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


Wednesday, July 17

Song of the day: “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to”

I just had one of the best days of my life. Considering the other 2 days that also constituted as the best days of my life were 1) the time I got to take part in a donut and pie eating contest and had won before the race even started and 2) the time I took a packet of Windeze after 2 days of trapped wind which felt like someone stabbing my ass with a hot poker and the utter sense of relief that went with this, it’s no wonder that my party was so good. It was my first ever party. Never before had I known more than 2 people at anyone time to justify staging a party but now, and with the amount of people I offended - possibly never again, I knew at least 14 trusted people to have in my garden. The preparations for my party (more of a gathering to be honest) were meticulous. Saturday (the day prior to the big event) was spent blowing up paddling pools and water slides, scattering glitter in every available space, clearing all valuables out of reach and preparing a feast of nasty punch with foosty pineapple and other such delights which would have been more suited at a Tillydrone barbeque. All the invites had been sent out the week before and were filled with glitter and instructions to wear speedos for the girls and bikinis for the boys incase people really did want to dip their hopefully clean toes in the murky paddling pool and slide along on their asses or faces on the water slide. As this was more of a kids party than any kids party I have been to (which was only one when I was 5 and was never invited to more after the jelly and dog food mysteriously vanished) there had to be toys for people to entertain themselves. Such toys included jumbo space hoppers (one of which died a death after being launched into a prickly bush before the alcohol even made an appearance), pogo sticks, skipping ropes and multiple items which required to be soaked in water and thrown around. The guests arrived in bursts and it was not long before water was being hurled around quicker than I can eat a pie and Babs was the first to go head first in the pool closely followed by myself, Straight Man A and Lil Red. The water area was at the back of the garden and while the 4 of us who were more sodden than Annabela Chung’s pussy shifted around nervously looking for other victims to soak, the rest had gathered in groups and were watching us with disdain, like the kids we were. They were like a pack of wolves, waiting to descend on their prey and the alcohol did nothing to cure us of our paranoia of inevitably getting lynched by this crew of sober types. We had to get more on our side. Luscious L knew there was no way he was getting out of a good watering and to avoid his newly dyed red hair dripping all over the garden like a girl who comes on unexpectedly he shoved on a shower cap and took it like a man. Well he is gay after all. Others who braved the freezing shit filled paddling pool were Queen of Fun who really had no choice in the matter and Sparkle Cat who seemed to relish the wet look in the name of fun. A lot of my memories of the day/evening are patchy and the hours between about 5pm and 11pm are as good as non existant but as well as the water there was plenty of alcohol, loads of stupid dancing and heaps of bodies being thrown aimlessly around the garden. The hit of the day, aside from the mingin’ punch which disappeared as quick as a ghost poop, was J Bo’s 80s compilation tape which consisted of Angry Anderson (remember Scott and Charlene’s wedding?) to which J Bo did a mean power ballad rendition, Tiffany, Chesney Hawkes, Bros and Lionel Ritchie. It was all wrong but at the same time so right. Mad A was the fool of the evening who spiked drinks with Hayfever drugs, made people eat raw onions and eventually passed out in a dribbling, salivating wreck on my chair wrapped in my mother’s clothes. Actually, if people didn’t have my clothes on (the amount of Fee clones there was running around my house after the soakings was scary especially since they all looked better in them than me) then they had my parents Macs and hats on which I found in the morning in various places throughout the house and garden. Once the numbers had diminished and we lost people to sleep, work and comas we chilled out around the sticky with jelly table and ogled my fantastic porn collection while all the boys took turns to massage every body part going. It was slightly disturbing, as were the two who blew each other off behind my shed but that’s another story. Oh and in 14 hours of drinking punch with extra vodka and vodka with no extra coke I vomited only twice. There was bets placed on how many times serial spewer Fee was likely to puke and 3 seemed to be the favoured number but aha, I fooled you all and did myself proud. Puko numero deux was unsatisfying and my privacy was well and truly invaded. I have a problem vomiting in public or with anyone within 1 mile radius of me and here I was on Sunday, all positioned over my favourite bowl, with every available tap running to drown out my unladylike gagging, with my fingers poised at the back of my throat when the door bursts open and I’m thrown aside as Babs lunges himself into the bowl and chucks up foam sweets, cheap wine and soft crisps. As if this isn’t bad enough he offers to move over so we can throw up in tandem and see what kind of colours we can produce so our sick would mingle and blend to become a new flavour of punch. How very pleasant. The last of guests dispersed around 2.30am and myself and a few random bodies took up bed in various parts of the house with a bucket in every room. After having necked a bottle of Balieys all on my ownsome after the second puke, I could do nothing but lie on my bedroom floor and laugh and not move and not produce a sentence with more than 3 words. It was a beautiful sight – The Fee all wasted, puke encrusted on her chin lying there with hair like a back combed bush and spouting random words that made no sense to anyone. All in all I think everyone had a real good time and enjoyed the party games of how many people can dive in the 5ft pool at once, how many times can you go belly first down the slide without friction burning your face and how many times can you throw yourself around on the chucky stones without puncturing a lung. And while my favourite parts of the day are endless I did most enjoy the split leaps we took in turns to do across the garden and the Dirty Dancing lift that Luscious L and myself perfected even if my skull did get fractured and Luscious L did break his back in the process. Oh to be Sunday again and repeat the performance but this time with no tantrums and maybe less punch.

Listening to: something mean and 80s
Would be eating: left over food were there any