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


Friday, November 15

I was thinking about first impressions the other day. I was thinking that I'm not one of these people where if I dislike someone in the first 30 seconds then I will dislike them for the rest of my life. I hate people who instantly judge a person like that. Like I can talk about judging people, I do it all the time, 'would you look at the size of her hair, it's larger than my ass' and 'are her glasses really as big as my ass?' and so on but hey, I like to contrdict my every word. But why say you hate someone you have known for less time than it took you to drink a half pint? Thinking about this has made me think of the first time I met everyone in our group of friends. If I were to judge them all on these first conversations (or they were to judge me!) would I be friends with then right now? I mean, the first time I met the infamous properly J Bo was at the bloody bingo and I was quite coyly mumbling 'house' to get my £30 without drawing attention to myself. She thought I was a stand-offish freak and I can't even begin to think what I must thought of Her Gobbyness. That must have been 4 years ago. And now, she can't get rid of me and we no longer need the mutual friends to be there when we hang out as we are friends in our own right. Maybe if it hadn't been for that night at bingo where I had to buy J Bo and her unknown friend a drink with my winnings then things may have been different. Maybe she got her disliking of me out of her system that night as I sat there in faded combats batting my heavy eye lids at The Queen. Whatever, I don't think I saw much of her again, apart from the odd head nod in the street, until I started drinking too much and swapping shoes with her ladyship at the Mudd Club last summer. That was quite a summer. Actually, I don't remember most of it as, like I say, I was pretty wasted all of the time, using vodka and cheap beer to forget stuff I really didn't want to think about. But anyway what's done is done and while I regret my hostility toward to J Bo, I'm sure eit wasn't intentional and I'm glad I got to hang out with her and Rosie of the River and discover what being a fanny is all about. We started fights in pizza shops after 'bra wedgies' were handed out, we put mussels in the arm rests of taxis and we threw ourselves around the mosh pit like hairy twatts as the J Bo made everyone in the place get down on their knees and worship her Jason Donovan keyring in a place where he is about as cool as the damp patch. Ah Jason.... we lost you to coke and whores but we will still love you and remember you as the mulleted boy who did the tomboy mechanic who has more career now than you have hard drugs. Bless.

The memories are too much. And the more I write the less time I give myself to go meet the woman herself who is in need of alcoholic refreshement. And so I go to listen to the sweet sound of my gut singing for cheese whilst killing all who surround me with my brutal hunger breath.