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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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Monday, May 13

My Saturday from the hours of 12-7pm were work filled, or not filled as the case may be as my hangover from hangover hell prevented me from doing any actual work. I arranged with Beautiful Boy to have an actual night in, watching DVDs and drinking turd wine which Big Boy A presented me with at my work because he’s good like that. I appeared at BB’s house to be faced with a fluffy haired boy in ¾ length trousers. It was an odd sight to see BB ungroomed and dressed for the almost present sun but even as a straight boy he was beautiful. That’s impressive, as was the major bum fluff hanging around just above his lip. We watched Virtual Sexuality, drank the nasty wine which even caused me to drink, dare I say, a spritzer (tell no one) and looked at old photos. And then something happened and it was 9pm and we were now no longer having a night in. There was shaving and hair gelling (and that was just me) and the downing of multiple vodkas and said piss with a hint of jobbie wine and we were off for party time part deux. We decided that we would not venture to the new place in favour of old habits and a lack of cash. And so Castros it was. They actually played the best music they have in a long time, playing all 4 of my favourites and the place was still as busy as ever. I heard the new club was equally busy so I don’t know where the sudden rise in gays has come from. It did reduce the number of fag hags who clearly favoured the shiny new place where they have room to take over the dance floor with their often very large hair and matching bags. I think I may have puked twice, I blame the tiredness for this, well I can’t exactly blame the 3 drinks I had, again, can I? I don’t understand why I throw up so much and like all the time. It’s kinda buggin now. While it’s part of my going out routine it’s really becoming tiresome and less of a stupid joke. What an attractive feature throwing up is. I can see why so many people instantly flock to be around me stinkin’ of stale beer and last nights gerkins. Pukes aside, our unplanned night was smashin’. It went without any major event and this is definitely how I am liking my nights at present – no one trying to kill me, no one trying to be me and no one fuckin me off to the point of insanity. The only disappointment was the no show from Queen of Fun who was once again fun-no-more and went home around 12 having favoured straight bars to our wonderful gay company but nevermind. I’ll get her out one night. Sometimes the best part of the night is the hanging around outside and chatting to people at a sociable level about non sociable things and rolling on the ground and generally being too wound up to go home. Saturday night’s ‘hang’ was kinda uneventful and the turnout was poor but a lovely non drinking gent gave us a lift home which made it worthwhile. And my cute drunken poof mate and his 'don't wanna let you go, Fee' actions were also all good and made me smiley. It was then off to scoff cold pasta (I do hope cooked) and of course, cheese slices and smoke the rest of our fags before retiring to our comfy double bed which has become my second home. But jeez that boy knows how to sprawl. I woke up with a line of bruises down my back. I think i'd rather not no their origin.