Diary of a Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesbo

I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else

Name:Miss Fee


My 100 Things

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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Monday, March 25

After accepting a lift from a stranger on Sunday morning the race was on. We arrived at Beautiful Boy’ house at 12pm and we had to get gorgeous and be at the bus station at 12.45pm. It was there I was to meet my friend, Young B who I hadn’t seen in a good 3 ½ years since she moved from the delights of her tiny Aberdeenshire town to the more prosperous Glasgow. That’s a lot of distance to put between yourself and Miss Fee but hey I have that effect on most ladies. When you haven’t seen someone in a long time it’s very ill mannered to turn up looking like personified shit, stinking of non personified shit and not being on time. We did all these things. All the eye gel and revitaliser in the world could not have made me look good yesterday, all the deodarant (of which we ran out and got half a spray per pit each) and clothes neutraliser spray could not have made me smell good and all the moaning about public transport in the world could not have made the bus drive any faster. Our lateness was only slight but lateness is a sign or arrogance, expecting other people to wait for you, so as of recently I have been making an effort to turn up at least 10 minutes late. It was odd, good odd, to see someone you’ve not seen in so long and to still be able to talk to them. On a limited budget after busting the credit card to the max we set off in search of much cheapness. But then after clear thinking, not much of which went on yesterday, forwent cheapness for good quality food which is so required after a night drinking tap water. I knew that I had to eat, I had to. My legs were shaking like a lesbo gatting laid after a break of 2 weeks and I knew that food was the only way to cure this. I had a meal! My first meal in around a week. It would have been a simple snack but with the amount of real fuckin’ mayo I packed on, there was enough fat to keep me going through hibernation. It may have been good but the act of effort filled chewing meant by the time I got round to the actual good part (always save the best part til last, like orange smarties) all the goodness was dried up, not unlike a lesbian trying to take advantage of straight girl who’s clearly having other thoughts, like rape. I refrained from smoking as the other 2 Dot Cottons puffed away like a 13 year old giving her first blow job. I spent the day being worried about my stink of stale alcohol and BO and please not the smell of feet. Knowing you stink is so much worse than not knowing cause at least if you are oblivious you don’t have to worry about it and think people are giving you dirty looks because you are prettier than them. We found some energy from somewhere and wondered around the shops, pretty much aimlessly and discussed what the fuck we were going to do for the remaining 3 hours. It’s kinda sad that not only were we unable to amuse ourselves in Aberdeen for a whole day, we couldn’t even fill in 4 hours. In the freezingness, the beach was out of the question and we guessed it seemed anti social to sit in the cinema for hours, not speaking when that was all we had done for the past 3 years. And so I wished I could have been less tired and more chatty and able to at least have one pint to bring me into sociable chatter. I am not generally quiet but I guess when you don’t see someone for ages you can’t just expect to fall into filling every silence. We did well though and while Young B’s tongue was loosened by alcopops the evening passed and it was time to get the young lady on her bus, always at the front for fear of travel sickness. We said our goodbyes and I used my last £4.50 to get a taxi home as lack of sleep was making me hallucinate and was beginning to freak out. As I left I pondered our day and felt bad that Young B had come all this way to Aberdeen to do nothing and to be greeted by my tripping over lip face. That £20 would have been an extra outfit from H&M you know. I had a great time so I hope Young B did also, it was nice to see an unfamiliar face and hear an unfamiliar accent that doesn’t ‘fit like’ in your ear. Maybe if Young B comes back it will be warmer and we will have more options. Or ANY options are good. Fuck the winter. Fuck Aberdeen, again.

Beautiful Boy tried to change the world on Saturday, well the Aberdeen gay world anyway. He stood on the stairs for a good part of the night, the stairs are the hive of social activity, the only place you can hear yourself think and each time he met different groups of people and every time all these people did was to slag off everyone that walked past. He had enough. He told the people he was with that instead of being so nasty to all these people they had never met to try and say something nice. They didn’t understand, where was the fun in that. Someone walked past and they tried to put it to the test, ‘eh, nice jacket’, said some flabby ankled fag hag to a passing poof, whose jacket was clearly foul but it was the best she could do. Beautiful Boy asked how it felt to make someone smile instead of pissing them off and hurting their feelings. She said it was boring and she missed the point completely. I thought this was such a nice thing to do and so out of the normal for that place where everyone thinks they are better than anyone else and if they were all really that good they wouldn’t need to be slagging off everyone else in the first place. Did that make any sense to anyone? Nope, didn’t to me either. It got me thinking. Slagging people is a sign of insecurity, why else would you care what everyone else is wearing or looking like. And then I thought what the fuck I would write about in my weblog if I stopped slagging other people and myself. In my ‘positive thinking’ mode, which is supposed to be ongoing, I am not supposed to self criticise which leads to not criticising others. Jesus. My weblog would turn into a blow by blow account of toilet activities and nail varnish. That so will not be allowed to happen, please God let me keep slagging off everyone for the sake of a story. I don’t mean any of it, honest I don’t. Away to worry about what might happen if I start being a nice person.

PS Is it possible to overdose on iron tablets?

Listenting to: savage garden – affirmation

Today’s Likes

Clean smelling Fee
Hanging out not smoking
Watching other people smoke
Calling someone after a while and things being all good
Sun peeking through

Today’s Dislikes

Not slagging people
Not enough time for coursework
Pillow creases
Toe nails
Broken washing machines