It’s ALL about *Moments*

You can tell if i’ve been anywhere, simply due to the fact that i’m now leaving evidence wherever i venture….which is what i like to call, and i can because i’m Chrissie Wunna, Ultimate Glamour puss extra-ordinaire, BAD BAD FORM! I’m naughty, quite quite devilish, but the key to being naughty is that you have to make sure you are getting away with everything…flawlessly, sexily and with so much Wunna charm that even the stoniest hearts are melted with a single *look.*

I’m being clumsy and i’m never clumsy..apart from that one time when i fell into an Ibiza foam party accidentally. Oh and when i fell onto a pavement drunk in Kensington (but i was in pink and diamonds…therefore surely that trumps the fall) and then finally when i was once giving  an Essex boy a lap dance, and fell into a mirror, after breaking my heel, followed by seductively hitting my head on a nearby wall, then spilling his beer, all over the carpet. I tried to continue to be sexy, but i couldn’t stop pissing myself…and i do mean laughing, as ofcourse weeing is an extra £20. lol

What i was trying to say was, you know if i’ve been anywhere simply because you will see a random smear of *orange* on a wall, a door, a body, or a life..followed by a glittery, baby pink, lip gloss smudge, from my *pout,* be it on a glass, a cigarette butt, a cheek, collor, or well i kiss a lot of things…so i don’t want to scare you. *Wipes pout off midget slave* But yeah…yesterday i tried to pretend i wasn’t somewhere, where i quite obviously was…my *orange/pout* gave me away. I’m a foolish little trollop of Dollicia. I need to stop needing to lean on things and kiss things. Glamour puss rule: Leave NO evidence of your jiggery pokery. Unless ofcourse you need a bit of a reputation *boost* then by all means do it for attention and a history of ‘ooh to the OH laa.’

Other than that, i’ve decided i want to have a pool party…but i don’t have a pool, or the weather for one. I just watched the o2 advert and yes i need to throw a night time pool party, in a giant heated pool, preferably NOT in England, and the water must be lit pink, and the pool filled with a million rubber duckies…some with cockatil umbrellas jabbed into them. I’ve also just seen my friend ‘Jazz’ (@jazzrocket) on another phone commercial, nodding and smiling. I Liiikey like like. To top that off, i’ve had abuse from Boyband Jonny…but whocares,we all get it and it’s just a *shrug* off and along with trying for a baby, and wanting a wine, i’ve decided that i don’t want a wine at all, and that from now on i’m only going to drink champagne.

Now, it’s come to my attention that boys believe i’m a bit of a high maintenance diva much…and i’m quite the opposite. (I’m not the opposite, but i’ve had to level down in order for boys to feel more comfortable. You never want a boy to feel fully comfortable, because then they stop the ‘effort’ making.) However, what have i been thinking!, all this time ?! If men think that i’ll be an ‘oh so lovable’ diva…then surely i could get away with being a bit more demanding, because they would pretty much expect it from me. I like the finer things in life, and have alwaysmanaged to  pay for them…and infact also pay for the boys who like to tamper with ‘better future,’ but can’t affod to, unless they are my other half. (Annoying. Don’t do it girls. I don’t do it now..) Anyway, my new plan is to only drink champagne. If i ask for it, they’ll probably get it me. Or if i buy myself some then they will have to buy me a top up, in order to not look lame. 🙂 (I love my logic.) The reason i’m doing this has simply been stirred on by the fact that a good chick friend of mine said, ‘You’re too nice. If i were you, i’d be milking it.’ Don’t sell yourself short girls. Boys will call you everything under the sun…but the boys that do…are just boys that can’t yet look after you the way they wish they could.

What else? Loverboy and I are still going super strong, more in love than ever. We did have a baby -sized barney last night, due to me doing what i claimed i never would…make a mountain out of a molehill. It’s because i have PMT. It was our first baby 5 minute squabble…and because i was giving him an *ooh daddio*…if you don’t know what that is..i’ll just say my mouth was full. Anyway, i looked up…and for one second he stopped looking at me, and glimpsed to watch the tv…I got angry!! Then we squabbled for about 8 minutes, then made up and got back to normal quickly before it go a bit *here we go again.* I just felt like it was disrespectful and he tried to argue it with an ‘ it was a moment…a stupid thing i did in a moment. A moment can’t change anything.’

I don’t actually believe that to be true..and ofcourse i voiced it marvellously. I mean i’ve lived lived and i KNOW a *moment* CAN change EVERYTHING. The moment you get knocked over by a car, the moment a bullet hits you, the moment you say something you regret, the moment a child is born, the moment your dream comes true…in Wunnaland *moments* MATTER! But he apologized and we made up. When really i need to apologise, because  i made a giant deal over nothing, due to hormones. I mean i’ve let boys get away with a great deal worse and he’s far too pefect in comparison. We’re dandy now…Like he said, ‘I’ve been there for you since the moment we met..and that counts for everything’…and he’s right…it does. I mean i think of all the loser, user boys i’ve dated who daren’t love me, commit to me, or even express truth due to fear, or infact rather play the childish ‘Game’ of love. I have a boy who will NEVER let me down…well i hope will never.

Anyway as much as i want to continue this banter…i’m actually starving, and Pusses need to eat. Our curves make our stories way more excitng. *Carbs are your friend ladies!*


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