We got Issues….

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Morning folks!

So, yeah after passing out in utter sleepiness…(I know, it’s not even sexy passing out when you’ve drunk dialed, had too many cocktails and suffered from a broken heart…I was just tired,) I managed to wake up refreshed at 7am Saturday morning.

I rolled over, found everything laid the way it wanted to be laid, realized that I must’ve enjoyed a lay in as it was so Spring Bright outside…and well…I did what every Glamour Puss with a need for attention does…and that was Tweet, look at m Facebook and realise that I didn’t drink my wine. (Which i contemplated finishing.)

Whilst I was a sleep, I guess so much happened? I read a Google search from the boy who wants to be my slave. He had sent me a couple notes on what being a ‘Dom’ was like. HAHAHA. Only I could need notes on such a task. I guess it takes out the thrill of it all for him. But saying that, I’m busy and well ‘boy slave’ is way down my list of ‘to do’s’ right now. But i’m still very flattered…and mainly because i’m an attention whore. It’s weird because people see me as ‘Dommy’ and i’m quite Bubbly Barbie, with a slash of playful lunacy. Yet, i’m highly intrigued as to how people view me, when they read a blog, see a picture, yet haven’t managed to get their life path to properly clash with mine, in person.

Then a guy, I guess it’s a guy on Twitter, who’s named ‘Horny Boy’ (who is quite lovely to me, via his Tweets and that’s the only way I know of him) had sent me a Tweet stating that he was going to do a Chrissie Wunna ‘cum tribute.’ HAHAHA. Now, I have no clue what that is, but i find it hilarious. Lord knows, what it’s going to occur…yet I’m fucking ‘CUM TRIBUTE’ are you? ๐Ÿ™‚ I mean, it’s not even 9am in the morning yet?

Then as soon as I rolled over, skimmed my Tweets and messages, my phone rang and it was ‘the boy.’ He’s just woken up and right on cue, there he was…calling a ‘Wunna.’ (I like that.) We’d both just woken up. I sounded like a drag queen, he sounded like a serial killer ๐Ÿ™‚ and yeah life was good once more. Most humans talk about Spring and birds chirping at 7am. Nope…we talked about nuclear weapons, black people, war, chicken balls, eyelashes, work, paydays and dates….maybe even porn stars? He then told me that I was ‘too posh’ to be ghetto. I CAN BE GHETTO. I say ‘innit’ and drink cocktails in cans! That’s ghetto…it’s bouji ghetto. It’s hip hop McSwiggedy ghetto. It’s swirled in my specialty..glamour. Anything else is chav. ๐Ÿ™‚ And am soooooooo not chav. (Horrid little blighters.) I also told him that in Yorkshire, we call a pint of Stella, a ‘wife beater’ and explained why. He told me he once down a bottle of vodka so now can’t drink it. We all have that drink don’t we? The one that reminds us of being pissed and heartbroken, that we can longer enjoy it. Mine’s tequila. If i ever do a shot of it, I’m flashbacked straight back to LA…it’s the evening…i’m in West Hollwood, at The Abbey, a gay bar, in a green coat and a neon green hat, which had a pink stripe. I’m in neon yellow heels (lol) a short skirt and in pig tails. I felt liek Ryan (who i fancied at the time) didn’t love me, so i drank LOADS, (at his actual work, as he worked there as a bartender, because he wanted to be an actor, but ti was fine as i knew everybody) and i ended up passed out on a merry go around, outside a police station in West Hollywood..after a TEQUILA DANCE. Luckily, THE GAYS and this is why i love them…came to my rescue and saved me. I was picked up by four gay men, gently like i was a goddess in pain and CARRIED to one of their cars. They all drove me home and CARRIED me to the condo that I was living in with Greg, my lawyer roommate…(he did pills) and placed me on the sofa to sleep. One of them even complimented my pedicure. ‘Ooh doesn’t she have nice toes.)

Then Greg made an appearance, a drunken one as he had also gone out on the razzle, but he was just in a pair of white pants. The Gays go excited and well, when i said placed me down safely on the sofa, I just meant chucked me on the sofa, like I was ย DEAD BODY, just to flirt with Greg. It was hilarious. I used to live next door to a guy who in Maroon Five. (I have to type it as the number doesn’t work on my laptop.) He watched them carry me up the drive and just pissed himself laughing a bush.

Anyway, that was one of my nights, of being Chrissie Wunna. ๐Ÿ™‚

Moving on……….

Now, I’m getting ready, well i am read to drive to Doncaster to see my psychic and well usually when I go, i’m all open minded with a ‘tell me what you know’…as i’m never really frustrated, in a dilemma or anything. I just enjoy it, it comforts me. Cherry (my psychic is amazing.) Today however, i have questions. But whenever she reads me she tells me the rest of my life is charmed and that i have the best bright future ever, to the point where in which she hasn’t done such a great reading in months. I think i told you that though?

Alongside that, I have two lash packages to send out to celebrities who have REQUESTED THEM. Yay! AND, then Keiran is going to drop the babies off with my Mum, who will travel them down to Doncaster to meet me! My BABIES. I LOVE THEM. Nothing in the world matters to me as much as those little lumps of love that I created. Everything i do…is pretty much for them, even if it doesn’t seem that way. But i still have fun and you need to, in order to feel whole and be a great mum.

I look good today. (Be jel.) ๐Ÿ™‚

I feel sexy today. (Find your sexy.)

I’m off work for the weekend…. (If you’re not, i send you my love.)

Life is pretty darn great!

Love you bitches…

Pout x

(Oh go on, I’ll stick a rudey picture up, simply because it’s Saturday. Freakin’ weekend. If you’ve got it…..flaunt it..at the right times. )

ct2

 

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