I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Last night I dreamt that I was kissing my ‘nurse’ on a water slide while Straight Man A held my other hand. What the hell can that mean?
That dream had me waking up in a sweat and it got me remembering. I partook in a great game of Doctors and Nurses from the ages of about 8-11. It was a torrid affair but it’s fair to say that those were the best years of my life. The game was always the same, there were no boundaries and no limitations of the areas you could prod and with what you could prod them. It involved the ‘doctor’ investigating the ‘nurse, in anyway you wanted. There was always a fight to see who could be the ‘doctor’. What does that say? We preferred to put fingers in someone else’s every crevice than have fingers put in our own crevices. Hmmmm. At the time the girl was my best friend. I don’t even know she liked me that much but I spent a lot of time with her and couldn’t wait for the next time when she’d drop her patterned pants so I could have a good rummage. I don’t know how long each game lasted, probably when the ‘nurse’ could stand the careless, invading fingers no more or when we heard the annoyingly sweet voice of her mother singing her way up the stairs. Her mum was never far away and one time we were so engrossed with someone’s innards that we did not hear her. She opened the door as something inanimate was being inserted somewhere it would never have fitted but I think the only reprisal we got was ‘pull your pants up, you’ll catch a cold’. I was devastated when the games had to end and she had to go to another school. I don’t think the getting caught incident and her being sent away to a school where they wear heavy stupid kilts were related. I never saw her once she moved and I never got my answer as to what the ‘hangy’ bit was. Well not her ‘hangy’ bit anyway. Always in the back of my mind I was sure she would come out as a lesbo. She was my first thought when I started thinking about joining the pink crew myself. I wanted to call her up and say ‘Hey nurse, remember me? Are you gay now too?’ I couldn’t imagine she would be anything but a bender because she was always so keen to unwrap the parcel and open the box so I was kinda shocked after Miss Delusional Fee was told she was as good as engaged. I suppose feelings are all over the place when you are young. Maybe she would have shuffled her hands around anyone’s intimate gunge, maybe it was only because I was there. Maybe feelings you have when you are young have little reflection on your future feelings? That’s far from true for me. Like so many homos, once the revelation that I would be a beaver girl came about, I could trace back all the women I adored since about age 4. I know for a fact I loved my Primary 1 teacher. I was the only one not to go to her wedding because I was so distraught and that was aged 4! Taking a stand for the woman I loved after only 4 years of life! Now that’s impressive. And who could forget the manipulative girl who yelled at me every day, laughed at me, and generally made me so unhappy I cried all the time? I hated her so much but I loved her even more and couldn’t stay away from her. For so long I fancied this girl and even now when I see her which is maybe about once every 2 years, I still get a weird sensation. And the fact that she looks like 4 hundred pounds of shit now makes the years of torment (oh I love a dramatisation) seem funny and almost worthwhile.
Anyway, young love aside, I’m getting lost in the memories and digressing. Back to sneaky feelys. I wonder if I‘d had boys in my life whether I would have been tugging around in their pants? I hear lots of girls say they ‘did things’ with girls when they were young but are all for the opposite sex now. Imagine if all the girls who were so interested in the velvet turned out gay? I think the world would be over run with lesbos. Can that ever be a good thing? Too much of a good thing can never be good surely?
I can’t imagine that anyone will want to share their intimacy with others (boys or girls) when they were young but if you do, feel free to do so. I’m very interested to know if you made connections with these experiences, whatever they may be, with your current sexuality. And yeah, I’m a helpless nosey bastard because I know these ‘games’ go on so someone must be brave enough to share the awkwardness of these experiences with The Fee so she knows she is not alone in this ‘hobby’ which has progressed to a life style.
Listening to: Space Cowboy - I would die for you
11/28/2002 02:03:00 PM
How is it possible to have so many ugly people at on university? I blame the city. You come to Aberdeen and notice the ratio of ugly people to beautiful people is extraordinarily high. I blame the fish and the oil and the fried Mars Bars.
And so I go to bathe in oil and chew on fish and slurp on deep-fried chocolate and wonder why the ugly gene is so prevalent in me.
Listening to: Scooter and thinking bout Bo and the time we almost lost her to the pavement 3 floors below while she 'pumped it up'...
PS Does anyone else hate bums in thongs? Truly vile.
PPS It appears as though a group of merry gays are 'hiring' themselves out to make dull parties more fabulous than Patsy Stone... J Bo... they are calling you...
