Red Boots, Babies & Tom Craine

Good morning, my little treats of life ball!

Now, I don’t know why I thought dressing up like a budget Lil’ Kim on the nursery run, on my day off, would make anything much easier? Obviously, the logic in my mind is jaggered. The other Mums (yes, with a capital ‘M’) tend to do it in their work clothes or comfortable, smart casual choices. Today..and maybe because I had Cosmo’s last night, i decided that because it was my day off, I was glamming it up and going for life with a ‘KA BOOM, BANG, STRUT.’ I’m naturally quite ‘glammy’ anyway and I don’t mean ‘glammy’ as in ‘Code for: Vain.’ I truly do mean that being a glamour puss is utterly installed in my system, it meanders through my blood like a golden river of ‘oooooh’ and the reason why it’s natural is because I simply don’t know why? It’s like Winona Ryder nicked all that stuff from a department store, when we all knew that she was well and truly loaded. She didn’t know why? That’s like me and glamour pussing…we just go hand in hand. (Without the ‘five finger discount.’ I don’t know why that sounds rude when I say it, because it’s not rude at all? That’s a whole other issue though.)

Okay, so today I’m ON IT. I’m working hard. I’m sorting out the eyelash business, building the empire, looking through the events that lovely folk wish for me to blog at and thundering my brand through office doors..with a *wink.* (And a ‘pleeeeeease.’) I’ve been auditioning, i’ve been researching and i’ve been..well i think it’s simply called ‘getting my shit together.’ I’m excited and well know kitten is more determined than I, when it comes to getting what I want. πŸ™‚ Right now, I want a jolly bundle of well deserved success, that I myself have worked hard for. I’ve got ’50cent’ on in the background, meaning i’m feeling ‘Gangsta.’ When I feel ‘Gangsta’…things just seem to go better…or is that after booze? I can’t remember? πŸ˜‰

So, you get it, as I rambled on about it enough yesterday. I’m working hard to promote my brand.

HOWEVER, last night, as I was dawdling around my house, plonked in the posh part of Ponty…totally in leopard print pyjamas…i picked up this month’s Cosmopolitan. (A magazine that I am a huge fan of. I mean, when I blogged for The Clothes Show Live and knew that I could snag a free one..I rushed to the stand, weaving past what seemed like every ‘Made in Chelsea’ cast member, which is totally unlike me, as i’m one to stop and ‘SELFIE’ with everything possible…Let alone posh boys who drink cocktails on the telly.) But yeah…excuse the rambling…i got my free copy because I wanted it that much! To be honest, that wasn’t just because I was just a huge fan, it was also because my inner ‘Yorkshire’ got the better of me…and well up here…we like to get things for FREE. HONESTLY…. we want ‘owt for nowt.’ I mean, my Yorkshire matey Emily, who i did the Ann Summers Documentary with, were sent to an erotic trade show. We didn’t buy anything but came back with bags full of free lube and cock rings. HAHAHA. To us, it was like gold. YORKSHIRE!

Anyway, what i wanted to tell you was that I was sat around midnight, on my sofa, in my living room, in my leopard print Primark comfies…thumbing through Cosmo…whilst drinking a Cosmo. I was skimming it, loving it and wondering how I could get my eyelashes on the beauty pages.

HOWEVER, then something caught my eye…and it was this article..which is actually a column called ‘Sex & The Single Guy’ written by Tom Craine, (It’s on Page 33, if you want to go and find it.)

He sort of looked quirky, smart and boyish, which was enough to make me read on and skip the the ‘girl version’ of him on Page 32. (Oh shush, i’m single…as soon as I see ‘boy’ and ‘single’ i’m there.)

So I read it all and the article is about Twitter and how you can totally pull on there, which I sort of agree with, yet i’ve never pulled on Twitter because people are too shy to talk to me and i’m too shy to talk to them on Twitter, when it comes to making the first move via Direct Message. I mean, we all know that i’m not remotely shy by nature…yet I am on Twitter when it comes to that dodgy area of insecurity. As I always think i’m going to say something stupid and forward they’re going to be lovely back, yet not actually want to hang out, so fob me off with some really ‘nice’ sod off. πŸ™‚ Β I just can’t do it..so I just ‘wait and see’..and people on Twitter must ‘wait and see’ also because i’m on a great deal of social media sites and on every other channel of social media my inbox is FULL to the brim with willy pictures, lovely messages from boys or odd proposals from men who want to be my slave? Yet on Twitter…there’s none. My cupboards are completely bare, when it comes to love. I’ve never once had a guy message me a ‘You’re beautiful, let’s hang out sometime’ on Twitter…EVER, which is a shame really, as Twitter (aside from this blog) is my favourite, like I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t Tweet. πŸ™‚

I want Tom’s mojo!

(See! That sounds rude as well! I can say something normal and make it sound ‘Playboy Mansion’ by accident.)

Tom…is now…well…he probably knows he is, yet takes it with a dash of humility and charm…everyone’s secret crush, because I read the whole of ‘Sex & The Single Guy’ at midnight, before rushing off to bed (I know, very Cinderella of me) and now…i’m hooked! I’m HOOKED! I can’t live without him, his dating column or this edition of Cosmo! It was like everything he said was perfect, so easily well written and fun, yet informative. I mean it sucks to all us chicks, that he went on a date with ‘Ethel’ and it all went well that they could potentially get to ‘Date 2.’ But read it…you’ll be hooked. I got all obsessive over it. i even tried to read it in the dark. He is definitely my new favourite find! I now intend on stalking him. Join me!

What a talent!

Okay, I’m off to do the rest of Wednesday in these ridiculous ‘over the knee’ red boots. I actually look quite good in them…but it certainly screams ‘Desperate single mum.’

Love you.

Chrissie

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.