain price that serves the purpose of HOLDING fruit. YOU CAN USE YOUR FRICKING HANDS TO HOLD FRUIT DARLINGS! Why pay a tenner for fruit holding rectangle? What is this world coming too? I can’t help but giggle. We’re so lazy that we can’t use our hands. We have to pay people to buy objects, that will hold our fruit for us. The onyl other acceptable thing for fruit holding, other than your own hands, in my mind is the rim of a cocktail glass. Thankyou JML super slicer…you’re shit. Unless you pay me to say nice things ofcourse. 🙂 )
Other than all that i’m reading a bit of good advice from LA from a gentleman that has known me for some time. In regards to my book and business he states that i am an ‘impulse buy.’ I enjoy that phrase. I’m one of those things that you simply SEE, then immediately WANT, but then fling to one side after Christmas. Kinda resembles my love life really. 🙂 However, i don’t care..i’m all for being an act of ‘impulse’…at least i’m not a ‘fat biog’ (doesn’t have the same ring.)
I think i just need to get into trouble today and do it in Kitten curls. I feel like this inappropriate living barbie doll, that swears and cuddles and winks and nuisances. I was watching this bizarre documentary on baby Beauty Queens, that weren’t real baby beauty queens, they were just 6 year olds that live in Peterbrough and put make up on.
Now, i’m a floozey and even i thought that the whole thing was bit much. I mean if you’re gonna teach you’re 4 yr old to not beable to face the world without her makeup on (rolls eyes)…then at least use MAC. 🙂 Her mother was doing her eyes like she had ten rounds of ‘I will Survive’ to sing in Drag? Let little girls, be litle girls…they’ll learn to be tarts naturally, when the first boy tells them he loves them, for a bit of *whoop-dee.* Yet saying that mums are allowed to mould their child into whatever they so wish. My mum wanted me to be a Doctor…and look at how lovely i turned out. 🙂