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I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else My Profile
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New York. I'm going. Yes really. I got a phonecall on Friday asking how I was fixed for 10 days in August and if I wasn't doing anything better would I and my girl like to go to New York. There was no time to weigh up the 'can i afford it' and 'shit what if I panic attack on the plane' options. Clearly there was nothing else to say aside from' eh, yeah'. My ever obligin work agreed to give me a further two weeks off and so I'm going. Just like that. So needless to say I'm totally high. The Gentleman, Beautiful Boy, Lil Red and myself let loose in the big city is all too much to take in. I have been trawling the Internet looking at all the cool things I will see, buy and do and apart from the rainbow brite and care bears sweatbands, I have a feeling that the highlight of my holiday will be the gay roller disco. I don;t think I will take my own spangly boots for the occasion but I will most certainly be hiring a pair, getting twatted and skating like I, or no one else, has ever skated before. I can barely comprehend the fact that I'm really getting to go. Sadly the main thing I wanted to do, should I ever visit New York, was go to britney's restaurant and steal lots of things but yes it went bankrupt within months. Doubt it. Does she know who I am? Apparently not. Anyway, so much to do such as get a passport (Dic) and locate some more far too cool shops so if anyone can recommend anywhere, do let me know.
Today's Likes Bloodhound Gang Thinking about how much fun we are gonna have My jaunt to the country on Saturday with my girl Bandanas round wrists Hello Kitty armwarmers Today's Dislikes Not having a passport (spaz) Spinny tiredness Oh the jealousy The farts that follow North American Potato Cassorole - stand back My power diet - 6 weeks to lose at least one gut. Smart Britney Wannabe 
6/30/2003 01:15:00 PM I came across this link via M. Luminous and I will now visit THIS site daily. You should too.
Britney Wannabe
6/27/2003 12:40:00 PM Hairdressers really bug the shit outta me. Not simply because they chat to you about their holidays, their boyfriends, what they will eat for lunch and sometimes as an afterthought, what you want done to your hair, but because they cut your hair into stupid styles and call it 'cutting edge' or 'trendy'. They will happily hack chunks from you beautiful locks quite randomly until you look like you have alapecha (sorry) and charge you thirty quid for the displeasure. It really pisses me off. What ever happened to a simple trim? Well we all know that 'can you take a little off' translates in their language as 'let's remove 6" from one side and 9" from the other'. Maybe I am boring, maybe my hair is boring but when I say i want only a trim then that doesn't mean I want fluffy layers and feathered bits where there should be no feathered bits. They totally take liberties. I think hair is one of the most important aspects of a person and I would definitly say it was my 'best' quality (but hell there aint much to fight for the title) and when they massacre your hair like they are Norman Bates it's just wrong and totally insensitive. They always grin inanely and stand so proud with their treble mirrors as they display the horror they have created. Are they blind and do they cut your hair with bandaged hands? No, they just think you are stupid and will hail their ass because you will have 'cool' hair when really you look more like Edward Scissorhands. But at least they inflict this same hideous treatment upon their own hair. They do everything to extremes. Their laquered quiffs are a metre high, their hair is never symetrical, their partings are always diagonal, zig-zagged or more twsited than Marilyn Manson and their hair is never one two or three colours but more rainbow than a goddamn rainbow. I don't understand. And then people call it cool because it must be cool to have turrets and mullets because they are hairdressers and surely a hairdresser wouldn't have uncool hair would they? It's like they are always trying to better each other and for every inch their collegue removes they will remove four and add a colour. I don't know who died and made hairdressers cool but they need to get to grips with their scissors and just calm down for a minute. I don't pay half a weeks wage to get a hair cut my 3 year old neighbour could have created better.
