I keep having this recurring dream, where i’m in a Tiki bar (lol..ofcourse,) with the same faces, that I don’t know in REAL life, but know like best friends in ‘dream land.’ (Hahah. Don’t ask!) In this Tiki Bar, there are really exotically, lavish looking cocktails. The one I always see in my dream, is the one that comes in a ceramic, ‘sort of zombie, hula dancer’talldrinky cup…and it ‘moonwalks‘ backwards, around the rim of peoples wooden Tiki tables, as they *wink* at strangers and I watch on.
That’s all normal.
(In my world.)
But last night, I dreamt that Mike, my first husband was there (in this Tiki Bar..He’d hate that) and we were falling back in love, but sexily. (I don’t love him, don’t worry. My dream just wanted me to.) We kept feeling it each other up lovingly and cuddling all the time? It was almost as if he was the ‘key’ to all my life happiness.
Then we went back to a dark hotel and had ‘dream land’ sex. But it felt like we were in New York, high in the sky. I remember looking out of a window that looked over the city.
I got zapped out of that! I *blinked* and everything had disappeared.
…all of a sudden ‘Boyband Jonny,’ who I used to date years ago, straight after the Hilton Show, *popped* up in my dream. He’s Gay now. In fact, he was Gay, all along. He just didn’t realize it, at the time, when he dated me. He mixed up fancying me, for simply finding me fabulous. I’m probably the only girl, he’s ever had ‘half sex’ with. He said, I broke his heart. I didn’t though. I was simply ‘key’ to him discovering himself.
I like Jonny, he’s cool. He was actually a great boyfriend. He wrote me a love letter, when I left in a taxi. I am extremely happy, that HE is happy now, he’s found himself and utter true love.
I don’t mind an unfortunate bit of ‘heart break,’ if it’s helpful.
I do hate it when my exes hijack my dreams!!! Especially,when i’m at a Tiki Bar, (do they not have dream land’ manners.) A Tiki bar, by the way, is my favourite kind of bar in the whole wide world. (If i could own one, I would. Yet, not for profit, just for kicks.)
I want to be able to have my heart broken, storm into my Tiki, BE pissed off, put on my hula skirt, and sip rum out of a flaming fired coconut, with a cocktail umbrella in my hair, as I pull faces and cry.
I’d have to own it, simply because I wouldn’t want to get my ‘sorry, hula, ass’ up and pay my tab , whilst crying. I’d need Tiki minions for that.
It’d make ‘hearkbreak’ much easier.
I just can’t get away from being haunted by my exes. Why??
STUPID CUPID, you’re A REAL MEAN, guy.
I’m even getting tattoos shortly, to both celebrate and at the same time REMIND ME of things that happened to me this year…
AGAIN, I’ve had a big year of change and I need to remember it. I want to remember it. So I’m going to Tattoo it.
(I haven’t had a tattoo in a million years.)
I was telling Ruby, in bed, last night…and even SHE *paused,* laughed and said..
‘Oh my GOD! Don’t get THAT ONE!!!’
She’s SEVEN! Hahaha. She looked at me like I was ‘whacked.’
Hurrah! Flaming Coconut Drinks for everyone!
Yesterday, I was doing bits of Christmas shopping, at The Frenchgate Centre, in Doncaster, and I decided to go on the ‘Put £1 in it’ massage chairs.
I love a massage.
I love a moment, where you can just hit *pause* and relax for a second, during the bustle. That’s why I used to love Prosecco Pit Stop. (Which no longer exists.)
Woe is me….
BUT, OH MY GOODNESS!
I haven’t actually been on a massage chair in YEARS. Let me tell you. They HAVE IMPROVED!!
I’m sat there, slightly awkward, slightly in public, slightly okay with it though. I’m used to winging an awkward situation and making it look glam. (Hilton taught me well.)
The money goes in the slot and HOLY SHIT, that CHAIR, MADE LOVE TO ME.
It caressed and moaned and rubbed and loved. It oozed. It cared. It romanced and it danced.
THEN…OUT OF NOWHERE…
THE massage chair STARTS ******* BATTERING ME. It starts PUNCHING MY BACK with glee. Then BASHING MY HEAD, FROM SIDE TO SIDE. (Haha.) It starts SQUEEZING THE LIFE, out of my little Asian ribs …and WORST OF ALL…EMBEDDED IN THE CHAIR, MUST HAVE BEEN AN ANAL THUMPER…
SOMETHING KEPT RISING UP, IN THE CHAIR AND THUMPING ME UP THE BUM, BUM….
I couldn’t make it stop and I kept having to pretend, everything was lovely, because I was in public and my daughter was stood next to me. LOL
Do I just have this affect on everything!?! Nothing can just LOVE ME FOREVER, without aggressively Anal thumping me? It started so ‘steadily.’ It loved me. IT DID!!! Then just went MAD and started being hateful or horny????
THEN, when the abused had finished, the chair went on to *SQUEEZE* by legs to death (and my legs are pathetic like Bambi…But luckily, it all suddenly *stopped.*
BUT my legs had got TRAPPED!!! (Hahaha)
WHAT THE ******* IS MY LIFE!!!
I thought the deal was that I only had to ‘suffer’ through the LOVE part of my existence…NOT the ACTUAL other bits of actual LIFE TOO!
I put FIFTY SHADES TO SHAME.
Who needs, a RED ROOM? In fact, who needs a fucking husband!?!
I want another go!!!
Ruby was there trying to free my legs, but laughing so hard, she was in tears. MY MUM KNEW, bad stuff was going to happen to me, so instead of protecting me, she decided to FILM the horror.
I’m sure she’s secretly like, ‘I paid shit loads of money to put you through school, you WILL become a STAR, even if I have to FORCE IT, film it and get the insta likes FOR YOU!!’
Then I get home, needing 72 wines, a bit of calm and a spot of telly and all that’s on is a ‘Come Dine With Me’ episode with a Farmer, who has made everyone horny with BEETROOT, by fireworks and an ex body building Geordie, in a purple towel, who’s baked a pie?
I LOVE ‘COME DINE WITH ME.’ (I once got asked to go on the show, but didn’t go on it, because I didn’t want to cook for everyone…which obviously is the whole point. Haha.)
I don’t even cook for my own children, let alone strangers. (Ruby at 7, could probably be a fine dining, food critic, she’s eaten out THAT much.)
Bottom line, I was passing time before ‘X Factor,’ followed by a dose of ‘I’m a Celeb.’
After the massage chair, I wasn’t in the mood for watching pies being made…I either needed a documentary on GOD, TO heal my broken soul, like a prayer. OR just go the other way and find something on the lines of ‘Debbie Does Dallas.’
This time next week, I’m on FIRST DATES!!!
I’M ON FIRST DATES, NEXT MONDAY!!!
I actually can’t wait to watch tonight’s episode. It’s almost like a starter, for my ‘next week’ main! 😉