The Pagoda To Go Daaaaa

Yes i am a bit tipsy, but the good kind where you aren’t really drunk, just merry and finding that posting a picture of your BUM (love that word) on your blog is far too hilarious for it’s own good. I love my bum. You should too. It bites, (*wink pout*) and goes ninja when it doesn’t get it’s own way. Delicious!!

I have a documentary of the smallest man in the world on and i’m sat in polka dot pyjamas, with my boobs, crossed legged, with a kitten, typing this moment of my life!! I’m feeling frisky, sexy and like i’m the Queen of all things GREAT!! (I can’t fucking believe i’m even alive!!! I really did think that at 9.15pm today.) The smallest man in the world is almost far too adorable for his own good. He was born only 6 inches tall. Purrfect size for any girl really (wink wink.) I think i should carry him around like he’s my husband/baby and breast feed him in public places. Why do women do that? I would NEVER get my boob out in the middle of Morrisons, sit on a stool by the cold meat counter and breast feed my child for the beef buying masses and i’m a fucking ATTENTION WHORE. (Well a recovering one. It seems now i get a lot of it anyhow, whether i want it or not…which i enjoy. *hair toss-giggle*) I was never breast fed, hence why i apparently have an oral fixation problem or whatever…but i think boys just make that up to make me sound saucier than neccessary.

Anyway, enough of the nonsense my yummy treats of munchkin land. I’ve just got back from a family birthday dinner at Pagoda in Wakefield. (Last time i went there i burnt part of the building down…no joke.) It was my mums b-day on the 19th and well tonight was the big dinner thing that you always have to do with every memeber of your family. I ADORE my MOTHER, but family dinners don’t half run on longer than neccessary. I mean it doesn’t really bother me, because i have a ‘naughty do what i want reputation’ within the family and people (who claim to be blood relatives) don’t expect me to do anything they wish  me to at these times. I drank. I feel better. I am a bit upsetthough at how my Mother is so eager to please her Mother, my gran…(who was Miss.Burma in her ‘heyday’ and loves me because i’m pretty lol.) They haven’t really had such a loving relationship….hence why my Mother vowed to love her daughter more than her life itself. My note to everyone… not people please. The people who adore you, will adore you anyway…bruises an ‘all. We ate at a round table. It’s part of my culture to eat at a round table. I don’t like to dine at square ones…it breaks the ‘chi,’ the wholeness, the  kitty flow of harmony. I’m not even kidding either. At the beginning of every meal we pass a teapot of oriental tea to each other as a symbol of love. (I do it whilst Tweeting under the table cloth and downing red wine.)

I also found out that not only to i have great hair, but i can drive a Mercedes with chopsticks. I did this around an empty parking lot for a few dull moments, to humour myself during a distinct time of boredom. But i’m home now, i’m happy and well i’m feeling like a Glamour Glamour Puss puss, who can conquer the world.

I just had a flashback of being in a church the other afternoon in Camden. Yes! I real life church…not code for ‘liquor store.’ Jonny and I decided to go in one and light random prayer/unity candles to bless our souls. We swore all the way through it, because he refused to let me use Gods matches by ‘

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