I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Beautiful Boy, gay bud
Well I was all set to attend uni for the first time and show everyone that I had not died in London when I got the phone call. I was trying really hard to make myself beautiful, really not a task that I relish by the way cos it involves a great deal of effort. And the phone goes and it’s Beautiful Boy, asking me if I wanted to go on a date. Well a lunch date and a day date, whatever, but still a date. You cannot hang out with Beautiful Boy and not class it as a date. He makes you feel that you are the best person in the world as he flatters and hugs you. Well that was uni out the window, the house and everything else glass, again. Hmmm. I felt guilty for at least 4 seconds as I slung on my new coat and decked myself out in pink and took my still wobbly legs off into town to meet my pretty friend. We hit some random pub for food. Having not been feeling myself (for a change someone else has been feeling me) it had been a while since I had eaten. I picked my way through a tuna cheese melt without the melt and downed a pint of beer. This was more like it. And so in search of much cheapness we headed to the union. As soon as we opened the door the pungent aroma smacked us in the face like a ball of mould thrown at full force. The stench was students. We ordered cheap pints and discussed the straight guys wearing brown and green. Why do they insist on coupling those dull Bernard Manning like colours with each other? And tapered jeans for fuck sake which sit so tightly around the ankle that it makes their shoes look like elongated shits. While I am ranting about the distasteful dress sense of many a straight boy I will also moan to fuck about fluffy hair. What harm does a bit of wax do? It doesn’t flake like gel, it’s longer lasting and it aint expensive. And if it were, hello have a bit of pride in your appearance. Wax should be distributed free on the NHS, it would save the sanity of many rejected fluffy headed boys. At least it would reduce the amount of fag hags there are who love gay men cos their hair looks so good. So please note that blown dried fuzzy hair is not a good look boys. There were a few of these creatures dressed by their mothers that would have deserved a make over however. Honestly. Mainly the ones who were checking me out.
We sat cautisoulsy on the pube and vomit strewn sofas, careful not to sit on the really dark or the really light stains. The smell of feet drove us to down 75p Vodkas and leave in haste. The next stop was Vodka Bar, a classy establishment where I got checked out by the bar maid, really. We met a sweet birthday girl who was suitable tanked up and treating us with stories of her drunken party nights. Pure porn. Actually this girl was Natasha from Atomic Kitten and her mates the other two. It’s a real good thing to stick in with people who work in your favourite shop, Claire’s Accessories. Half price glitter and Britney merchandise thank you very much. They departed to go watch Travis although it was clear they would much rather have gone for a boogey and there was no way they would even be able to focus on little Fran with the amount of alcopops they had drank (4 between 3). As they left, Queen of Fun arrived and her pretty little smile made my night even better. I threw up a bunch of mucous twice that I can remember and smoked harsh cigarretes, Dunhills, which disintigrated my throat and made puking more uncomfortable than usual. I also looked like I was smoking cigars with the fancy box these throat rippers came in. The Vodka Bar has this great toilet. Inside one cubicle there are 2 toilets bowls, the next best thing to a female urinal where girls can compare pube colours or something. Anyhow, I found it to have a better use than me pissing in one bowl and my gay mate pissing in the other which is actually plain weird. I took a piss in one and as the bog flushed I leaned over and chucked in the other, with the sound of the other bog flushing drowning out my gagging. Very inventive I must say.
Enter 2 foreign friends of the Queen of Fun and enter Fee’s sexuality confusion. As Beautiful Boy complimented the foreign lasses and flashed his pretty everything at them her held my hand. I thought I loved him. Well I do love him but it made me wish he was my boyfriend. I don’t have an issue being a dyke, I just thought for one moment that things would be easier if he were my boy. If I can’t snuggle into the girl I want to then the only person I could feel snuggly and cosy with at this moment in time would be Beautiful Boy. But then maybe that’s cos he is my friend and expects nothing else from me. It is hard to meet people and become friends without feeling that they have ulterior motives for being your friend. People don’t understand friends are more valuable and that not everyone wants to shag. This may seem uncommon for a lesbian but I am quite sure I am not the only one.
Destiny’s Child (inside my head)
Missing classes at uni where people were miming
Queen of Fun
Energy, I have none so would like some
slutwhoreprostitutetart in a suede coat
Self Pity, tis the enemy
Paint on my new coat
Arguments (all of which I cause)
3/19/2002 04:56:00 PM
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