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I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else My Profile
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Quote of the day: “Whenever the feeling to do some exercise comes over me, I lie down til the feeling passes,”
How people many do u have to kiss in one night to qualify as a slag? I’d say anything upwards of 4. Well that makes me offcially a slag. I never thought I would ever be titled with such an achievement. And it's not exactly something I have wanted to be christened but hey, makes for a slightly (or does it?) interesting weblog entry. Hurrah, Miss Fee got a pull, of 5 (rough estimate). I know no one will believe that The Fee managed to find even one sorry bastard to lock lips with let alone five of the suckers. And no, it wasn’t spin the bottle. It was more of a partner swapping thing but I imagine that had there been enough room on the glass ridden fag ashed table then there would have been a bit of spinning and possibly even a bit of bottling going on. Immature? We most definitely are. ActuallyI think I am pretty cool. Five is my new favourite number. Could I be more of a stud? Forget the fact that 4 of these snogs were with poofs and the final with a straight girl, I am The Lady. There was no ‘romantic’ feelings within these kisses but it’s still five snogs which is more than I have had in my life. As a rule I don’t do blokes but now and again, very infrequently, the odd fag boy does slip through the net or my lips, which ever you prefer. I was out with my straight male mate and I didn’t kiss him, that might have been wrong. Poofs snogging lesbians is odd as there can be no feelin on anyone’s part so why bloody bother? Lager and flattery plays a massive part in this for me, it has to be said. And I am very selective about the nob lickers that I chose to snog, these aint just some random leather faced benders that I do not know. Anyway, more importantly, all I really need to say about the lady I was kissin is, Foxy American Chick (the original) is home. The lady has impeccable timing I tell you. I was just wiping my lunchtime crisps from my chin after a major 3 days worth of shite spew when I heard the lady calling for ‘pretty lady Fee’. I don’t know who she is but I knew the voice was my Foxy American Chick. As I brushed the toilet roll and pubes from my knees and attempted to rid myself of mingin breath and fuzzy hair, I presented myself to the sweet chick. She hugged me despite my warnings of foul breathness. Now that’s real love for you. I didn’t expect to see her so it was all good that she came. And I am never disappointed when I see her. I didn’t get the pleasure of dancing with pretty girl, she reserved her one dance for a sexy older poof (The Beautiful Host from last weekend actually) and as a girl who appreciates the beauty of gay men it was understood. The night was good but I did manage to miss dancing to dannii minogue cos lazyness got the better of me, as always. Another ‘early’ one lasted til 3.20 am, til we were physically removed from the building along with the rest of the lazy fuckers who were clinging onto their dregs for dear life. And then came the fight. It wasn’t my fight but I sure did get jostled as I tried to drag a 6’3 guy off some randoms who were clearly in the mood for no love. It wasn’t much fun but after the police quietened the rabble the rest of the journey home was a pleasant one. Food was uneventful as I munched into a cheese and runny jobbie sandwich that got deposited somewhere around the foot of the sofa. People went their own ways and Beautiful Boy stayed with me, tucked up all cosy in the otherwise freezing bedroom. Beautiful Boy made sure he had a good pick of his beak pre sleep to ensure a non-whistling nose this time around. What a thoughtful lad. There was much confusion about which direction to turn the clocks and eventually it worked out we had a rough 4 hours sleep. We smoked some tabs on awaking, picked 2 bits of fluff off the carpet in an effort to leave the place tidy for my brother’s return and farted with all our mights. I have never called in sick to work because of hangovers, the £40 always seems more appealing but today I was close. I swithered till it was too late to call in and had to go. I still cannot see further than 2 cm in front of my face and my tongue needs another shave. I had an unproductive day and with a head full of nastiness I fully thought I had tipped over the edge, maybe I have. Paranoia is such a terrible thing and I remembered that I had forgotten to take my pills for 2 days. Yeah my homeopathic tablets that is. Yeah, that’s why I feel mad today. I also have not been doing my positive things and am still seeing everything in the worst possible light (like most people in Castros when the lights go up). I know I need to fix that along with a bunch of other stuff but I am very impatient. If I don’t get results within a day I get bored and if I do get results then I stop working at things cos they seem to be working and then they go all shit again cos I stopped working on them. Confused? Me too. I will start again now. I love me, who do you love? Listening to: Britney baby one more time album Today’s likes My dogs People who are good enough to help me Easter Bed Foxy ladies Today’s Dislikes Eyelids Breath so mingin’ that no amount of gum will cure it Hair needing a wash Eyebrow Piercings Feelin mental Britney Wannabe 
3/31/2002 07:41:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
