Tiki Bars, Exes, Massage Chairs & Anal Thumping…

Image may contain: 1 person, smiling

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??


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….


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.







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!



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 actually can’t wait to watch tonight’s episode. It’s almost like a starter, for my ‘next week’ main! 😉







Let’s get Geographic..


I originated from here…

Image result for burma golden land

But was born, here….

Image result for doncaster

I lived here…

Image result for wakefield

and ended up here..

Image result for pontefract

Then life suddenly changed and i found myself living here..

Image result for hollywood

I stayed here for years…but followed a boy here…

Image result for new york

I ended up here..

Image result for new jersey

And after a bit of a stint here..

Image result for Miami Image result for Miami

I went back to safety and found myself here..

Image result for hollywood

Between all this…I did a  while here…

Image result for Thailand Image result for Thailand

Then I came back here…

Image result for Pontefract

To go live here..

Image result for chrissie wunna paris hiltons british best friend BBF house facebook   

Then i moved to…

Image result for London

After a while, i got back here…

Image result for pontefract

You never know where life will take you, be it through love, work, or wonders……you just have to have a rum, cue a glitter fountain and and enjoy it..as something exciting is always just around the corner.

You’re exactly where you are meant to be.


Bed day, Mummyhood & Racism


Bed day! Bed day! Bed day!

I’ve been inundated with a sexy case of the flu. It’s dolloped all over me with a ‘yeah baby-gotcha.’ Yet when you’re a Mum and you have two little winkles to care for, with all of your kitty cat heart, you’re sort of not allowed to have the flu. That’s fine by me. I cooked. I played. I loved. Then when it came to bed rest, I woke up, I fed, I nappy changed through the night. I cuddled. I sang. I did it all the way through until 5am and I guess yeah it was challenging, but it’s the overcoming of challenges that ‘champion’ you with a sense of achievement. So, if you’re a Mum, or even a ‘Daddy of the year’…when you really think you can’t handle it, know that you can. If i can, anyone can! All you have to do is fill your heart with love, or body with gin 🙂 and then make it to the finish line with a smile! 🙂

I’m grateful for Ruby & Junior. So, these days when asked if my cup is half full or half empty, my only response is the that i’m grateful to have a cup. I’m naturally a glamour puss and often i’ve found the roller coaster of my life quite difficult, emotionally. Yet at the end of the day (and I do say this as i’m in my pyjamas, with no work today, slumming it because I finally get to be ill…even though I have still done my face and had chilli con carne for breakfast) that a pretty face gets old…a nice body will change…but a good woman will always be a good woman. I’m that…i’m a good woman and that’s something that even when stripped bare, no-one can take away from me. My natural integrity is good, even though it may not ‘seem’ so to those who don’t know me. But I’ve done life in ‘L’ plates and all over this merry world.  At 32, with two children, i can honestly say..I’m there! *Flings L-Plates off* When it comes to parenting, all you have to do, to be a good parent is to SET THE EXAMPLE. I mean you want your kids to grow up, look back and say, ‘My mum was great, she always did this with me & that with me and always stood strong no matter what..’ Or..’My Dad was a romantic…he loved mum so much, he worked hard too and I want to be just like him.’

Anyway, enough of all that. I’m currently having to arrange a calendar shoot, whilst fluey. Hardly the sexiest combination. But whatever, being a Glamour Puss rocks. I haven’t shot in ages, so it’ll feel good. I’m actually also doing a big shoot for this website, to give you all a bit of an update. I’m a whole different being these days and even though i’m still as GLITZY, I’m certainly far less tragIco.

Christmas is almost here!! My favourite time of year. My birthday a week before. This year is special because it’s my son Junior’s FIRST EVER Christmas and the first Christmas where my little Baby Ruby actually KNOWS what’s going to be going down. She understands Santa, she of course understands presents, she loves the smell of it, the look of it, the merriment and just the basic warmth of it all and simply because I taught her well. So yeah, it’s almost here. Well…its 98 days to be exact, which to me, is a lot. In Wunna Land, things change by the hour, let alone the day, LET ALONE NINETY EIGHT OF THEM. But our local garden centre is filled with Christmas prettiness right now and it has filled my world and in fact Ruby’s world with absolute utter joy! It’s just going to be so wonderful on Christmas Eve getting Ruby excited for the morning  and SO GREAT to be waking up next to them on Christmas day and rushing them to the tree to open all their goodies. I keep replaying it and replaying it over in my head. *Happy face* I don’t know where we’ll be, but nonetheless it will be magical. I really do want to adopt elves this year and simply so I can have them mulling around the joint, all angry and scowly, but still pouring me wine whenever I demand them to.

So, i’ve been writing this blog over hours and simply between blowing my nose, laying around and watching daytime tv and just as I thought the world was a safer place I go through the news and read this;


On Sunday, the first ever Indian-American girl was crowned Miss.America, which I believe is amazing. She’s beautiful. So, she was born in Syracuse, New York, making her an American, yet she is of Indian heritage. Therefore it’s just the same as me being born in England, which makes me British. However, i’m fully Burmese through blood. Innit.

But oh no…people can’t just *clap* and be happy for her big win! No! Instead she is now being called…get this…’a terrorist.’ WTF! Who raised these people? She’s Indian-American, hence why she’s not rocking a Snow White glow of skin colour. All she’s done is work hard, wear a tiara, carry around some flowers, cheerily wave and like bubble baths in the name of happiness, national achievement and love. She hasn’t strapped bombs to her beings and cunningly sat in dark corners wanting to blow the country up.

Get an education you Plonkers! Firstly, if you are one of those Americans who have chosen to be racist- Not knowing that you are actually an immigrant is bad history. Not knowing an Indian from an Arab is bad geography. Assuming that ALL Arabs are terrorists is simply poor judgement and shows a lack of life experience.

Seriously have a read through some of the things they’ve been saying about her in the above link. It’s so terrible, that you can only scratch your head and feel sorry for people who have not had the opportunity to be educated approrpriately.

So in the name of ‘Nina Davuluri,’ the current Miss.America, I think you’re beautiful and certainly not responsible for the 9/11 attacks. Lol. CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING HISTORY!!! #whatnumpties #racismistragic