I want to sit in a tea cup like Pixie Lott, but i want to be naked and draped in furs and diamonds, whilst being carried by muscle bound heros, who wrongly believe they have a future with the Glamour Puss, as i pout, hair toss and sip my mocha martini under the stars! (Aww, i have the most beautiful kittens. One of them is being rather seductive and licking her lady parts like she KNOW
S how to get free dinners from a ‘handsome.’)
Other than that bit of merriment, i’m currently really missing my HOT Gay Samuel. He’s like a major part of my life and well with me being far far away, i haven’t been able to *cuddle* (code for ‘feel’) him up. I miss our jiggery pokery soo much and our boozey bits of laughter and dickhead dancing, as we push people out of way for kicks. (AAaah bliss!) I’ve also managed to stay awake during a lady trying to show me how to make scented lavender hanky pouches, to hang in my wardrobe. Now, i’m not being funny or anything (totally about to be funny) but i’m not that kinda girl. My wardrobe smells delicious already…like Chanel and Primark in one. It’s sexual *catwalk walks her outfit for you* i don’t need lavender pouches? But i was respectful and mainly because i loved her and her quirky ways of ‘ooh laa.’ I mean she was attired all *goody goody, I might teach Primary school children,* then under her white shirt, she had a hot pink, and black, lacey brazier on. I enjoy that she tried to disguise her slagginess under a rather *snooze fest* carpet of Lavender pouch making. I’m not one to ever judge a book by it’s cover, because i love ALL people…even girls that can’t function in heels. *Puzzled face.* (Infact, i take that back..IF YOU’RE A GIRL…you should beable to function in heels. I’m a Glamour puss, i can pushwheel barrows, run marathons and knit cardies…in heels. And ofcourse…i don’t do any of that!! My job is winking at strangers and thinking i’m sexy. It works for me. leave me be.) What i wanted to say was i’ve found in life that just because a ‘being’ acts sweet, refined and lovely…doesn’t mean they are. And just because a ‘ being’ acts slaggy, common and not so lovely…doesn’t mean THEY are. It’s what people don’t say that matters sometimes. I know people well and can read them fully and after 8oo words. I know people because i’ve encountered soo many, with me being rather rather social thorughout my life. I’ve sat on a wall with a homeless man in LA for an hour and talked to him about his life. He had one leg and told me my laughter was like a butterfly. I watched people snub him for being an apparent lesser being. I then did lunch with a deliciously royal man, under a giant chandelier…he told me he wanted to *butterfly* parts of my anatomy that even i didn’t know i had, whilst his WIFE was away. I watched people run around him like he was Godly. Hmm?
Anyway, i made pink lavender pouches..big ones that i stuffed far too muchly, then thought it was hilarious to hang them from my ‘Lady Part’ and say ‘look i made balls…proper hangers!’ It’s really not that funny at all, now i think about it? Yet at the time, it was a blast. Infact, it actually must be weird being a boy, having to walk around with *cloppers* dangling between ya legs, that squidge together with every noble stride. We all love balls. Aren’t they funny little things. They’re like bald meaty hamsters, caught in skin sacks, trying to run away from their own bodies. Hilarious! I’m always trying to un away from men…they come at me with frightful eyes of ‘hubba hubba’ and with the best Bimbo scared face and pair of hot pink heels, I totter away as fast as my little legs can take me…which is really not very fast, hence why i always end up in a compromising ‘missionary.’ 🙂
Last night, i did red wine and indian food with ‘Loverboy’ under the stars. We’re really really close now, to the point where he’s irreplaceable. Incase, you didn’t know we did go to the same school, when we were younger. But i was 5 years older than him. We went to a little Private school, so everyone kinda knows everyone….it’s small. We were talking last night and how weird is it, that every time we innocently looked at each other at school, and talked he was looking at his future wife to be, in years to come. He was 11 and i was 16. We’re now 24 and 29. After years of *life.* He’s lived a very nomal existance, i’ve lived a very dangerously glamourous one, we were accidentally brought together. I feel like i’m put on this earth to pove to you that ANYTHING can happen!! I’m living a fairytale.
Anyway, before i got home last night i did have a little bit of a cry. (I hate that…haha, because it’s always rather dramatically embarrassing. I can’t really say what it was about…but nothing serious. I’m an emotional girl.) I gently walked away from the car and into my home. He hadn’t driven off and sent me a text, followed by a call telling me to ‘come back outside.’ (He really cares about how i feel.) I walked outside, got back into the car, we talked and cuddled and i cried a little more. (Lovely, lovely.) Then i felt better and went to bed.
I’ve woken up feeling GREAT! I hope you do to my darlings. I had about a gzillion bbm messages last night…and i didn’t even notice. (Losing my touch much.) I’m happy, i’m not hippy, but this bitch can really shake. Find your *shimmie*..make your world. I’ve got to get ready. I have wok…wok? How racist of me! I meant WORK tonighta…ALL night. *Wink-Wiggle-Bra pings off-Pout.* Bare with me…i LOVE you.