11/27/2002 04:35:00 PM
I watched a programme the other day on asses. Being a connoisseur of a fine ass I thought I was really going to be spoilt. I thought my desire for a good ass in bootcuts would be satisfied but alas, all I was treated to was a bunch of woman wanting asses the size and shape of J Lo's and going to hideous lengths to get such a bulgy butt. Apparently the J Lo arse is trendy right now and many a desperado is gettnig their ass shaped and gouged and bruised so under a great deal of clothes, it will look like the big bum of said J Lo. We saw one woman getting lipo from every possible area so the fat could be injected into her butt so the surgeon could play around with it, draw on it, shove scalpels and needles in it for the end result of an ass you could prop books upon. The woman in question marched around with her new jumbo bum like a duck would waddle its way to the pond. What's attractive about a bum that sticks out so far that I could have rested my pint and my 4 course dinner on it from the other end of the beach? And what is elegant about swaning around like you've got 4 fists shoved up your shitter? I don't get it. And what's worse, I think this phenomenum will give rise to the classic blue jean arse. People are going to be marching around trying to squeeze their once small butts into under sized jeans, with the pockets of such tiny dolls' jeans resting so far up their ass that their ass is elongated to the point whereby it appears to be banging off the backs of their ankles. Tell me why this is right? It's not. J Lo has gotta go and she's gotta take that ass with her because while it may suit her shape and figure, it can surely not suit every bikini clad tart whos boyfriend pays for this surgery so he can play with her fleshy cheeks from another room in the house so he doesn't have to look at her moaning, plastic, champagne swilling face.
However, if someone with such an ass would like to get together with me so I can have my chips with real gravy then please do get in touch.
11/26/2002 11:34:00 AM
This is my new love. We are to be married very soon. I'd love to invite you all but sadly Jodhi has requested that I keep the numbers to a minimum because she is scared of Britney's wrath. I have told my Britney not to worry, that she is always number 1 but till the day I can have Britney all to myself, without fear of curly Justin and The Lord interferring, I will have Jodhi May as my wife. She doesn't mind playing second best to my love Britney and is using me as second best til Nan King finally comes to life. She is, however, worried that Britney will come to the wedding where I will be decked out in a beautiful white dress (which will do nothing for my hips) and court shoes and yell obscenities at her and this is why I cannot risk telling all where the wedding will take place. But for those who do know, I'll see you at Kings College Chapel at 1pm Saturday, bring vodka and menthols and be ready to fend of an incarnation of Nan King and the real Britney and her 10ft wide bodyguard.
Oh and I found these pictures here. The site is Spanish or Italian and no, I don't speak either well but I do understand the term 'photo gallerie'. I'm very bright.
Oh and if u see no picture of my future wife, refresh the page a couple times and you may find her.
11/25/2002 02:12:00 PM
Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla
11/22/2002 02:35:00 PM
Imagine also fainting in the cafe of Marks and Spencers as you dine with your mum for lunch. Imagine feeling the dizzy sensation sweeping right through you as your head clouds up and the last thing you remember is the lump of chicken that stuck in your throat. You may not remember grabbing at the edge of the table as you slid off your chair, as onlookers gasped and went rushing to your aid and your mum watched on, powerless to stop you from landing in a heap on the linoleum floor. And then imagine the scene created as cafe assistants look uneasy and don't know what to do and contemplate calling the ambulance 'just to be safe'. Someone slaps your face, another gives you water and you are revived with no dignity in tact and you are left traumatised from the humiliation and wandering what the hell just happened and why you are lying in amongst the crumbs and loose hairs of Markie's clientelle with your mum tugging at you and making sure your clothes are arranged properly, so no flesh has come undone from the confines of your clothing. Imagine all the old ladies yelling 'food poisoning' and crowding you with their powdery talcy rinses and trying to force feed you 'pandrops' from the lining of their bags. Then imagine being wheeled back to work in a 1954 style wheelchair with a tartan picnic rug draped across your knee for comfort and warmth. Imagine the reactions of all the familiar faces in the street as they watch, bewildered, as you are pushed fiercely by a mum with no control over the gammy wheel, down the street you normally have no problems walking on. Imagine your mum's face as she pushes too hard and the wheel about gives way and you are slammed into a wall, legs first. Imagine the further tramua of your jeans being shredded by this latest accident and your hairy legs which you meant to shave that morning (and every other morning for the past month) being put on display for all them hotties you adore and maybe thought about asking out one day. Imagine the looks on their faces when they see that you are as feminine as Arnie and you can see their minds ticking over with thoughts of what other hair you may not tend. Imagine what this would do to your reputation and your entire life? You may never be seen in public again and you may die a spinster and you may eat your own faeces and you may wallow in a box of bugs and turds for your remaining days while forever being known as the 'hairy girl who fainted in Marks and Spencers'. Oh just imagine.
