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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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Last night I went to see Forty Days and Forty Nights. For those of you unfamiliar with the film it’s basically about a randy guy who gives up sex for 40 days. It was kinda funny and the hot hot lady in it made it even better. It made me think about what I would give up for 960 hours if I really had to. I unconsciously chose to give up sex a while ago so that’s not really an option but the real answer was glaringly obvious. Food. I reckon if I manage to go even 40 minutes without the delights of Pringles or cheese then I will term the experiment a success. Clearly my non-eating phase has well passed and I’m eating enough for 4. Yeah 4 thousand. My every thought is food and when the next meal time is. My meal times seem to be getting closer and closer to each other every day. I seem to be eating an entire meal for an American family on the hour every hour. I can even time my buses by my food times. While I was told I looked not quite ‘trim’ but certainly trimmer than I have in my whole life, I am now about double the size I was originally. That’s pretty damn large. People want to do me for novelty value now. People want to check to see whether everything is in proportion to the size of my gut. If my gut is the size of a small continent then surely my fanny would be the size of Japan? I wouldn’t know, I can’t see past said massive gut. I know my pants have increased 18 dress sizes and that after I lost a thong to the crack in my ass that I aint been able to sit properly for about 2 weeks. My every meal is accompanied by 4 pints of beer and a box of Pringles and packet of cheese slices. And you know the worst thing? My bones have disappeared. I know they are in there somewhere but unless I do something drastic like staple my huge gob shut then there really aint much hope I will see them again. I suited those bones you know. So I was told anyhow. And so, post Saturday/Sunday hangovers I decided that I am in need of a diet fit for Vanessa Feltz. The cereal diet is the only way forward I know it is. I have completed two days semi successfully but now I feel over bloated what with all the milk involved. I have even taken to buying packets of baby carrots and apples to snack on. It’s so wrong. Myself and Beautiful Boy were sat outside Toys R Us yesterday, in the pretty sun after someone’s diarhea mission and to everyone we looked like junkies. We were sat facing each other with various item surrounding us passing a fag between us and sipping on mouthwash and nibbling on apple slices. We got moved on as we were undesirable characters and all for a healthy snack, a bit of nicotine and minty fresh breath. We could have been sat there sniffing coke off the paving slab and nobbing each other for all our effort. Toys R Us was a major anti climax. There were too many computers, not enough hands on stuff and of course, far too many kids being brattish over Barbie’s playhouse which mummy refused to buy for her little boy. It did give us inspiration for our summer kids party that we are gonna have. We are gonna get a water slide and set it up in my garden so the end finishes around a doggy poop. Only me and BB will know this of course and over excited people (some say ‘friends’) will go shooting down our slide to be greeted by an over ripe turd smack in the face. OH how much fun? Lots. It will be my mission to find some people to actually invite to this party and with all the talk of shoving poops in people’s faces I really don’t think that it’s gonna happen huh? Imagine all the beautiful food that I can buy for the purpose? I really do hope no one else does come. Fizzy sweets are out of the question however after a bad experience I had with said sweets only last week. Being a sugar addict, when sat in Lil Red’s home and the box of Swizzle sweets came out I was straight in their. Face first, closely followed by fanny and feet. I munched 25 packets of the little fuckers without even tasting them and sat and got green and made a bolt for the bog. Projectile vomit at it’s very finest I tell you. It was pure foam, and fizzed all the way to the splash. If pukes could be beautiful then this puke was way beyond beautiful. Do you think that’ wrong? To enjoy spewing your ringer? It was also pretty and technicoloured. Yeah, that is so wrong. I need food.
Eating: healthy salt and black pepper pretzels, really Britney Wannabe 
6/11/2002 02:51:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
