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 10

I spent most of Saturday night sprawled on the floor of the Gay Bar. This was due to vodka/cherry brandy/champagne concoctions and to being spun round too frequently by the clumsiest poof in the world. There's nothing more humilating than 2 lesbos and a poof rolling around in a big gay heap on a soiled floor on a heaving Saturday night. Nothing more humilating except than having your skirt around your waist while in such a human sandwich situation. Say no more. It was fun though. Even with the dirt smeared across our faces. I think I enjoyed this night so much because I really couldn't see. The temporary blindness was of course caused by the afore metioned cocktails. It meant I coundn't see those people who insist on talking to you on a Saturday night and then completely ignore you on any other occasion that doesn't involve copious amounts of drink and poppers. It also meant I couldn't see the rabble of bad hair which I know was going on. It always seems as though too many gays (both genders) are competing to see who has the highest peak, or the widest spikes and generally whose hair is the most ridiculous. Everyone's a winner in that case. I used to be concerned that the peroxide fumes in the gay bar would be enough to have the bar certified a helath hazard but now it's all about product. Hairspray, hair wax, hair gel, sculpting putty, wet look, dry look, ultra textured, firm hold, relaxed hold and even, dare I say hair moose for christ sake. So over used are these hair products that each person who has half a pharmacy on their head must sound a radar before lighting a fag to ensure all other fellow chemical heads vacate the immediate area for fear of sudden blazes. It is also no longer possible to tell when people are trying to loosen their assholes by sniffing the usually vile smelling poppers because with every inhalation now you choke on hair products instead. While I am a strong believer in non fluffy hair, sometimes a person can go too far to try and be Alex 'Fame Academy' Parks.

Aside from the hair so large and pointy that you leave with puncture wounds, and the fact I was thrown so recklessly around, it was a fantastic night, even if I did lose the will to dance when my Britney came on. I was found side-stepping in a corner with limp arms as Lil Red did her best to keep me standing as she pulled off the moves that should only be saved for the privacy of our own living room :-)

And so I go lose myself in my two day hangover with fat sandwiches and buffy and hugs.