If in doubt…Weave it out!

Just got home after my trip to Liverpool to see a ‘Handsome’ (who i’m gonna tell you all about in the next blog) and a baby sized shopping spree in Doncaster, due to a sheer need of retail therapy and the fact that the people that bred me (Mother and Father) were there and i needed a ride home. Woohoo! (It was hilarious actually, because i was at the Frenchgate Center, and i found my Dad asleep, like a beautiful old man, sat in a chair, in a fedora, near the travel section and some weirdo upstairs in Waterstones. A great deal of Wunna fans were out. It was actually oddly ‘crazy’ busy today in the mall. I kinda didn’t care too much, (don’t worry i waved and  smiled,) then tapped my Daddy awake and sat on the green carpetted floor, like a child (with AMAZE MUCH HAIR) and i told him about the ‘boy.’ (I can talk to my parents about everything. He actually gave me a great deal of sound advice. He’s like Mr. Miyagi! But without the karate.)

Okay, so i have new hair. The old extra inches has really done the trick. My choice of hair extenders was a Lady called ‘Promise’ (who i find hilarious) and a placed called ‘Talking Heads’ in Doncaster. I have amazing hair. It’s ridiculously long, ever flowing, jet black and has viscious Va Voom. It’s actually straight too. I don’t think i have had a better time at a salon. Everyone in that place, is fantastic. It took 3hrs to get my hair weaved in, therefore as we know, this little Glamour Puss needs to be entertained. There is NO WAY, i can sit in a chair for that long, without booze and be delightful. After 5 minutes, i was demanding cups of tea, a radiator, a Tv to watch music videos, a few magazines, compliments and answers about everyones life. I was sat infront of a pretty pink, extremely glamourous mirror, DEMANDING and being called a ‘spoilt bratt,’ (lol) whilst making the girls call their secret crushes in the name of Valentines day. I love them.

I love my hair. I love the girls. I’m definitely marking it as one of my favourite places to pamper. Infact, men don’t understand how much we groom ourselves for them. The place was filled with a frequent trail of young ladies all dolling up, getting a spray tan, getting a new hair do, having a pluck, a rub down or a bunch of rubbish advice from me. I love to watch people being pampered. It makes me happy. It’s sooo goddamn ‘Ooh laa,‘ much.

Anyway, at first when i walked in, everyone was giving me that look, where they think they’ve seen you before, yet daren’t talk to you. I’m used to it now…and think it’s cute. I was sitting in my swizzle chair, whilst ‘Promise’ was doing all sorts of magic to my hair. (At that point i looked like a Fraggle…I had hair all over the place. Real hair. Fake hair. ALL hair…If you had it..it was sprouting out of my head. They didn’t half give me the 10* treatment. I loved it.) Anyway, finally a head poked around a corner with a sandwich and then a plan to find out how they knew me had been placed. I loved it. They went with the ‘Have you ever watched Paris Hiltons British Best Friend?’ Luckily for them i’m an attention whore, and spurted out ‘I was on it…‘ 3 seconds before the poor lovely had even got her sentence out. Hahaha. God, help my sorry arse. But i do enjoy getting noticed. It’s just nice innit. I worked hard for that bit of ‘Look at me.’ LOL.

Had a wonderful time, met the most delicious women. Found out all about their secret love lives (lots of affairs with men who didn’t tell them that they werer married.) Then i got a text from ‘Boy in liverpool,’ who was gettin gout of work early. I was so excited to see him, that i pretty much MADE ‘Promise’ go faster…and boy did she!! There was utter panic, to background Hip Hop tunes. Hair everywhere. Brushes flying. I even think sweat dripped. I had told them ALL about my date…so they wanted me to look amazing.

I was tragic, i spent the whole ‘weave in’ delivering my rubbishly witty sense of humour. Luckily ‘Promise’ is thick skinned. At one point i was swizzling on the pamper chair, shouting ‘ME! ME! ME! GODDAMIT!!’ I love people with the same egotistical banter as me. It’s hilarious! I don’t know how i get away with it. Yet unfortunately being Chrissie Wunna means i’ll push it as far as i’m allowed too.

I winked. I pouted. Then i through money at them. (Just take it. Just take it.) Then flew off to the train station to get my pretty pout to Liverpool, to see boy. I wish i set off earlier now. It actually takes ages. But whatever, i got there an dhad my hair extented for my date. LOL. Oh dear me! I actually didn’t realize i had busted out of my dress on the train, so i was sat in a seat, eating a cheese and pickle sandwich, wondering why all these pervies were glaring at me? I kept throwing them daggers and looks of ‘What ARE you looking at??’ I had my whole tit out and didn’t even realize. All out. My left one…whilst i was peacfully nibbling on a cheese and pickle sandwich.

I travelled my way to Liverpool. (2hrs it was. But i didn’t care. I was terrbily excited and just wanted to get there already.) Was met at the train station by Mark Byron, who had smuggled a bottle of rose’ with him. We cuddled…we found safety pins, and then he walked me to my hotel to get me ready (Code for : ‘DRUNK’) for my date….

To be continued…( I will tell you that Liverpool is the friendliest place i have ever been. I LOVE IT!!) I woke up in bed, being cuddled by a  hot ‘Handsome-yum yum’ at the Marriot, feeling wonderful ( meaning still a bit drunk.) I can’t wait to blog it…but for now…i’m being told i’m going to Nandos with my Family. I loved my time with ‘BOY!’

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