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, November 4

I met Straight Man A, Lil Red and the J bo after a hard one hour of uni that I bothered to attend on Friday and we headed pub-ward. Revolution was Friday's pub of choice due to needing a comfy seat, good coffee and excellent vodka. We got a seat, one of them square stool things that would have me walking with a bigger hump than usual the follwing day and this lack of good posture made sure that my saggy boobs would now be tucked into the elastic of my socks. Anyway, droopy boobs aside, we were lucky that this seat was in prime position for Bitch Fest Daily to commence. We watched this woman arrive at half five with her jumbo bum squeezed into brown leather and with her wiggy hair do which wouldn't have been out of place on my gran 30 years ago. We watched her deteriorate pretty quickly from a sober-dont-get-out much early 30s kind of woman to a drunken annoying woman who's wig kept slipping foward so we could no longer see her bleary eyes. I haven't laughed so much in days. Her friend was getting more and more irate with our every yell of 'what a state' but still we continued with our stories that we conjured up about this unknown woman with stupid hair and a voice louder than gobby bobby's. We watched in disbelief as she adjusted her fanny on leaving the toilet and we watched in total belief as she put her size 12s upon the table and posistioned her face around her sister's bush as she was unable to sit upright any longer. She'd only been there 1 hour by this point but she had already spiralled out of control and her sister (we have no real evidence that the skinny with the tapered black PVC trousers on was bad bum's sister aside from the hooked nose that they shared) and the rest of the 'we want to be 22' crew watched in mock amusement. We could hear her conversations perfectly as she hollered and bellowed about nothing that mattered to anyone, not even to her bushy eyebrowed friend who looked like she was noel gallagher's evil twin. I could barely hear myself think about my fairy wings and trapped wind as she threw herself around her table like a family member at a bad wedding. We thought about calling an ambulance as we left at 9pm because there was no way she was going home on public transport but we thought better of it when we realised the horror the paramedics faces' would show as they would be forced to surgically remove this woman from her fake leather trousers. They would reel back in shock as everything would flop out and they would choke on the talc fumes that she had used to get herself into the skinner trousers in the first place. There must have been enough powder in those sweaty breeches to talc an entire retirement home full of perms.

We wondered how she managed to pee with them on. I reckon she'd been reading my weblog and had taken up my idea of pissing in your pants. Although she would be doing this not out of lazyness but out of necessity as once those babies were on there was no way they were coming off, unless she hand picked all the stiching from both sides. Maybe she had a bag attached somewhere so she really could pee of her own free will and at any given moment. Maybe that's why her face was so contorted and looking like she was having a sly jobbie, because maybe she really was. I couldn't see any plus sides to these never fashionable dark turd brown trousers so I wondered why she bothered to go through the hassle of getting them on. There was also no way she was gonna pull cos imagine getting that home and after having finally peeled off the cheap material, imagine the whiff of sweat, talc, baby oil and stale puss? I think I'd rather not to be honest. Too late, the smell is already clinging to my nostrils.

It was a pity we had to leave our slurring friend whose boobs were too comfortable on the table and who's fanny was as global as her bum but I had to save myself for the Halloween party the following evening. And that was quite an event, even if I still palpatate at the hallucinations and even though I did vomit only twice.

As is usual for this slacker, I'm forgoing uni in favour of pretty much nothing so I need now to go and do that pretty much nothing in order to justify my absense to myself, as much I'd like to tell you all about the others who were so kind as to look so bad for our benefit the other night. I could tell you about 'beige and caramel the ugly Geogre Michael' or even the neds at the bar in their tapered jeans, pig faces and shiny bright whites but really, I have pretty much nothing to do. So instead I will go in search of flavoured cheese. Straight boys need not apply.

Listening to: multi cultual aberdonians.