11/22/2002 12:23:00 PM
And I'm late for work. It's 10.25 am and I start at 10 am. I have yet to make the call that says 'daddy, i have ring sting, I will be late' because right now all I can think about is how upset The Queen will be if I really have lost the spool containing pictures of her beloved whore Jordan. She was so small you wouldn't have seen her in the photos anyway.
Tis time that I must go and attend to this out of control hair which hasn't been cut since january and is spilt end central and also I go to see if I qualify for the title of Miss Flatulance 2002. Quite probably.
11/21/2002 10:27:00 AM
Anyway, you know I will stick to no diet because food is the first, last and only thought on my mind at any one time so I figured that I could justify the amount I eat (enough to feed all them homeless people that torment me with their ‘hey fatty give us some change’ taunts’) if I up-ed the amount of walking I do. Or I could go to the gym. Ha! Imagine this dollop at the gym with all them slender types with muscles in places there should never be muscles, with those super skinnies who shimmy themselves around the gym as though they are either on the dancefloor or in a porno. Vomitice? It really is. Jealous? I really am. I wish I could open my legs wider than a 50 year old whore or maybe even more than a millimetre so they chaf no more. There’s nothing worse than friction burns at the top of your thighs.
I had a conversation with someone the other day about ‘gym fear’ and we thought we might begin our own little dance class for those, like us who are too scared of wobbling our bits around in front of them bleached blonde, manly muscled types. We thought we’d call it ‘Dollops Do Dance’. We’ve yet to recruit an instructor but at the rate the Queen of Fun is going, with all them pies for breakfast and all them peanut butter M&Ms she’s scoffing, I think she is a likely candidate. Anyone else wanna come along and shake those 5 bellies and wiggle all your asses in the one place? The only specification is that you must have more than 1 chin and your thighs must rub at the top and your knees must be dimply and you must have dollopy fingers which could be mistaken as pork sausages. See you there fellow dollops.
And so I go to remove all mirrors from my house because if I have another tantrum in front of one because my hair is baggy or my ass is wide or my bellies are trippin’ me up or my feet are broader than Brazil, I am likely to do myself, or at least the mirror, an injury. I therefore conclude that I am indeed vile.
Listening to: The merry sound of cheese being sliced and being placed upon 16 (I mean 6 … really) cream crackers and being topped with Branston pickle. Heaven really is a place on earth. Cheers Belinda.
Also Listening to: Justin’s album, beautiful. I love him.
11/19/2002 02:53:00 PM
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.
11/15/2002 02:04:00 PM
So, not everyone was offended, by that damn poll, which has had more references than my beloved, Britney for fucks sake.
One last thing and Fisting: Yay or Nay will never be mentioned again: The following is Charmin's reply to them that got offended. How I love this woman.
Miss fee, don't YOU apologize! I think you ARE shy, incredibly CRASS and yet deee-lightfully honest. Truth be known, I think that fisting either scares you, or does not interest you in the slightest, but you read about it in my post and wanted to know if you are missing out. And you wanted to know what others thought about the girth of someone's entire hand in their finer parts. (I said nothing about ass my dear.) And SO WHAT if you are so bold to question it, that's your "style." Seeing, hearing, and reading something foreign to you makes you wonder what it's all about. And then you write about it in the purest stream of consciousness form I have ever seen. I have read many writers who claim to be stream of consciousness, but you my dear are the purest. You can also be judgemental just like meredith, but YOU are never too dignified to talk about it, and are never afraid, at least in your writing, about being too bold. That is what I love about the fee.
11/15/2002 12:35:00 PM
charmin! charmin! charmin! This lady is amazing. I just got the hottest Britney poster ever, in the history of Britney posters. I can now remove that age old Steps poster where they went all bondage and looked stupid in spikes and plether. Now that's offensive. So I am far too excited and may not even unravel the poster.... but that's another story completely. Thank you :-)
Today is another day at the office. I say 'another' like it's something I do often but I do it rarely happens these days. My time is too focused with uni work, fisting and nonsense. I have nothing to share with you, no fashion feux pas, no turd stories (except the one where I was forced to clean up a turd that was engrained into the tiny carpet at work after some rude customer left his skidmark) and no tales of Bo, or Gobby but fear not... there's a night in the pub to be had tomorrow so I am quite sure there will be plenty of stories for me to share with you very shortly, when my life has something more interesting in it than ridiculous polls. Yeah right, I'll be straight before my life becomes interesting.
