Thief in a thong

Well well well…thank foolio, it’s Friday-oh! I am inundated with work today. I’m calling LA, i’m replying to fan mail, i’m writing my book, practising my ‘ooh laa,’ texting hot ‘Handsomes,’ sun bathing in frillies and sorting out my career, my contracts…my love life. Unfortunately my tea (the only thing keeping me a float right now) has a wrinkly layer of *skin* upon it. I’m the freaking ULTIMATE GLAMOUR PUSS MUCH.. ..my tea should come with a side of hot greek shirtless dancing boy and a cocktail umbrella…NOT what looks like the inside of a grannies [any word for *fanny* in here, please.] I don’t know how this happened?? But i will be feeding the guilty party to the ferocious lions, then feeling them up against their will. I’d let you watch..but that would bring back haunting memories from Wunna 2006. (Ouchy.) Don’t have sex on an old fashioned tumble dryer.

Anyway…I’m feeling marvellous today. Really happy to be alive. I’m excited, i’m playful and have the *sneaky a la ninja* in my eye…with heels, a handbag and a heart. I’ve been a bit of a bitcheroo, to a certain boy of Lover over the past couple days and for no real reason other than the fact that i’m a dickhead. A beautiful dickhead though. I tend to take something like a flawlessly perfect fairytale and then kick it, pull it apart, poke at it with my wiggle stick and shimmie shake it, to make sure we’re all still alive and kicking. Yet only to glue it back together in record time and love it more than anyone could ever love anything (when drunk) and with a deep passion. I don’t know why i do this? Maybe peace bores me? Or i want to make sure i’m feeling, i’m living? Or I try to test the strength of the ‘boy’ part of my union? I mean if you’re going to be the next Mr. Wunna…you better have a strong set of balls..coz you’re gonna need them and only for sex. People may mistake my ‘fairytale destruction’ as mentally ill…(because very few people get to have one, therefore i should be a hell of a lot more grateful.) All i’m gonna say is, some label it with a gooey white rectangle reading ‘destructive.‘ I label it with glitter and call it  ‘sexy.’ You can do a fairytale anyway you want. If i want to keep mine delicious i will! Oh look….and there’s nothing you caaaan do! (‘You’re like a thief in a thong Wunna. Give me back my heart!’)

Bottom line, i’ve been a bitch to a boy that adores me. Now i look back i had ‘Lashes’ tell me i was a ‘waste of time.’ Jonny tell me he wished i would DIE. Other boys love me, yet without it flowing both ways. I remember doing nothing wrong and two gentleman dumping me because i was far to nice to them, which made them believe they could treat me poorly and i’d always be there. I even remember poor Eric (but i did lie all the way through that relationship) breaking up with me on my romantic, night time, Hollywood, candle lit, balcony, where i’d cooked dinner and set out wine. Follow that up with the boys who wanted to bone me, yet really couldn’t find the courage to commit and you have what i call….a really GREAT sex life.  Delicious much! Tragic!

Now i have a ‘hero,’ a boy that looks at me when I throw a ‘wobbly’ (cleverly gifted to him via my hormones) who lets me play with fire (and i do, i do..but i need to stop) and calmly grabs my hand, tells me everythings going to be okay, cries at giants, and says ‘I love you more than ANYTHING in this world.’ I guess, i was just checking that he did. Like the quote goes, ‘I can do doves & i can do fireworks..but i can’t do them at the same time…i learnt that the hard way.’

I’m not used to a boy letting me be my natural flirty, whorey, cocktail drinking self. I’ve found one that just wants to love and be happy. Weird much?? And (get this) because at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. You can have all the fame, money, cars and cocks in the world. But on your death bed, you’re not asking for your Grammy award, you’re asking for your partner, your children, your friends, your mother. They’re all catergorized under ‘love.’ I’m lucky…i have it… and with it…you can take over the world! But knowing me i’ll be laid there shouting, ‘No not my fucking Mother, my diamonds! I said my fucking diamonds! Get that hag out of my way!!! Who’s gonna write my blog? Tell them i’m DYING! I’m fucking delicious!’

