Good Morning London

Well here we are at Monday. I’ve been to approximately 4 meetings that will determine my future already, armed with an ‘Ooh laa’ to die for and a rather snotty nose. I’m feeling 50% better, yet just in need of a lie down. And no…haha…i don’t have swine ful. It seems i just had THE flu, with a really delicious hang over…hence the vomitting part. I have still actualyl lost my voice though. Well it’s all raspy and husky, and due to a bunch of drunks telling me it was sexy, (even though i sound more like a tranny) i’m using it to my advantage….for money. ūüôā Infact, why do men find women with raspy ‘broken down’ voices sexy? I went from sounding like a Bimbo to sounding like a Man. How does thata make me more attractive to a man? Anyway, i’m don with sounding like a HOT SEX ¬£1.50/min phone line.¬†I want my voice back and i WANT IT NOW. *Throws tantrum-winks-pops out of bra*

Anyway, let me take you to a better time! Sunday morning 6.20 am. I’m on the night bus home, the number 29 to Camden, with Jonny sat to my right, and a boy who tragically wants me to call him ‘Mr.Taurus’¬† to my left. They have the same boots on, they banter about who has the best boots on, we talk briefly about sex and how at one time Jonathan had made blood trickle from places that blood should not trickle from when it isn’t your ‘time of the month’ and well i ADORE both these gentlemen, so i couldn’t really ask for better bus company home. We’d been partying all night around Central. We did the usual ku Bar, Pre bar, then otped for heaven…infact, it started off being an odd night, and ended up being okay. I had fun.Infact, i’ve spent the last week partying with Jonny, almost every day. He juggles chicks.

Before i found myself on the bus, i found myself with ‘Mr.Taurus,’ Jonny, a Brummie called Fabien, a tall posh white gay, who was desperately begging Jonny for a phone number, and couldn’t for the life of him roll up a cigarette, lots of beautiful people that we had befriended in the Departure lounge at Heaven and a giant bag of samosas. i remember us causing so mych chais in the newsagents that sell samosas. They kept monitoring our every move…well not mine…more¬†Taylors, and simply because he didn’t want¬†him to steal drunken Indian snacks. Haha.

¬†The Saturdays had performed there that night and at one point we were sat in this little roped off bit with Vanessa, (who was so trashed she had to get carried out of the club reluctantly) and that Rachael chick from X-factor. I only liked Jedward on that…so although i applaud her achievement and hope she takes it further, i kinda just want my delicious irish twins! (I need to lick them.) Far too much happened that night for me to blog. I can’t get through it all…but it was the same out [arty party, dance around, get a bit tipsy, say HI to everyone that notcied me, say HI to everyone that didn’t. Had fun…had great boobs, remembered everyone obsessing about my eyelashes, and WELL IT’S ONLY JANUARY OF 2010 AND JONNY HAS ALREADY MANAGED TO GET SLAPPED TWICE THIS YEAR!! He got slapped by his friend Matt, then slapped by a little small gay who wants to cut hair.

Had a few blue pitchers of booze, that are although cheap annoying to carry. got my hair attached to an Umbrella that dragged me with it. Got rained on devastatingly, yet still trailed through the streets of Soho like a Champion. I can’t really remember much else. It was a low key night at first, until i got drunk. I dont think Saturdays are fun nights out in Central. It’s crammed with sweaty people and slags. I don’t enjoy cramming, I’m claustrophobic.

My night actually began in the day, where i met up with Jonny at the Black Cap for nachos at a late lunchy time of day. We had wine, had a natter then made the executive decision to go out. I actaully met soo many of you delicious treats out and i adore you. Plus the advantage you have this time, is that if you met me Saturday i wasn’t pissed up, therefore i will totally remember you the next time. Lol.

I can’t really tell you much else. Except i hated waiting in line, but i flet i got enough attention. There we’re lots of¬† bitchy Queens. haha. I don’t mind them really, as long as they’re not being bitchy around me and a cute little drunk who is a DT teacher..all kinds of off his face. I remember reminding him that he is educating the youth of our nation. He pulled a face, had his picture with me then fell over his own feet, due to extensive wine intake.

Oh and i just a quickie picky…I wanted to clear up the fact that i don’t have EVERYTHING done…lol. I only have fake boobies, and fake eyelashes. For some reason (and i get the Glamour pussy Dolly look…i enjoy excess…i can’t help it…i love to look a bit draggy) lots of my cherubs believe all of me is nipped, tucked. plucked, sewn, or glued on…Hahaha. Just my boobies, and my eyelashes..everything else Kittens, is the REAl DEAl *pout- hair toss*

*Flash back* At the end of the night, i remember sitting in on a bench in The Departure lounge, glaring at a painting. ¬†The ‘GO HOME NOW’ lights had just gone up, and i recall being called a Dickhead by Jon, for saying that a painting of Kate Moss was Beyonce.

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