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


Thursday, January 30

Today I look like a pigeon. I'm grey mostly with a few splashes of colour and a puffed out chest. I hate the cold. Well that's a lie because I would rather die from frostbite and watch my toes crack off individually than die of heat exhaustion and a sweaty red face. I do hate the way you are often forced to dress in the snow however. Today, to reach my pigeon like state, I had to don my extra huge grey cord coat which I am convinced my mother put wrongly in the wash as now it has about as much shape as a sack of tatties. Not only that, in order to gain the puffed out chest look which was sadly nothing to do with me having sprouted a mammoth set of tits over night, I had to tuck in endless amounts of scarf which really is quite suffocating. It's pink and mohair though. Am I forgiven for looking like a sky rat? Wait for the hair though. The only thing about me that doesn;t look pigeoney. You would be forgiven in fact for thinking I was a rampant lion beast escaped from the zoo because it's vastly out of control and very mane like. Either that or I am Worzel Gummage. I know I regularly look like a combination of many things but a pigeon crossed with a lion is not a good look for me. A bit like hair in the rain. Or my whole self in a wet tshirt. Or my hands carressing anob. It's just all wrong. And you know what made my day even better, after scaring passing drivers inot thinking a half-man mostly-beast type thing was running amok, I then had to wait in a bus shelter with no shelter for 30 minutes. What's worse is the fact that I struggled to get my ginormous body onto the bus, to find one available seat with a fucking lesbian with her hiking boots all over the chair. She shifted them aside far anough for me to see the mega wet patch they had left so I was left perching on the edge of the seat as she grinned her big gay face at me. Vile. So then I flashed my big gay book around in an 'up your ass' kinda fashion and she moved her feet right of the seat, spread her legs wider than the ocean and went all coy. Dyke. Needless to say when I arose from my seat I was now the bearer of the wet patch. Lesbo. Anyway, enough about the excitement of snow having finally rached Aberdeen in good amounts. Well, at least it looks pretty. It doesn;t feel so good however when cars deliberatly splash the inches of black slush against your new jeans. Poofs.

And so I go to hope the snow is still here when Love comes home so I can get even more snuggles. Althought there will be no more sex in public as it is now illegal. I think that's all very well in Winter cos who wants to get their chuff out when its minus degrees but in Summer.... come on! Will the cocktail 'sex on the beach' now be changed to 'sex in the bed with the unwashed sheets that may give you bed bugs and cause a drastic decline in your sex life because of the monotony'? Oh but be glad in the knowledge that gays can still shag in public toilets. As long as the door is shut. That's ok then. I can still bare my chuff with the aroma of stale piss clinging to my adventurous nasal hairs. Phew.