Finger Art Hearts

Morning my lovely lumps of ‘lick lick.’ I woke up this morning feeling hazy yet tanned. Luckily, (and at 7.29am,) i was immediately gifted with a charm bracelett from ‘Pandora’ for being such a wonderful cat of kitty. It’s the best way really. As soon as i open my eyes, and sniff, just shove some kind of GIFT in my face and i’ll immediately like you, due to everything being ‘material’ girl.

I’m actually not sure why i deserved such a gift? But fuck it. It sure as hell made me like 7.29am, more than i actually normally do. 7.29am is certainly a time for do-gooders. I’m usually rolling over or screaming out in my sleep, due to a past of sinning, at that particular turn of day. It’s that odd time, where it’s not actually a happy ‘lets start our day,’ moment. However, it’s a time that suggests an ungainly, ‘because i have to,‘ wake up shuffle. I used to always try to begin my day early, but i found it tedious and boring. I enjoy short *spits* of dramatic entertainment. If i’m ever twiddling my thumbs, it’s best to back away from me, (without me knowing, if i know, you’re in doubley trouble,) as my little slanted eyes will *scan* around the room and hunt for a victim. That victim will be toyed with in any fashion that i seem fit, in order to quench my boredom. It’s awful, i know. (Lol.) But see! I can’t help but laugh! ( I was raised all kinds of wrong.)

My *Thing-a-ling* is really starting to merrily drain me a bit now. My body is going through major changes and well i can’t really talk about it too much, because i am writing a secret ‘moment to moment’ account (in book form) which will help other Kittens, who may also go through the same *thing-a-ling,’ in the present or the future! But let me tell you, i’m not finding it easy. (Haha.) I’m like Godzilla…but less fit and slimy. (Well i do get slimy, but only when Pete decides he’s going to bend me over a bath-tub, with my leg lifted into the air, followed by it being WRAPPED around his body, whilst he watches my bum, do a *jiggle* thing that he ever so dearly enjoys! This was yesterday, in the bathroom that belonged to his Mother. He can’t resist my jiggly bum and has to tendency for *pumpy,* whenever he sees it, before he shamefully mushes in his pants. He also (and most of the time) FORGETS, that i’m a Darling.. ageing SEX symbol and not an ageing GYMNAST! 🙂 I must have looked like a right proper ape, trying to do a series of *pouty-sex* faces poorly, whilst groaning. God help me. All i remember him saying was ‘look at that ass,’ all excited like a kiddie. (Well not a kiddie. I don’t sleep with children. But i did moisture my right nipple in the kitchen yesterday, by a microwave.)

Annnnyway! Yeah, later he redeemed himself by sitting with me whilst we watched ITV2, (not his favourite, but i was tired of watching depressing rescue, caught on camera by police shows.) He made me a dinner of veg, potatoes and steak & ale pie, followed by performing *finger art.* Finger art is when he does ‘half a heart’ shape, with one hand, with his fingers, and i am to complete the ‘heart shape’ with onehand, with MY fingers…therefore making a ‘whole’ lovely HEART! It’s cute. I love it. (The madness doesn’t end here. Be warned!) Then he peeks through it, with one eye and tells me that he loves me. I then *peeky* through it, all excited, smiley and bimboey and tell him that i LOVE him. (Lol. This is sounding quite mentally ill.)

When i did it last night, he pissed himself laughing. He sees me as this googly, wide eyed, doll of *cutsie wootsie.* He currently finds me adorable, pure and giggly..which i am, served with an occasional side of *vixen.* I’m both. But mainly Playful, with a sense of wit. He’s gone so utterly far on this *cutsie wootsie* theory that he’s actually fooled himself into believing i’m a virgin.I’M NOT EVEN JOKING! Ask him!  I’ve never been compared to Mother Mary….with fake tits…before. (I did have to remind him that i had actually had sex before and awww…you should’ve seen the sheer *baby shock* on his face! Oh the disappointment.) He also tried to *hint* at no more public pictures of me naked, from the neck down and more pictures of me representing myself, from the neck UP! I’m shooting for my book cover shortly and well his ideas, are simply similar to the ones that say, maybe my MOTHER would come up with. *Snooze-fest.* I want deliciousness and campiness! And i always get what i want!

