I Gave You ‘Fantasy Night!!!’

Today’s boring. Maybe it’s the weather. It forces you stay indoors and spend quality time with Jeremy Kyle. There’s a man from Portugal, who has bonked 2600 women. He doesn’t think he’s the father to some chav’s baby. I’ve devoured a bowl of curried beef, whilst i wait for the DNA results. It’s gripping….i’m sure i should be doing better in life. *Wake me up when i’m a star.*

Pete’s apologized for ‘getting me done.’ The green eyed monster got the better of him. (A favourite monster of mine. ) I battered my eyelashes and commited to the Bimbo ‘baby voice.’ Before you know it…he’s begging for forgiveness. Aww. I LOVE ‘The Wunna’ charm. I should actually be using this time to write my book. Yet due to being an undisciplined floozy, i’m instead listenning to the fact that Peter believes i’m like a ‘tamagotchi.’ A hand held digital pet, that you have to take care of every 3 minutes or it will DIE? That sounds nothing like ‘love of my life?’ I’m confused? I’m not really that high maintenance. Yet apparently the tough part of dating ‘Chrissie Wunna’ is the reining in. I’m always trying to totter off, on an adventure…which usually ends in boys crying and me having to apologize. It’s a problem. I’m a natural flirty adventurer. I’m not just nice to MY boy. I’m nice to ALL boys. Loverboy thinks i’m naieve and wants to protect me from overly sexed boys. I’m a hip bouncing, hair-tossing vixen. I’ve studied boys clothed and unclothed for decades. (Well one and a half.) I don’t get called ‘sugar tits’ for nothing. In the words of Britney…‘I’m not that innocent.’ [Do the arm movements.] I do enjoy that Loverboy has fooled himself into believing i’m nothing short of ‘pure.’

Anyway he said ‘sorry.’ Even though i do find it sexy when he’s mad. Two hours ago, he was yelling down a phone saying ‘You’re making me look like a DICK and your making yourself look like a DICK…and…’ It was a rather distracting ‘telling off’ because all i seemed to hear was ‘DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK, DICK.’ That doesn’t end in…‘oh i won’t let other boys hang out with me over dinner.’ That ends in masturbation. (I was in Waterstones this weekend and a lovely, bubbly middle-aged lady, ran up to me screaming, ‘YOU’RE THE ONE THAT DID IT IN AN ELEVATOR. I LOVED YOU ON ‘

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