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

Mail Me

Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Thursday, March 21

Yesterday was research day. I arranged to meet Beautiful Boy for lunch and a wander before I would go to uni. My mind was set on nothing but getting to uni, really it was. I woke all early and met Beautiful Boy at 10.30am, a time so early we forgot just how early it was and had lunch, or tried to at least. After a gander round the shops which lasted at least 10 minutes cos there are so many to get round… I decided I needed to have a mundane or an extraordinary experience (one of the requirements for the writing competition) and it occurred to me that while my life has had morose stuff in it there has been nothing ‘extraordinary’. I don’t want to write about the mundane, who needs to be depressed? And so as the time ticked on and 2pm, uni time, drew nearer I faced up to the fact that 1) my life was dull and 2) once again I would not be going to uni. I guess nobody is shocked about either of these revelations, hmmm. I wanted to go to uni, I knew I should but my mind is completely incapable of concentrating on anything that doesn’t make me paranoid at this moment in time. I would only have sat there and stared vacantly at the screen and felt bad so it wasn’t worth the bus fares. I justified my absence by calling my self made day off one of research. We did have fun but unless you can call checking out more dead people at museums and playing mini bowling then it didn’t constitute as ‘extraordinary’. I guess it’s close to impossible to find that kind of fun in Aberdeen mind you. First stop was the Marschal College Museum. If you can call it that. There were maybe about 5 exhibits, ok 7 but that’s it. The only points of interest were 2 dead mummies and 1 dead kid and 1 mummified cat and 1 mummified crocodile. After having seen unwrapped mummies in London, to see these fully encases ones was very disappointing. We knew they were in there however as lying and twisting around on the floor allowed us to see through the cracks. No, the museum wasn’t busy, we were the only visitors. Actually the ‘local interest’ was great. It’s shameful that in this section there was a photo of a ‘half price jeweler’ taken only 2 years ago which featured a shell suit clad spiral permed fag hanging out of gob, nob. Summed up Aberdeen nicely. And so it was off to the beach. Not that the weather was beach worthy but because we had like £3 between us and so a walk around the beach was about all we could afford. We played mini bowls like mad people. Hurling those balls (not really something I am used to) down the alley at full pelt was great and saved fucking up hands by punching walls. The harder you threw, the better you felt and for only £1. You pay like £10 to get rid of that kind of frustration at a gym and here you could smash the shit out of stuff for the price of a cream bun. Nice. My vigorous arm movements seemed a new concept to me but unfortunately my wrist action let me down and Beautiful Boy whipped my ass (or was that just on my dreams?). And then it was time to throw my entire body weight across an air hockey table, just as well those things are reinforced I tell you. And while my competitive streak ensured I would not be able to move my arm the following morning, it also declared me a winner. And then there was only one thing left to do, hit the pub. By this time it was like 3pm and as we’d been up so early it felt like bed time so my rude yawns incited people to buy me caffeine filled alcopops. Because we are so completely perfect we allowed ourselves the daily task of slagging everyone that dared pass us. My favourite was the poof with a face like a ‘screwed up arsehole’. Beautiful Boy has a beautiful way with words. And my time of fun was over. It was off to work. Having been up so early I welcomed an early night but with a mind cluttered with shit, sleep was fitful and came in short bursts. In each of these 10 minute sleeps which occurred when I eventually drifted off around 2am after much drool and pillow punching I dreamt that a certain person was trying to kill me. Actually she got her ‘friends’ to do it. I’m not really sure what this signifies but I’m sure being a bit sad doesn’t justify someone knocking you over does it? I sure as hell hope not. And so today I do indeed look as close to death as I have ever before and while my eyes look battered I can assure you that this is simply a lack of sleep over the period of a week and that I have not been shoving my fists into my face. Must get some sleeping tablets which I’m sure can only make me feel better…

Listening to: radio

Today’s Likes

Sleep, cos I would love some
Willpower, none of which I have
Beautiful Boy

Today’s Dislikes

People who can’t make the effort to reply to texts even when they know how important it is
Not sleeping
Shaky everything
Bad dreams
Nasty people

Wednesday 20th March

I forgot to write about my wonderful Tuesday, or rather had no time in between smashing my head off something actually rather soft and trying to force myself to eat… yes it’s true, fat fuck fee has given up food. Well substantial food at least. I do still shovel sugary jelly sweets into my gob by the fistful (jeeesus, do I do everything by the fistful?) but that’s about it. It’s just a phase, just like the overeating and the throwing up, it’s all just a big phase, like many a straight girl’s night of lesbian passion. I am sure I will start again soon. It’s not that I am telling myself not to eat cos that’s pretty much like telling britney to start fucking, I just can’t be arsed. It seems like such a waste of time, to prepare food and take 7 minutes to actually eat it or to walk to the shop (you know me and exercise) to decide what you want and then ravish it within the minute. It’s not that I have so much going on in my life that I don’t have time to eat. Heaven help the day that Fee has too much in her life that it stops her munching biscuits by the ovenful. It just involves a great deal of energy and that’s a whole host of energy that I do not have right now. This lack of energy could be attributed to the lack of food in which case I am in a vicious circle. Vicious circle’s are only fun when you are getting your arse bit. It’s a fact. I think there have maybe been 2 whole times in my life where I stopped eating and I’m pretty sure that both times I was ill and while on those occasions I would have been distraught to not be able to eat my favourite meal of pies then I guess starving myself for one day would have been better than chewing on my vomit. Pastry is so rough the second time over. I am not worried about this lack of digesting much however, I know it can only benefit me in the long run and help me squeeze into my age 13 jeans. Fuck no, those jeans would still hang off my ass even if I were clinically obese. I was shopping in the maternity section way before puberty. I know someone who is. Clinically obese that is. I never diet. I try but I never get past 11am before the hunger pains slash around my gut like the evil things they are. I thought about slimfast once but was too ashamed to buy it and I heard it makes you shit loads. Maybe its laxative properties help with the weight loss. It was discussed that a perfect way to diet (apart from the eat as much as you want and then throw it up method cos it’s a personal fav) would be the Muller Light Diet. These tasty desserts have minimal fat and calories and even have some nutritional qualities and come in so many flavours that by the time you’d chosen which one to slurp up, you’d be hungry no more. 1 for breakfast, 2 for lunch and 3 for tea, neck some multi vitamins and you’re clear of 1000 calories and vitamined up for the day. It’s near to perfect. I could be Victoria Beckham thin and pissing toffee yoghurt by the end of the week. As long as I aint so hungry that I start lapping it up again. I aint sitting here chuffin’ with some great huge simpleton grin on my face thinking how cool I am for forgoing food for as long as I have done by the way, it’s just one of these things that will pass and until I regain full appetite I feel I should chart my progress because I’m still flabbergasted that its really so. I am quite sure I have a good decade of NO food before I even come close to that ‘target’ weight so no need to be concerned.

Oh can I just say that I went to university on Tuesday. It was insightful. Or it could have been but cos my head was up my arse (it is physically possible you know) once again, my thoughts were elsewhere. Nevermind, at least I went I guess. I suppose that’s what resits are for, humph.

Listening to: Britney dance mixes