I apologise deeply for not blogging in what seems like ages. I am currently exhausted due to *not fun* work and the early mornings, the travelling, the lack of jiggery pokery is really begining to eat away at my soul. I need peace, rest and happiness. I intend to start that lovely regime of ‘kitty cat’ TODAY and i really don’t give two delicious flying *hoo-haa’s* about what others may think. You can’t run on empty…no matter how hard they try to make you. I represent fullness, joy and a cheeky giggle of sexuality. When we are happy, we are at our strongest and all i know is that doing little spits of *not my passion* jobs, (even though it is entertainment) is the quickest way to lose. Luckily, i’m Chrissie Wunna (here me roar..and all that!) With a *snap* of my fingers and a *wink* to a starnger, i close my eyes (code for: ‘make a few phonecalls,’) make a wish..(which means ‘throw a yummy tantrum,) and everything changes. I open my eyes and see a new day, a new life, and a complete *oOze* of utter happiness. If you also are not enjoying something in your life, that you feel you are HAVING to do. Change it. You can. I just did and bitches, i feel AMAZING!
Saturday morning, a little glamour puss jumped off her tiny ‘studio set’ of a boudior pad, after hearing the words, ‘okay, that’s it girls, you’re off air. You’re free to go!’ And she tottered like no other, towards a rather musty smelling dressing room, covered in cheap mirrors that gifted the images of the evening before and the scent of the bad old news. She threw on a pair of too tight jeans, and a jumper. She pulled off her pearls, *pouted-breathed.* Then after quickly signing a piece of paper which recoreded her existance, she LEGGED it (like no other) down Camden high street at 10.10am, in actual FLIP FLOPS to the tube station, in the morning heatwave sun, to finally get on a running late subway train, arrive at Kings Cross, with 3 minutes to spare, read a text message that informed her not to *rush* or *panic* due to her current condition and with a calm *RUSH AND PANIC* she flitted up Platfrom 9, weaving in and out of various SLOW moving bodies, with dangerous luggage on wheels, all elbows, heart and suffering from exhaustion. (WHY DO PEOPLE IN LONDON WITH LUGGAGE ON FRICKING WHEELS, MOSEY AROUND AIMLESSLY, ALL LOST AND BEWILDERED LIKE STONED, ‘I’ve lost my sheep’ LEMMINGS!?!)
One minute to spare, after checking which Platform held her train back to Pontefract, which was a battle in itself due to the station being littered with angry, ‘My train is totally cancelled’ busy bodies…and jews.
Then with a moment lfet before her future egded away wiht out her, she charges down Platform 4, sees the train guard about to blow on his tiny ‘makes him feel important’ whistle. She breezes past him, like a devil from Tazmania, accidentally hits him with her bag (that she got on offer from Bank.) He halts, and glares at her with a face that would suggest a Grand central railway banning. She looks back and him, *smiles,* apologises and *winks.* (When in doubt girls, USE your powers of femininity that GOD so GREATLY gifted us with! I mean, what’s the use of being a Woman if you’re not going to truely exploit the *FE* in your *MALE.*)
Perfectly as planned, he forgives her with a smile, blushes, plays a harmless little ‘ooh i’mnot going to let you on the train’ game with her. (You know that game when a person is stood in your way, and as you step to the right…they do. Then as you step to the left…they do. It continues in this fashion, until they eventually get bored. Tedious, i know, but fuck it, i had a train i needed to catch and if that meant jiggling my boobies to that crappy game of train guard flirtation, then so be it. I’ve caught myself doing a lot worse.)
4 seconds to spare and the little Glamour puss is sat in carriage ‘C’ of her Grand Central, train journey back to Pontefract, completely exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and in stripes. I forbid anyone to sweat in stripes. It’s disgusting. I sipped my Dr.Pepper, laid back, made a phone call and sighed, as my train slowly glided away from Kings cross. It didn’t feel bad leaving. It actually felt wonderful. Like i was being *life-lined* away from hell. 🙂 (Ever so dramatic.)
I had been up since 4am, being treated with disregard by gentlenmen on the phone who kept telling me they wanted to do disgusting things to my bum hole, whilst their wife was away. My bumhole doesn’t like that and yes…I despise men of that caliber. I mean why would you say that to me? That was your ONE shot to make an impression. (‘Hi, i’m Ben from Manchester and i want to force my fingers into your anus and rip it open sexually. Do you like that? Don’t worry my wife won’t find out.’ Your wife finding out is not my immediate worry sir!) I mean how *eww.* I paused in life. It took some time to register. This was about the 4th person to open with such a line. *Open* being the scary word. I’m a germaphobe, ask Pete. I don’t like strangers touching me without my consent or suggesting that they would. Lol. I ended it with a ‘Hi i’m Chrissie…your shirt sucks. Now MOVE.’ [Oh go on…put a *Hair Toss* in there!]
I’m a Glamour Puss. I enjoy love, romance, winks and goodness. Cheap, *finger to the butt hole* words, repulse me, due to the lack of passion, depth and emotion contained in them. I get looked and glared at a lot by gentleman, and never in my life have i had a morning that bad, where the undesirables hit on me in the most disgusting fashions. I got into a great deal of arguments..but i don’t care. Woman are the objects of every mans desire. We should be worshiped and not disrespected! I thought of all the perverted men who talk to women like that, and as i angrily sat on my calm train home ( i was travelling backwards) i decided i was going to make a difference.