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


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The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Wednesday, April 24

What incites so many people who listen to ‘alternative’ music to dance either like muppets on whiz or the return of the living dead? Not partaking in dancing myself on Monday night, preferring the sitting drinking water option, I got the joy of laughing at everyone else. I now appreciate the horror I subject everyone else to when prancing around on the dance floor with a gammy leg and a club body. I wonder why most of these people are incapable of dancing sideways or in a circle or even on the spot. They only seem to move backwards and forwards, missing every beat due to the slowness of their movements. Feet shuffle forwards/backwards never leaving the floor with arms clasped tight by the sides and shoulders dropping so severely that they scrape the ground and cause many an injury as passers by trip over these baggy tee clad shoulders. Many of these ‘I’m in mental torture’ dancers think it’s quite normal to throw their arms around their entire body as though they may hug themselves to death and screw up their faces to show everyone they are more pained than the next ‘feel my pain’ dancer. Makes me laugh, trying to reflect pain through dancing. That only works if someone has crippled your crotch in the mosh pit, believe me.

On the other extreme are the frenetic dancers who take over the entire dance floor, skipping around tits bouncing and getting every word wrong. One such girl who had a mane of eighties hair that badly needed a good condition hurled herself around the room like she were a shampoo commercial. The best bit was when she did a dramatic interpretation of a forward roll onto the stage which resulted in minor carpet burns to the face and elbows and gave everyone else a nice view of her over sized ass. It was quite coincidental that myself and Young B witnessed this sight as not 2 hours previously we had been discussing the decline of the forward roll and were even gonna find the space to introduce these mini gymnastics back into society. I drew the line at backwards rolls as had images of my ass getting stuck in the air as my chubbs fell out of my jeans and people pointed and jeered at what is my comedy ass. Young B did seriously contemplate a free standing handstand but couldn’t stand the attention her pants may receive.

Back to the dancing. System of a Down came on, not a group I am familiar or at ease with but you should have seen this collection of mini moshers, punk wannabes and trendy girls too young for Amadeus trying to adjust their dancing/moshing style to this bad boy. It made for great amusement all round as people kicked their legs out front as though they were in caberet and jumped in the air, arms and hair flailing while trying to touch the roof with said bouncy hair. These people really were flying without wings. Not a jammy rag in sight.

My favourites of the evening however were the people shuffling around like contortionists who’d left a jobbie in their pants and were trying desperately not to let it slip out the bottom of their made-for-3 trousers onto the already shit filled dancefloor. They all looked very uncomfortable but that’s to be expected when a slippy lil stool is sliding around in your Y fronts.

Actually what was funnier than any of these clowns was the 3 bams [nob ends who listen to happy hardcore with tapered jeans and long white polished trainers] sporting striped polo shirts and ted baker jeans lunging themselves into the mosh pit. I kept waiting for a knife to appear as they went barging in the moshpit with fists flinging, reminiscent of a lesbo in a women only ‘disco’.

I dance like an arse to any type of music (mostly accidently which is worse than taking the piss to Aha goes Ska) so I feel no guilt about slagging the delights of drunkenness I witnessed. Anyone who wears tights up their arms deserves to be berated.

Oh on Monday night I also got to see balls. Twice. I gotta scare the first time around cos I wasn’t quite sure what it was I was looking at. These balls were pierced and while I’m sure to a ball girl they looked beautiful (well the ball bearer was Beautiful Boy after all) I was taken aback by the fur. I got to feel balls also. Not naked. That’d have been weird and very wrong. Myself and Young B flanked (I said ‘flanked…) Beautiful Boy and I copped a feel. I wasn’t too offended when he didn’t crack a hard on, despite his best efforts to do so. Bless him and his non sexual love for lesbians.

Long Ass The Return on the way soon.