And off i go to paint my nails some shiny barbie pink colour and read all about the trashwhore's impending attempted murder accomplish trial. Life doesn't get much better than that.
11/14/2002 02:19:00 PM
It seems as though I have managed to offend a number of people with my poll. Well, I apologise, no offence was meant but if you read my site before you would have known what to expect before visiting it to get to the poll. I use foul language, I have an immature sense of humour and I speak a lot of shit. I know this and all you who read my site know this. I never mean to offend anyone with anything I say, it's stupid, it's irrelevant but if it makes the people who read it enjoy it or smile for even a second then it has served its purpose. My language, as was so rightly pointed out is not 'eloquent', it's really not supposed to be. I'm quite sure I could garble a heap of shite in 'eloquent' language if I really tried but it's not in keeping with my style so that's why I write the way I do. I can't expect everyone to enjoy it but then I certainly don't enjoy every site I read, it's just not possible. Anyway, I can't say anything else about it because what was meant as a joke has been taken out of context.
And for the record... for you lovely people who did not take my poll seriously and did dignify it with an answer, it would appear as though the majority of you ladies love a finger and many enjoy a whole bunch of dirty fingernails. So... for the end result... all that was conclusive was finding out that lesbos have varied sex. Really Fee?? Yes. It's true. Not all lesbos have sex in the same manner. Shallow minded Fee has had her horizons broadened with that revelation :-) So, like I say, I didn't expect it to get so misunderstood and I'd promise not to do it again but this is me and as happened this time, it will probably happen all over again unknowingly, just when I think I am having a bit of fun and whoompf... moral outrage is sparked. But thanks to those who joined in with the spirit of my crap and offensive poll anyway...
11/14/2002 12:56:00 PM
11/13/2002 02:55:00 PM
11/13/2002 01:22:00 PM
Charmin, sent me something in the post that The Queen delights in but unfortunately these treats are unavailable over here. I thought this a remarkably kind gesture because despite knowing Charmin only from online, it’s the sort of gesture a friend would commit to. I know The Queen, who shows gratitude like she shows any emotion, is extremely grateful for this and while I meant to give her all of the packets… something happened last night between me and the m&ms and before I could say ‘fat turd’ half of one bag was already gone. Oh but they were so so good J So, thank you J I hope I can return the favour to you but really, sending haggis (Scotland’s national dish which is a mixture of sheep guts and floor sweepings) is not an option. Foot and mouth and general health and safety will not allow this. Oatcakes I can do.
While I’m on the subject of friends, J Bo wrote a lovely blog entry yesterday about our group of friends. She said she never thought she would find a friend who would judge her and here she was, lucky enough to find a whole gang of them. I couldn’t have put it better myself. That’s hardly surprising though. I’ve always had friends but usually only a couple at a time as people cannot handle The Fee and her weirdness so it’s quite amazing that I now have a whole group of close friends who are equally weird and make me feel all kinds of good, just knowing they are there. There’s always someone there for you, no matter what your problems may be. Be that a constipation problem, a lack of sex problem or even an over excessive muff puffing problem (will name no names…) and it’s so good when we can all get together and act as we always do when we are in our group: immature and loud and having more fun than you could imagine. It’s so hilarious when we hang out. There’s always far too much to laugh at and I’m constantly going home to patch up my split sides and wipe the saliva from my mouth which has over talked and over guffawed. And while the J Bo worries that next year, some of us will go our own ways and leave this place, I do not think that far ahead. I don’t want to and I do think that while friendships may not always be as close as they are, they will always be there and it isn’t the hardest thing in the world to stay in touch with people you like as much as I like my friends. Even if it’s a text or 2 a week just to know you are all thinking about each other. I hate how I have to grow up sometime and I hate change. I hate making new friends. There’s always room in our group for more, we are very accommodating but I don’t want to go and leave the best friends I have ever known. I know. I will set up home in a box in town and work my ass at the harbour so I never have to go. They wont take me alive you know. I only wish we could have all met somewhere else so we didn’t all want to go running faster than pre cum out of this shit hole. But like I say, I aint going anywhere, they’ll carry my remains around in a box long after I’m gone, they can’t get rid of me, I’m as stubborn as a skidmark so I can stop thinking about it for the moment. Let me instead think about the cranberry and brie sandwich I devoured yesterday in one bite. 31 grams of fat in one sandwich! My good lord! I deserve to be jumbo sized.