Other than that, i was feeling mildy *sad face* early, but only because i hate it when i’m on the phone to someone and they have bad reception. Every 2.4 minutes their voice turns all robotty and then they get cut off, whilst i’m still talking. It drives me up the wall, trying to finish a sentence during the course of 41 different calls. I got crazily frustrated and decided to put my moody boobs on. *Strut-strut-smashes something valuable.*

Luckily, a Dairylea triangle of cheese, (I’ve had 3) actually and rather oddly saved the day. It made me happy, during my time of a complete loss of appetite. I glared into my fridge and realized it was the only thing i could bare to eat! I’m all natural today..(apart from my chest)…therefore in a moment of *panic,* I needed something FAKEY, to make me feel better. The cheapness of the Dairylea turned me on a bit. I grabbed it like it was a steak dinner, and worshipped every moment that it slithered into my system. (Note: I did actualy EAT it and not put it somewhere naughty. I’ve made it all sound a bit dirty, by accident.) There’s just something about a Dairylea slice that i embarassingly enjoy. I mean it looks like cheese, it tastes (a bit) like cheese. Yet if you were to actually unravel it from it’s sexy silvery foil and take a good long look at it. There is distinctly something, so superficial about it. It’s perfectly sculpted, and not like that real crumbly shoddy kind of ‘falling apart’ cheese. It’s like a gelatine, artificial, glossy mould, of child-like fun. That’s what i love about it the most.

 Therefore whilst i imagined myself sitting on a giant disco ball over the entire world, as i waved at my subjects, in heels and lip gloss. I realized that i was lucky to simply be alive and happy. Being moody was a waste of any Queens time! I’m the  joyous Ultimate Glamour Puss and exciting things are happenning to me. My dream was to become a writer and an Icon. (Don’t laugh. 🙂 ) I have the *icon* thing down. 🙂 However, now the writer thing, is well on it’s WAY! (Oh, note; I watched the the American BFF show yesterday evening before i indulged in ‘Katie & Alex’ and i’ve decide i only like the Hilton BFF shows, if i’m actually ON them. When i’m not, i’m truely not bothered about watching them. LMAO. That’s terrible isn’t it. But true. I didn’t even watch the last episode of ours, because i was no longer in it. Lol. However, i AM, excited to watch Janice Dickinson on ‘Celebrity Come Dine With Me’ tonight. I enjoy her on my telly box, causing mayhem for the simple sake of entertainment.)

I’m here loving life, yet occasionally moaning for no reason due to my hormones being all unbalanced. Yet technically my life is fabulous. I love being ME! It couldn’t be any better! (Well mildy.) Now, i’ve written this, i’m back to being positive again. I’ve had my juicy vent. So weirdly i must love to entertain the world through actual written world. Yet again..i only like to write about myself! 🙂 I zone-out, if it’s about someone else.

So whenever you think you have it bad, KNOW that in some part of Africa right now (and i’ve just read this in like Heat Magazine or something,) there are little African girls getting their actual boobies IRONED down, by their own dear MOTHERS, in order to make them less attractive to men. You can’t have your boobies IRONED down! I mean, heellloooo? How are they gonna get free dinners at posh restuarants, by ‘Handsomes’ when their older? I’d die without my boobs! (I’m having an ‘i miss Samuel’ moment. No-one enjoys my fakies like that boy of utter gayage. I love him. We felt each other up, sooo entirely much in the BBF house it was almost pornographic. His bestie ‘Josh’ would always see me out gay clubbing and scream ‘You’re nothing without your tits!!!’ Haha. I love Josh! Those were the days.)

Plus, if that isn’t bad enough..also KNOW that in Russia, some chicks are being kidnapped off their local high street and being stolen to be BRIDES! Eww- eww *terror!* It’s awful, if you’re commitment phobe much. You can’t just steal a bird, to be your wife and it be okay! However, it’s actually NOT against Russian law AND the Russian chickalickers actually don’t mind it.  It apparently means that their parents don’t need to pay a guy loads of money to TAKE their daughter. What an odd concept? ( Put that vodka down bitches. I mean i’ve been a drunken socialite and there’s naked shimmi-ing on top of bars to tropical, ‘in your own head’ beats for attention and then there’s letting some fat Russian dude bag you up and force marriage upon you, to save ya mum a quick penny. If you’re gonna be a drunk and least be a happy one! There’s no way in HELL, you’ll find me being stolen and perfoming horny, naked Russian hat dances, to dirty chubby vodka drinkers, with beards and boners the size of [insert anything in this space, that you find appropriate, here!]

If you’re British you don’t really have it that bad. You just think you do. Do we have it better than the Americans? I don’t know? (I mean, i regard myself as half Angleno, after having emotional grown up in Hollywood for a lovely large luscious decade.) I will tell you that Nicolas Cage just admitted to sitting at home alone and doing drugs with his cat…Therefore take what you will from that and wave any flag, be it Union, Starry-striped, Skull and boned or even Rainbow.. and do it darlings….with Pride!

I love you my pretty kitty cats! xxx

Ola and I argueing in the back of a taxi, on the telly about Carrie! (She’s left, i’m right…just incase you can’t tell the difference between ethnics. 🙂 )

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