I’ve staggered in this morning at 9.34am in a blue, ‘Tropical’ dress, that was far too long for it’s own good, that i had been wearing for three (or was it two) days straight, and during one of the best weekends ever. After my usual Saturday of shopping…(dresses were purchased, bacon sarnies were had)..Loverboy asked me to come over and play. (We always oblige when we properly fancy people, don’t we. Story of our tragic lives.)
For the past 2 days i’ve played ‘wife’ and bizarrely, it’s been GREAT. We’ve spent full entire days together and well it’s actually working out! ( I know, even i’m shocked, at my own wonder!) Oh and happy 6 month anniversary to us! (I’m usually good at doing the ‘wedding’ part of the ‘wife’ deal…but the marriage parts never fails to confuse me. Before you all start…no we’re not married.) Loverboy’s a clever little so & so. He eases me into his future, through trickery. Works every time. I’ve never woken up to a boy and been puzzled by the fact that they just want me and forever and because, they actually truely love me. I mean, Cupid usually toys with my heart strings with thumby games of ‘Fooled you bitch. Ha ha..not at all funny.’ Yet this time *pinches herself* it’s actually for real. I played wife and i was rather ACE at it. IN YOUR FACE! (Why am i currently wishing it was Christmas?)
I can sum my weekend up in the simpliest of words: ‘Work, Photo shoot meetings, shopping, wishing i was more tanned, steak, sex and Pete.’ Add lots of love, and being hit on by a 3 year old, who had just discovered women and you have it all. (He was sat on a highstool stool next to me at three years of age, wondering what all my ‘girl parts’ were? We had a similar conversation to one i have had many a time in a bar, with a drunk. It was Greatness. Boys are boys, be they 3 or 33. Then he unfortunately needed to leave for being inappropriate and started crying because his sister was eating his ‘Jazzles.’ 🙂 )
Other than all that, my blue dress from the tropics (by ‘tropic’s i mean ‘New Look’) took up most of my weekend. I’m usually quite a Goddess in long dresses, yet i don’t think i’ve tripped over anything more. I’ve never sworn at a piece of fabric in my entire LIFE, more than at this dress. When your own robe is hindering your *strut* through life, you know you’re in trouble. ‘Hello self destruction. May i be your friend? The good life won’t have me.’ Saying that the only long dresses i’ve ever worn have been wedding dresses, so maybe the *tripping* is caused by my delicious inner fear of ‘forever.’
I’m really happy right now. Infact, so happy that nothing can pick away at it. It’s solid. I’m happily complete and armed with a loving deliciousness. One that’s sooo strong that it could only possibly be formed from struggle and i fi’ve doen anything in life…it’s struggled. All the way through it…if i might add. I’ve sort of high heeled stumbled my way through Hollywood, breaking down emotionally, lost, confused and insane, under the misconception that i was happy. I struggled, mentally, emotionally, financially and physcially. But i fought with that old inner strength that everyone says i have somewhere inside me. (It pops out when i least expect it to..sort of like my Facebook chat pervs…) and funnily enough, it worked. I got through it and with trophies! (Okay, no trophies…just bruises and herpes.)
It took some time, i do admit. I mean, on March 6th 2010, my life changed and finally for the better. I finally got to *breathe* and be handed my happy ending. (Boys are currently trying to play ‘truth or dare’ with me on Facebook. Why? As if i don’t know, it’s just a trick that ends in ‘do you do webcam?’ *Yawn.*)
I sat on a large leather sofa last night, in a ginormous ruby warm living room, with my handsome’s head laid upon my lap. (He was still attached to his head. I do mean like a loving couple, and not like ‘i eat people.’) We were watching a movie, something really simple..really normal. Yet i’d never been so happy. I’m finally getting to live a rather normal existance..that i actually ADORE..One that’s full of love, laughter and wholeness. The actually adoring something ‘normal‘ is BIG with me, as it’s never happened before. I’ve always strived for trouble and excitement. Y’know, that ever so delicious *ooze*of MORE, MORE, MORE! I guess, Loverboy has made me appreciate the simple things in life, that i usually shunned as ‘blah.’ I shunned ‘love & harmony,’ for drunk, red carpetted parties as ‘Blah.’ That’s how lost i was! Yipppeeee! Now i’m in a position where i can have both…a complete balance and well life couldn’t be any better. I’ve never felt so powerful. I’m finally ‘Chrissie Wunna.’ (And bitches, i’m still in sequins.)
But ofcourse, my pretties, all this joy and happiness couldn’t be given to me without a bit of the old ‘hate’ mail. A delicous inbox fluttered with love and the occasional bit of ‘ You utter whore.‘ So ‘Barbara Wagner’ (lovely lady..must be, with all her manners and everything) sent me this bit of adoration, under the subject heading of ‘You’re not all that, trust me:’
‘YOU LOOK LIKE A VERY CHEAP WHORE. WHAT’S THE OLD SAYING YOU CAN’T MAKE A WHORE A HOUSEWIFE’
Like i always say, most people who fall in love and are blessed with a future bambino get a very normal ‘Congratulations.’ I get *read above.* I always think it’s some little 20 something year old girl, hiding under a blanket of ‘fake profile’ who needs to express their sheer innner beauty at me. 🙂 So i calmly replied informing her that the difference between her and I, is simply the fact that ‘I’ (Ultimate Glamour Puss extra-ordinaire) would NEVER send a girl i don’t know the above message, due to respect, decency and politeness. That’s why boys like me more and pretty much why i’m better. #dealwithitbitch (I don’t have time for all this, when there are shirtless boys willing to perfom the Macarena.)
The ‘whore’ part i’ll give her. It happens to the best of us. But the ‘Housewife’ part she can shove up her [insert anything abusive here.] Just because you can’t do ‘floozey’ better than me. Yet i can still probably play ‘Housewife’ off like a championo, (it’s all in the chest) doesn’t mean you have to get all insecure and litter my inbox with ‘blow your house down’ green eyed, irrational behaviour. The answer to your problems is BOOZE. Drink it. You will feel better, maybe even sexy? Infact, d’ya know what? (It’s a bit of a long shot…) But yeah…you might even finally feel ‘whole.’ Lord have mercy! Saying that you’re probably a miserable drunk. At least i KNOW how to shimmie to rum.
I think i’m quite lucky. If that’s the only drama i had to deal with today, then life is pretty good. I’m just tired of people guessing their version of me, building up an incorrect story of malice in their wonderfully creative head and performing their ‘knickers in a twist’ routine at me via inbox. (I’d just prefer it if it was in poetry.)
Anyway away from all that nonsense….I actually felt a bit ill this afternoon. I had to come home and take a nap, simply to recovery from my weekend. I’m not sure recovery naps are the way forward? I had to share an air mattress last night and every time Loverboy (who for ‘can’t get comfy’) moves, i seem to *roll* off my side of the air mattress, all boobies, big knickers and *shocked face.* I bet i looked delicious…with half my makeup *smeared* across my face, one eyelash on, one eyelash off…knickers fit for a tranny. It was pitch black and there i was *toppling* off an air matress, armed with my *bump* and into blue/grey chairs, whilst listening to Pete get all excited about a bit of ‘rumpy.’ Preggo, frigid Chrissie ‘Put out’ twice over the weekend…so he’s one happy chappy.
I’m literally starving. I have to gallop off and find me something to munch on. I oddly need more rest and quite possibly some noodles.