Just got back home after a rather tiring trip to London. I’m exhausted and my body aches from being placed in all sorts of compromising positions. (Ooh La laa.) It feels so good to be back up north. London’s always such a battle, no-one ever cracks smiles. Yorkshire makes me feel like the worlds a safer place…and occassionally littered with Chavtastics. (God my fucking legs hurts!)
So yeah i shimmied on down to ‘Vendome’ last night and you know what , it kinda just put me off going out. I’m over it. All i heard was an on going madness of garage tracks (imagine them getting faster and faster and the club getting blurrier and sweatier.) I was surrounded by too many ‘in my personal space’ bodies of whores, had a bunch of not very good footballers from Essex drink all my booze and well…with an odd burst of neon didn’t really have too much fun at all. My life is no longer about a club scene. I’m getting my shit together. I was with great friends, (well like 2) yet in the complete wrong environment. I much prefer a dinner, or drinks…and yeah a little bit of a dance around, but ‘Vendome’ last night was just horrible. I left early and had a past midnight feast of room service ‘feel good’ food on my bed, with a boy whilst watching disabled people play ping pong…which i insisted were not disabled. (Until it flashed up on the screen.) It was actually way more fun! (Except i kept falling through the gap in the bed. One minute i was there mouthing a 60z ‘yum’ of a burger at 3am, the next minute i was uncomfortably surprised wedged between two cleverly pushed together twin beds, with all kinds of lettuce all over the place.)
However the evening turned out amazing. I ended up having a beautifully romantic ‘shuffty’ a bedroom McFumble, a little bit of ‘rumpy pumpy’ in the early hours of the morning. Just one of those sexy moments that happens by accident, in a dim hotel room light. It was all nakedness, gentle kissing, that turned into ferocious making out, touching and mirrors. (My favourite.)I was really happy. Then it ended with a stare at the ceiling crazy discussion about life, dreams and sacrifices and a sudden ‘shit i have to be up in one hour to fly to fucking Spain!’ I had an ‘otherside of the pillow’ for a short while. I loved it. I felt normal for once.
The best thing about yesterday (apart from the above paragraph) was the fact that i got to meet a man i’m going to call ‘BAFTA.’ I’ve been wanting to sort myself out, heavy heave myself to the next level. I’m finally concentrating on what’s important to me, getting a lot more serious (well as serious as Chrissie Wunna can get) and calling on people like ‘BAFTA’ to aid me through this process of ‘growing up.’ If i wanna make my dreams come true, i’m gonna need guidance, something i very rarely have. I’ve muscled through life on my own, (well the Hollywood part of it anyhow) doing everything MY own way and making it work. Sometimes you just need a little ‘boost’ a little help from random starngers. ‘BAFTA’ met me at my hotel before my big night out and in the lobby bar, which was all deep red, brown and lush, discussed my future, my blog, my life, my world, my everything, witches, porn stars and opinons….Oh and with Mojitos, Coronas and Cigarettes. I’m finally pulling myself together yet keeping it cleverly mad, so i don’t lose my Va Voom. It’s gonna work out. I’m amazed that i’m actually gonna pull this thing called ‘Success’ off. I’m thanking my fucking lucky stars. I’m making the ‘art of living’ rock n roll. I’ve worked really hard and i’m finally gonna prove that it’s all been worthwhile after all….i think? I mean honestly who knows, i might just have a few more mojitos and piss it up the wall, to S Club 7??
I’m changing my angles, my approach, my world and my life, as my audience is an altering each day. (You fussy beggars!) It’s getting exciting and i’m buckling down. I’m strong, feisty, focussed and a pain in your arse….yet luckily it’s worth every single sore moment. Dreams are coming true!! I’m painting this world with a magical ‘ooh laa’ and a tad bit of inappropriate behaviour. (Saucy!) I’ve already been called a ‘Spacker’ a ‘twat’ and a ‘moron’ by my closest friends. Life is good bitches!!!