Just attempted to make spaghetti bolognese. It’s all fucked up, but looks divine. A bit like me really. Presented so well, but tastes like shit. I hate cooking and having to make food. I dont find it fun at all. I find it tedious and something someone else should be doing. All the boys i date can cook or can afford to buy food. I mean i didn’t bonk a chef for nothing goddamit! Why am i having to cook??? I have far more important things to be doing, like honing my craft of being a ‘Lady of leisure.’ I do it well and that’s because i PRACTICE! By body was built for pleasure, not over sized aprons and sweaty cooking pans.
I dropped my ‘Spag Bol’ but it’s okay as that portion was for someone else. (My Daddy…who’s ill. lol) There’s something like a 5 second rule right? I scooped it up, scraped off all the bad bits and served it up. He said it was deliciousness. But he loves everything i do. (Aww..) He said it was ‘made with love.’ It was really made with unwashed hands, dropped on the floor and scooped onto the prettiest of plates. See girls! Presentation is everything!! It’s not what you serve, it’s how you serve it. (Winks)
I’m not sure why i’m so busy? It’s so annoying as i need time to enjoy my life. I mean that is what i do right, then tell you about it. I thought i wasn’t ‘busy beeing’ it, (never understood that phrase, bees aren’t busy) but i’ve just looked in my diary and i have something or at least 2 things everyday this week and all over the country. How did this happen? How can this be?? It kind of snook up on me. They’ve (not sure who i’m referring to) cleverly tricked me into believeing, i’m still ‘wistfully wooing about’ and being a rebel without a cause. Yet now it seems, i’m a delicious ‘rebel WITH a cause’ (ugh the worst) and a bloody workaholic. I’m sinning. I will age faster. I don’t even have time to tan and i have to make Spaghetti fucking bolognese for sick people. Hold me!
Yesterday i sat next to a purple haired asian granny at a train station, who was reading up on Ronaldo snubbing Real Madrid or something?? She looked at me and gave me that nod of satisfaction. Like she KNEW that i was going to grow into her one day. I smiled at her devilishly and continued to eat my hoison duck wrap. I then saw the dreamest italian boy i had ever seen on Platform 2. We exchanged glances, then i strutted off. I can’t treat myself to such distractions right now. I need to work. Boys are treats i tend to hobby, between jobs. It keeps me occupied and well rather healthy i think? Being flirty does wonders. I keeps you alive. On the ball.
I also saw a blond’ muscle bound hero’ on an opposite train to Nottingham. We were on separate trains, but our windows were facing one another. He looked up, excitedly smiled and then tried to signal his number at me with his fingers. My train decided to immediately ‘zoom’ off. (Haha! )That was a short lived relationship. But funnily enough not my shortest. I then got a text that read’ Do you want to chew on my willy, like it’s gum?’ I once said this to a boy mid-arguement, (that i was going to chew on his willy like it was gum and ‘clack’ it my mouth, whilst blowing fleshy bubbles.) I’m rubbish at threats when i’m all heated. I usually chose violence, so i’m not sure why i took the humourous route? When i’m mad, all anyone does is laugh. I’m like a 5 ft 2 (i get smaller) angry asian, over eyelashed, boobied doll. I huff and puff and stomp my feet! (The more you laugh, the madder i get!) Then i swear and abuse you like you are worthless. It’s awful, but i get away with it because i’m ‘so cute!’ Cute mad, always works girls!!! Use it to your advantage!!! Boys go weak at the knees!! Look good when you fight. They also always submit to that power.