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


Tuesday, September 24

Guest Starring (in order of appearance)

Lil Red
Queen of Fun
Gypsy Frills Anon
Judged J
Straight Man A
Beautiful Boy
Sexy G
Young B
J Bo

After being told that my parents were taking off for the night, I decided it would be a perfect excuse to invite the usual odd bods over and cause some mayhem. I wasn't trying to recreate the kids party that we had so much fun at at the beginning of Summer (see entry around 15th July for that chaotic do) because while there were some similarites, there were also some vital ingredients that were missing in order for the kids party to be reinvented. For example, this time around there was no paddling pool filled with floaters of unknown origin. There was also no homemade punch which ensured tempers were high (the vodka helped that along instead) and thankfully there was no people running around in my clothes because their own were soaked after being thrown in said paddling pool. Despite the paddling pool threatening to make an appearance on saturday, on a cold autumn day, I thought of the trouble it caused last time when my parents saw the brown grass it left behind and I thought better of it. We would instead have to create party games in order to amuse ourselves. J Bo's dramatic arrival certainly got the party going and left at least 4 of us knackered after chasing a bus to try and get the sleeping J Bo to get her ass off it. We would have lost her to Summerhill had she not suddenly have woken up to see us charging up the hill banging on the bus window. But, as soon as she stepped into the kitchen where we were all gathered around the table making drunken chit chat (mainly about poops and other idiotic ramblings) we knew the times of sitting on our asses were over for the night. Well, they would be after a game of 'pass the vodka shots' was over. It was basically pass the parcel but the person or persons who ended up with the vodka or glass of cider or wine had to down it when the music ceased. It was inevitable that someone had to end up with more than one glass at once, with the amount that were being circulated. And it had to be me, the person who had already cleared way too much vodka and here I was with 4 shots of voddy grinning at me, just daring me to down it in one. I did just that and was promptly told by a number of people that I had to take charge of the music and drink no more. This I did for a good 10 minutes as I cheated and watched in the window reflection so I could see who I wanted to take the leathal shots. My eyes were rolling back in my head, my legs were like those of a baby calf but still I thought I should join in the game of musical bumps which I'm quite sure I initiated. With it being dark and all we didn;t want to perform on the grass as it was likely that my doggies had pooped all over it and the only other option was cement or gravel. Gravel it was. Well either a sore ass or a shitty ass and I know which I'd perfer. Drunkenness had all participants throwing themselves quite literally on their asses so they didn't get put out and have to drink yet more vodka shots. I think much pain was felt and I know my ass was fully pitted the next morning and it looked pretty unsightly along with numerous black briuses. It looked like a severe case of teenage acne, very attractive. The only thing worse than a bruised arse is a bruise fanny. that's another story. And so it was only 10.30pm. I would love to chart the events after musical bumps but sadly the mutliple vodka shots I drank made me lose track of almost everything that happened. One thing I do remember though, which may also have added to my memory lose was The Lift that myself and J Bo love to astound people with at every opportunity. My balance was clearly off and it really wasn;t a clever idea to perform it on concrete but we did. The J Bo came flying at me which is usually quite a pleasant sight but as I was seeing about 40 of her bellies thanks to the evils of vodka, this time I didn;t know which one I was supposed to catch and then subsequently lift. I made an educated guess and all seemed to be well and I caught her and threw her around in the air causing quite a spectacle when BANG. I had keeled over and smashed my head off solid concrete with a J Bo lying on top of me. I opened my eyes and everyone was there, having come running at the sound of the crack. Advice was thrown at me from every angle but mainly all I remember is Straight Man A tellin me not to go to sleep cause I wouldn;t be waking up. Of course I'm sure I had a paranoia attack after this, fearing death more than anything and feeling that it had come for me but I really can't remember. I have since been told of climbing up wooden fence episodes, dirty and I mean filthy porno dancing with the J Bo and being force fed water by pretty much everybody. Of course it's all news to me and could all be completely fabricated, as could the story of me arguing in the toilets. Yeah that one's definitley made up - like I would ever fall out with anyone after too much vodka? As if.

All in all it was a successful affair and at least 8 out of 10 enjoyed themselves. And so it is with great regret that I inform you I will probably never be invited to a party again, even my own, and so will not be able to inform you of the carry ons I get up to which at age 23 should be banned for being completely, bang out of order immature. I do hope and pray with all that I am that I never ever have to grow up because while my idea of 'fun' involves talk of jobbies and pop socks and paddling pools and space hoppers, I sure do have more fun with my friends than I know so many people have with theirs. I would rather die than talk hair products and mortgages and growed up things with a bunch of old before their time adults who have nothing better to do than frown upon my goings on as they tease their hair into stupid styles and worry about never getting married. Sometimes I feel so old being almost mid twenties and all but then I remember the things me and my friends get up to and I realise that I'm still a kid who shows no signs of growing up and being sensible and let's just say, thank fuck for that because the thought of me having civilised chat and not running around like a fanny makes me feel pretty sick and well bloody boring. And so I will go and not ponder what my life would be like were my friends regular people who acted their age. It doesn't even bare thinking about, believe me.

Listening to: the sweet sound of a chronic farter sitting not too far from me.