Mini Mez and Bastards

Woke up to party poppers being ‘popped’ over my bed, to apparently ‘shock’ me into action. It’s the act of bastards, but I LOVE it!! Great way to wake up. It fooled me into ‘good times,’ and made my body believe that better things were happenning away from dreamland. I used to live with a bunch of boys in LA, who would wake each other up by shoving fresh wasabi up each others noses, slap each other with leather belts or ‘teabag’ each other. (Which is the art of pulling your sweaty ‘nutsack’ out of it’s home and placing it onto someone’s face.) Sounds a bit homo-erotic, but you’ll have to take that up with them. I love a good jackass.

I wish i had a ‘Mini Me,’ a mini version of ME. It would have to be exceedingly mini though, as the life sized version of me is only 5 ft 4 in heels. It would sip cocktails and verbally abuse people, have a boob job, and totter around in leopard print push up bras. (Classy!) But ah…it is merely a distant dream.

It’s really early and i’ve already been tanning, exercised, been groomed, gone shopping, and i’ve realised that my life other than the ‘stares’ is a misty haze of continuous ‘come on’s.’ Not matter where, no matter who…no matter what, i am being hit on via all the marvellous methods you delicious males decide to come up with…and i am finding it HILARIOUS! Some are shy and sweet, some try to be evil, some try to trick me, some use the ‘sucking up’ apporach, some say it all with their eyes, some (only in LA) dangle out their cars, some follow me, and some do it via email or instant message. I’m use to it now (sounds conceited, but it’s true.) So i find it hilarious and often cute. Apart from the dirty perverted ones, or the ones who are just rude. (I had like a 15 year old boy ask me whether i ‘was on any cock,’ tonight.) Disgusting!

I always wonder why people aren’t intimidated by my sheer utter beauty and therefore can’t possible find the courage to come up to me and try to charm the pants off me. It never happens. Men are straight in there with Me. I must have one of those auras that say ‘come here sailor’ or an appauling amount of desperate sexuality dancing across my face. (My mother is laughing…not sure why, as i’m sure some ‘slaggy’ behaviour went down, in the making of Chrissie Wunna.)

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