Saturday was spent shopping in Doncaster. I had nothing to buy, but my own ‘sight.’ (Without my contacts in i’m all boz eyed and helpless. Sexy i, know! You want this. All over you.) However, as always i ended up wasting all my fine earned pences on ‘ooh it’s the international market’ goods. I went to buy contact lenses and came back with chocolate cookies from Belgium, dried mangoes from Turkey, some odd ‘7 year old from Dragon’s dead-turn your can into a bottle’ invention for 80p, fresh greek olives, egg poachers, a kangeroo burger, 4 ‘i’m too fat to wear them’ dresses, a t-shirt with a kitten on, wanted a wig-wham, met Tom Fox…(a friend of mine that bumped into me by the Russian Dolls,) he *bumped,* i SHOWED him my *bump* and then armed with my Mother and my *sight* thrown into a carrier bag reading ‘Specsavers,’ i found myself in some random ‘party’ shop trying to purchase a DISCO BALL. What is wrong with me? I’m almost 30 years old and i want to make like i ‘disco?’
International markets are dangerous. You find yourself buying everything, including red indian slaves and simply because you can. It doesn’t even seem wrong. It’s almost cultured. The music makes you feel like you’re some kind of Tiger Lily on ‘let me spend all my money’ acid. (I enjoy my attempt to blame slavery on the boogie.) I loved bumping into Tom Fox…(i always bump into people when i look rough.) I was in a baby pink *hide my preggoness* jumper, denim skirt and Ugg boots. He tapped me, (with fingers and not as in ‘sexed’ me up,) i looked puzzled, then shocked..then within 4.5 seconds, it all came back to me and i leapt towards him with mentally ill, cuddles galore. My Mother caught me letting a boy feel my *bump* up and did the quick…’heeelllo.’ This is why i enjoy Tom…(and not because his last name ‘Fox’ is to DIE for.) When my mum jibber jabbered on about whether he was HOLIDAYING in DONCASTER? (Like ya do!) He just smiled, nodded, looked at me like she was 98% insane and did a Wunna ‘yes, yes, totally…yes!’ LOVED IT! Tom first met me, after recognizing my fabulous BBF self at Waterstones at a shopping centre, in a ‘Hello Kitty’ t-shirt and getting upstaged by a Pig named ‘Peppa’ who i think is a limelight stealing bitch. I wished children loved me, just as much as they loved Peppa pig and simply because I AM A REAL LIFE PERSON. I was being upstaged by a man in a giant pig suit, who was getting paid £5.80 an hour, to wave at children. (‘Hi, I’m Chrissie Wunna, i have a great tan, a foul mouth and a killer wink. I was on the telly with Paris Hilton, and can *hair-toss* and everything. Helllloooo? Love me much?’) I wanted to go around and destroy the moment for everyone…yet luckily my laziness got the better of me. I’ll destroy things another day! I think i fancy Will Smith right now.
Saturday exhausted me. Yet the good thing about it, other than ‘family time’ and the fact that international market stall owners like to give me free things because i have big boobies, was the fact that LOVERBOY returned from his tiny stint in the Lake District.
When i finally got home, we did have a mild bicker…but only because i missed him and when i do, i seem to tantrum and simply because i need him to remember that he adores me. 🙂 Our bickering never last long, as he usually greets me with gifts, ( i got teddies, chocolates and things that make you fall for a boy.) Plus, the fact that he’s *sizzle* sexy, with his body of *yum-yum,* and armed ‘Papa loves you’ eyes..means that a floozey like me will fall right back into ‘love’ mode. (I’ve just made myself a snack bowl…like i’m some kind of disgusting pregnant horse of a *need to stop eating.* It consisted of crisps, olives, chocolate, green chillis, beef, apples, fudge and a cuppa tea! All of this at the same entire time. This is what i’ve become. Luckily it’s given me curves. Unfortunately, i DO NOT NEED anymore vixen curvage and simply because my life is difficult enough with all the ‘perv litter,’ i’m having to put up with. I don’t need to be inviting anymore ‘hello…this is my boner’s’ to the party. Wazza signed onto my Facebook yesterday, (as me) and because some well manner lovely (dickhead) had posted some rudey link of me on my wall. Within 20 seconds of him signing on, he text me with a ‘some guy has just sent you a picture of his willy on Facebook chat.’ This is my life. Save me. I’m far more kitty, dolly…than i am horny porny. The only person i am horny porny with, is Loverboy and simply because he buys me teddy bears.We had a sexy night last night. Lot of snogging, edging up my dress and ‘ooh laaa,’ with boobie massaging. There was a show…he was the only one invited. 😉 Comedians were on the telly when i *sucky-suckied.* Says it all really! )
Got in today, around noonish, after a beautiful Sunday of chillax. I’m feeling quite quite wonderful these days and well life couldn’t be any better. (I am lying…it can always be better. I can’t wait until i can drink again and simply because i’ve lost my ability to *shimme.*)
I’ve actually got a TRUCK load of work to get through today! Loads of it. I have the cosmetic line photos to send off and approve. (I totally forogt that i had that piece of makeup glory a coming.) I have my book to write by the end of November. (Scary!) I have a record producer to call, who wants me to do a bit of singing on a track for him. (*Hands you ear plugs.*) I have a underwear line being developed, my agents running around in circles for me, acting to tend to, wondering whether i should be an Elf at Christmas, BBC3 stuff and an apple. Plus, i also have to restrain myself from sending a boy named ‘Tim’ a reply to an email he sent me asking me if i enjoy having men cum on my photos. No i don’t!!! I don’t take a pretty picture so some *pants down* bumble of a stranger, can ‘man juice’ his dignity all over it. How rude! I admit, there are some girl who enjoy that and i’m here to help them get over that. I’m all for Girls, women and champions. I have a bizarre relationship with men. They see what they want to see and what they see…is something i simply do not? Men have an idea of how i am, or think i’m some wounded, tortured soul of a girl who might need them to feel ‘whole.’ They think that because they haven’t met me. When they do, they are shocked. I’m like the happy, cocktailing, mail order bride that you send back, with a letter asking for a refund. I prefer silly, to sexy. Clowns to porn. Yet for some reason…they just don’t seem to want to believe that. LMAO.
I’m going to be a mum. I can’t wait. I want a boy. I’ve just realized, all of my work, like the book, the show, the make-up, the everything…is all going to come out at once! That means lots of workage to try and fit in between breast feeding. But whatever, there’s nothing i can’t handle. I can’t wait to go to acting school. Oh and i got a really pleasant message from a boy named ‘Oliver’ today. I enjoy it when boys are pleasants…makes me feel safe enough to put my stick down. He’s charming, witty, a blogger and get this…we have the same birthday! I must like people who are pretty much ME! 🙂