I can’t believe how distracted i’m being. I was meant to tell you that yesterday, after our fight, Loverboy thought it would be nice if we walked his Father’s dog through the park, in the blissful heat of Summer. I enjoyed it, but tried to be as evil as possible. Getting sunburnt and evil don’t really mix to well. I could’ve collapsed. However, i was adorning a pink frilly bra and booty shorts. (If you’re going to be evil to a boy…make sure you’re dressed slutty.) They cannot seem to resist you and before you know it, they’re cuddling and kissing you without consent and forgetting that they actually brought a Border Collie on the walk with them. (‘Where’s the dog?’) Infact, Pete kept getting pissed off that the dog was there. HAHA. Oh dear. Boys will be boys! Oh and just so you know it’s not in my nature to be evil to someone…i don’t have it in me…i’m a love bunny..i can’t help but *wiggle and wink* at you after a while. I gave in and we went to a nearby beer garden for lunch and posing.

Ended up at the Carleton…where the sunshine was enjoyed with chicken dinners, salad, vodka cocktails, malibu, a bottle wine and a ginormous ice-creamy dessert for two. It was kinda romantic, but with me trying to make it *evil.* ( I tried my best to still be mad.) Then he told me that no-one would love me the way he does. I replied with a *look* and a ‘Yeah they would. They do all the time.’ 🙂

He opted for playing pool…i refused to play because i don’t do things like that. I’m a kitty cat. Pool is a mans game. I do better things with coloured balls and it certainly doesn’t cost £1 a go. We kissed by a cigarette machine, i did a posey leg up and everything. Yet he tried to not make it a big smoochie because  ‘My heart will go on’ was playing in the background and he feared that everyone would think we were cheesey. Once i know a ‘being’ is scared..i use force and violence to make them fight the fear. We kissed! (Ofcourse we did.) Infact, i remember saying ‘Technically it’s the dance remix of My Heart will go on. Therefore it’s not really The Titanic…it’s The Titanic… on drugs.’

Then we had more apple vodka with lemonde and i a ‘butch’ got into a fight with me in the toilet, because she hated how FAKE i looked. (‘Why do you have to walk around like your better than everyone else, [here we go..]  with your fake boobs, your fake eyelashes, fake hair and bra??  I don’t wear a bra [..yeah i noticed] and i’m sexy! I can’t grow my hair [extensions much] and yeah i’m sexier. I’m all natural and i’m sexy. You’re phoney! [You’re BUTCH!] And yeah every man in this bar might be looking at you…[wiggles, winks…shit this convo is making me miss all the free drinks i could be thieving,] but you’d look so much better natural. You’re nothing! Yeah you might be lucky because some boy could buy you boobs [ooooh hold up sister…no boy bought these bitches] but…..’ [okay, now i’m gonna make you shut up..]  )

Now, i’m feisty, but i let her do her spiel. I mean she was only drunk and letting out her pain. If she needed me..in order to do that..then why not? I’m emotionally built like a machine of dynamo. I *paused,* i pouted in the mirror (when i’m getting done for being delicious….i always milk it,) I calmly turned to look at her i said ‘ I LOVE the way i look and you’re beautiful too.’ The Butch immediately felt bad, told me i was amazing , nearly cried, looked at me like a smack head and began to follow me on my strut out of the toilet like she was my biggest fan ever…laughing. I’m not stupid…i don’t have people like that around me, i quickly tottered toward my boy of ‘lover lover’ and we left her behind to tend to life. I mean, she came out the toilet sooo happy that Pete actually thought she was a fan. She was a tattooed, drunken…devil.

Eww..i love how people can say anything they want to me, but if i say anything to them…and i’m GREAT at the art of home truths, they get all upset! Yeah..when i decide to attack, i hit below the belt..Yet when am i not below someones belt? *wink-pout* I hope that Dolly feels better. Loverboy and I are back on track! Let the fairytale resume!