Full of Korma

Just got back from Aagrah in Doncaster. Another family meal…but this time a bit boujier. I was meant to be wiggling my wangas in coconuts this evening with boys in hawaiian shirts, yet after a baby ‘kick off’ with Loverboy…(i was really grumpy earlier because my phone wasn’t working…i decided to blame him for my whole day going wrong. Yes thankyou! I WILL have my ‘Best girlfriend Ever’ trophy! I’ve noticed that i’m not keen on NOT getting  my own way. I’m a bratt of the spoilt sort. But you can blame my upbringing and the fact that i wasn’t breast fed. I was raised by a childminder and maybe a couple of drunks. Posh drunks though. I need to refrain from being stroppy. But i just don’t like things meandering away from perfection. It grinds on me uncomfortably…like a horny pensioner, who’s trying to be sexy!) Anyway, yeah..i ended up at Aagrah tonight, eating far too much out of politeness. They love me there, because the owners son wants a bit of the Glamour Puss and was a big fan of the show. We get free things and special treatment. I’ve now eaten so much, out of politeness, that i’ll probably have to die, in order to refrain from living the rest of my life with a weight problem.

Walked in…looked divine. I made quite a big effort, to say i was just hanging out with my folks. I got a lot of stares, due to boobies and over the topness. Immediately we were greeted and escorted to a table. I saw the parents of one of my old school friends, but when i made eye contact, i kinda did the ‘look away’ out of fear thing. They used to think i was a bad influence on their daughter. What they didn’t know was that i was quite the boarding school goodie goodie and she was bonking extremely undesirable gentlemen of ‘chavtastico’ in my Mums garage. Legs at quarter past nine and everything. I think she got accidentally drunk boned by everyone in the whole town. But it’s not too bad, i mean one of the guys did end up growing up to be a wife beater. (Everyone needs a hobby.) Luckily her folks didn’t see me…and it had nothing to do with the fact that i did resort to the fine act of ‘bobbing down’ under the table pretending to search for my NOT WORKING phone! 🙂 Then i saw a bundle of scattered perverts and a guy with NO EYE!! It had been CUT OUT! That’s enough to put anyone off their lamb korma. If it wasn’t for the ginormous gold and crystal chandelier distracting me and making me believe i was a Princess…i would’ve probably had to give him my eye! Brave man though! He rocked his good eye like a champion! Honourable!

Okay, the good thing about being an ‘off the telly’ Glamour Puss, aka Chrissie Wunna, is that not only do most men fancy you for no reason, but at an indian restuarant you get free things for your whole table.. between courses. The good thing about all this pokery, is the fact that YAY…it’s FREE! The rubbish thing about it is that you’re gonna get fat, feel fat, and not beable to pretend that you’re only 19 1/2.

We had a massive starter, wine, and then free mango lassis’s. Then we had our main course, wine and a free ginormous ‘looked like a knickerbocker glory’ Baileys smoothie thing. It was basically a pint of Baileys with whipped cream on top. This was followed up with more food, more free things, me getting told off by my Mother for being negative, a lovely big talk with the owners son, who insisted on telling us about all the money he had and the fact that he’s getting a ferrari, then a hand shake, a hand wipe, talk of Ronaldo, career banter, money, weight and then an ice-cream for my baby brother. Being a puss of glamour glamour can be exhausting. But i can’t complain. I wouldn’t have it any other way. *Kicks off her heels. Pulls down a stocking.*

Y’know, I have never really felt so chubby! I’ve got a 24 year old boyfriend! I’m 29! I need to NOT be stuffing my face to the point where i need to vomit out korma. I’m having to do can can kicks, in order to burn the calories off before bed. I’m already a hag, cleverly disguised as a floozey. If i continue eating in this fashion, i’ll probably just explode or poo my pants publically. I’d rather explode. I’ve only poo’d my pants once and that was when i was 18, in the bed of my boyfriend..after i got drunk. I can’t really remember doing it, but i did. The fact that i wasn’t even embarassed says it all really. I remember we once had a big quarrel and he locked me out of his house naked. (Haha.)I’m glad i graduated that part of life. Being 18 was ‘eww’ much for me. Luckily, i promptly moved to Hollywood…where my world, life and existance began! I made me a fairytale…and thank the lord for it! *Pass me my fur.*

There were some really hot waiters working tonight. I exchanged a few winks. I can, i’m a kitty. I quite enjoyed being a bit fancied. I wish i got more wine now. My Mother kept laughing at the fact that i had to keep drinking everyones booze, because they couldn’t handle their tipple and they didn’t want to look rude, due to it’s free-ness. Apparently she thought i’d be shimming out the joint, swinging my bra in the air gleefully. All that happened was a blank expression, a hair toss and a strut out. I swing my bra in the air gleefully out of humour, or because i’m getting paid to and never because i’m drunk. Booze won’t make me do that. All booze makes me do is make better decisions! (I hate drunk dialing. We all do it, and yep..we make prize twits of ourselves.)

Anyway, i’ve left now…and i’m at home, in my pyjamas, stroking Gucci (my kitten.) Tomorrow, i think i’m meant to be hanging out with Loverboy for the day? But i have no idea what’s happening? I guess i’m gonna have to apologize for being a cow to him soon. Great. That’ll be fun. On

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