Listening to: Backstreet Boys greatest hits… it reminds me of the Halloween party… that’s my excuse anyway… that’s your fault BO.
11/13/2002 11:08:00 AM
Since I began blogging I have discovered many people and their weird and wonderful ways which I would never have known about had I not emersed myself into the blogging lifestyle in order to whittle away the dull hours of my dull life.
I mean, I read spangle blog everyday, never fail to crack a smile over it and yet, despite miss woo living in the same city as moi and knowing at least one of the same people I do, I have never met the lady. I have read about her life, chatted on msn and seen her picture but still she remains as unknown as a penis.
Of course, then there is Mr Trashwhore who is no longer at uni but if I didn't read his blog I wouldn't know anything about his girlfriend's ma or about his latest misdemeanor which saw him being arrested on suspiscion of being an accesory to murder only 3 days ago. I hope we haven't lost him to the scary people of Aberdeen but if we have, at least his blog is still entertaining.
I also must make mention here of Straight Man A who I link to as religiously as I kiss girls. Man A is a subtley amusing writer and should update more often. I wish that were an order that you would adhere to.
Being a blogger has also led one of my loyal 'fans' and I use the term very loosely to set up on her own. No longer satisfied with the hilarity she causes when she leaves a comment, the J Bo decided to put my shit site to shame and start her own one which has the capability of being more political than Tony Blair. (sorry, couldn't think of anything witty to go with 'political' considering I don't even know what the word means.) Today's entry just made me smile a heck of a lot.
So, while fellow Aberdonians have realised there is nothing better to do here in a city of shit, I have also become acquainted with many other bloggers from just about everywhere.
First came a woman named Charmin who I believe to be a bit of a ladies lady. The lady uses words such as 'poly-amorous' in every day sentences while I have trouble even spelling them so this lady had to be mine. In a sense.
And there was a young lady called Ariel, after what I do not know and if truth be told I do not even know this lady's real name. I was won over by pictures and of course the writing. Maybe you will be too.
Just as I was getting used to having a good number of blogs to visit, I was visited by a girl named Kitty. Anyone with the name Kitty would win me over but this was the start of something beautiful. In my head at least
Finally, I want to mention Greta, a very hot lady who is nu to my site. I think you will also approve Gobby Bobby... check this girl out but remember, her 5% lesbo is all for me... well we can dream.
And so, I do hope you take the time to visit these links cos it fuckin hurt my hand sorting them out so so me a favour and read at least one. I have nothing of interest to tell you today or no grotesque opinions I wish to voice. I feel I have become rather stale of late, hence the slight change in my colour scheme. I decided the old look was slightly too brash, even by my standards and I hope you all approve of the move away from the blue and massive letters. I can now view my own page without the shame of a huge
Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesboscreaming at me and the entire university.
You know, it's even been at least a week since I spotted an accentuated fanny and that was the Queen of Fun's so I don;t suppose it counts. I havent seen a classic blue jeans arse in about 4 days and the last time I saw a perm? A good few hours ago. At least I can always count on tapered jeans making an appearance wherever there may be people. And I will leave you now so I can go home and eat some good food and not worry that Rose Street is on fire (which it is by the way) but before I do, can I just say that stonewashed denim will never be fashionable. I'm tellin you there. Yeah you who barged into the sandwich queue with your sharp nose who thought that flared stonewashed was the way forward, that I, The Fee, should stand aside for you because your stonewashed get up was not tapered. I doubt it. I know they came from somewhere as tacky as New Look so don't stand there with your fake adidas and crap jeans and think you are trendy because my arse clad in leopard print is more trendy. I've seen more style on a naked man. Oh and by the way, your dad is gay. Not only gay but a cottager so the next time you come near me with your snidey looks and your short tie dye legs I will tell you this, loudly.
Listening to: The sound of my angry fingers banging on the keyboard.
11/12/2002 04:11:00 PM
11/12/2002 01:45:00 PM
11/11/2002 04:09:00 PM
11/11/2002 01:45:00 PM
Anyway, am still deeply traumatised about the leering men in the drippingly sweaty bar and must go bleach my entire body to erase any trace they may have left behind as they patted and caressed their way to get to Jordan before launching into a humiliating rendition of 'get yer tits oot for the lads' Oh I love Aberdonians I really really do.
11/10/2002 05:50:00 PM
Listeing to: Someone wearing brown remarking how it's the most beautiful colour ever to grace the earth. They must die.
11/08/2002 03:58:00 PM
11/07/2002 12:54:00 PM
And so I go to GAP to get accused of shoplifting and to shout obscenities at moley girl who's bound to trip over that lip soon enough.
Listening to: the voices in my head tellin me that I should poison all GAP staff so they must close the shop due to a skitter outbreak.
And for the record. i do think it's possible to love more than 1 person at once.
11/07/2002 10:56:00 AM
There's always a sneaky puddle somewhere you least expect it, like behind the toilet as though they were trying so hard to aim for the bowl or in the washing basket on all the clean clothes and you dont notice till you put your best tee on and your ready to party that it stinks of doggie urine. Pee is better than poop for cleaning up though. I'm sure we've al had the experience of getting up in the middle of the night, blissfully unaware of the turd delight that is waiting for you in front of your bedroom door, right? I'm sure we've all stood in a fresh jobbie barefooted when all bleary eyed and not fully awake, right? And I'm also very sure we've all proceeded to wash the soiled foot in the sink and pick out the stubborn pooh with a tooth brush, right? What? It's just me? Oh well, it's only happened once. Oh but then there as that other time...
Anyway, I don't appreciate fireworks night, not simply because of the frenzy it sends my dogs into but because I knew someone who had their face blown off by a firework. I went to visit him and was freaked out by his melted face which healed remarkably well and have hated them since. Also, I'm a bit like a dog, I'm nervous. People of a nervous disposition shouldn't be allowed near fireworks and should cower in their bedrooms with wax ear plugs wedged in their ears to eliminate the noise.
This is waht I should have been doing last night but instead, I went to a fireworks party. Actually by the time I had gotten there there were only about 4 left and I stood so far back I was in the next street. It was Big Boy A's girl's party. There were girls from my uni course there that I had never spoken to in my 4 years here so I was slightly apprehensive about walking in their being a big old lesbo. I have not been in a room with that many straight girls since I was a fat ballerina at dance class where I was surrounded by flat chested chicks who fancied the bloke from 2 unlimited and wore shiny lycra. They were good times. Anyway, I was glad of my late arrival as we had missed the earlier trauma when fireworks started shooting directly at the bystanders which caused them to throw themselves into bushes and trees and had them picking shubbery out of their fluffy hoods for hours. No one else seemed to be really drinking, there were glasses of water being passed around and sausages and pie but I drank vodka out of a miniture wine glass and got wasted on about 3 of them. It was weird being with all these 'new' people and when I did utter a word, I made sure my every 't' was pronounced, that I didn't mention anything about jobbies and that I asked for 'toilet roll' as opposed to 'bog roll'. It was quite odd but it was a pleasant evening and despite my reservations I was glad I went. I wondered how J Bo or Gobby Bobby or Beautiful Boy would have reacted in this situation? I wondered if Beautiful Boy would have found a dress to put on? Would J Bo have played 'Tiffany' on repeat as we all ran around the table and would Gobby Bobby have been yelling and checking our every ladys' ass? I can't answer these questions but I can go try on my new puke-like jeans while watching yet more Tipping The Velvet as I eat enough to feed a starving country eight times over.
So long, farewell, auf weidersien, goodbye.
11/06/2002 02:58:00 PM
11/05/2002 01:25:00 PM
Whoever said wet leaves are a hazard certainly knew what they were talking about.
11/05/2002 01:01:00 PM
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.
11/04/2002 01:45:00 PM
11/04/2002 01:07:00 PM
PS As much as I'm dying to share my weekend goings on with you, I'm still suffering from stoned paranoia and keep thinking about the hallucinations that were so vivid last night. At least I hope they were all figments of my stupid imagaination. Either that or there were diamonds in my vomit and I missed an opportunity to be very rich and very famous. And if the things I witnessed were all real, someone was doing beautifully constructed ballet poses and now I'm very disturbed.
11/03/2002 07:07:00 PM
11/01/2002 01:30:00 PM
11/01/2002 01:25:00 PM
Adventures of Charmin
Ariel Pay it Forward
Come to the Dark Side...
Dirty Little Homos
Fash Mag Slag
Het (aka Quickfit)
Hit the Jag Spot...
Knee Deep In It...
Life and Times of a Desperado
On Top of the World>