And so I go to find something else to moan about. It wont be hard. PS I have a feeling that girls at this uni are becoming a bit more easy going about pooping in public. Is this the Summer of Skid? It just seems that every turd leaves a trace. I'm sure when uni was more densely populated skids were few and far between but now I cannot enter a cubicle withough being faced with pebble-dashing of some degree. I really wish they'd leave the urge to turd at home or at least wait till I have eaten my peanut butter sandwich. Today's Likes My double length sweatband (pink/black/studded) Asti Martini Not having to work nights or weekends for the next 6-weeks Bracelets that clink Wimbledon (hot chicks,small skirts) Today's Dislikes The 'something' that appears to have congealed on my face People being sad The nailvarnish I have on which I am sure was burgandy but is now a nasty shade of brown... Change The vile smell that appears to be clinging to my wide nostrils Britney Wannabe
6/25/2003 12:30:00 PM I decided to go wander. I couldn't be bothered actually moving to do this, considering all I would see in this almost empty place is 2 sweaty students, the odd lost lecturer and about 5 bored kitchen staff so instead I thought I'd wander in cyber space. Nothing unusual for the ever seekin excitement Miss Fee but I always find cool, odd or just plain shite weblogs that I never remember so have decided to record them here for my pleasure. Or yours. But mostly mine. I don't know if you actually visit my links but you should. I usually have them here for a reason. But I guess that figures. So I picked a random webring and followed a link from each page. I based my search on titles that held my attention long enough for me to direct my mouse toward them.
So, I picked a random blog from Blogging Brits and this Wookie will be dumping more than just thoughts on the world if the canteen curry continues... beware indeed... Our danger-of-dumping Wookie took us far and wide... or no where actually... Not a link in sight and so I was forced to pick another random blog from a webring. And so I found the title 'Girly Gang: 5 girls and a blog party' too good to miss out on. Sadly it was all blog and no party and no real gang propping up the door allowing only those on the guest list in. I was already for a fight too. And once again no links. NO links whatsoever. I don't like blogs that have no links. It broke my stride. What, you too good to form links with other sites? Not even a webring link so how can the gang be part of the one that I found them via?? So i retraced my steps and tried again. It had to be tongue in cheek, mainly because I thought it was a metaphor for rimming. It was not. I moved on again. Big fat blog because I thought it was a metaphor for me. It could have been. It was about obesity and all things related. I was once again stuck for links getting annoyed. And just when I'm ready to abandon my blog journey that was one wrong turn after another, I find this title: You are a china shop, I am a bull. And then I find the blog. And then I wasn't so sad afterall. And from there I was introduced to Leigh the Pony because Leigh is a pony. Yes. And lovely Leigh passed me toward My Little Pony which completed my short trip through cyberspace and I managed to visit at least 6 blogs I have never seen before. It was quite enjoyable if not a little frustrating and reminded me that there is a pony called Lickety Split which people still don't believe me about. Away now to justify to my lecturer why I have done very little but gotten paid to do so much more. Aah. Britney Wannabe
6/24/2003 04:06:00 PM Don't you just wish that the world was a friendlier place? Or at least like one of these freakishly cheery neighbourhoods where you exchange pleasantries with everyone who passes without feeling like a loner or a pervert. I wish people weren't so suspicious of a smiley face. Why are people so scared to talk to people they pass in the street? I aint talkin about striking up a full blown conversation with every freak and geek but you know, a simple hello and a light tilt of the mouth and raise of the eyebrow to acknowledge someone's presense is all I ask. I hate when you walk down a deserted street and you see a solitary person walking toward you because then I get all, 'do I make eye contact?' 'do I smile slightly? ' will i go all out and say hey?' and by the time you've constructed flawless arguements both in favour and against each option you have marched past the solitary figure with your head down muttering to yourself. I just feel so awkward in these situations and I wish people were just more comfortable with an acknowledgement. but then I guess the rule is 'Don't talk to strangers' and it's embedded in your head since you were old enough to pretend you care. Older people are more forthcoming with their greetings for strangers I have noticed. But then they get labelled weirdos and people try their best to aviod being stuck with them at the bus stop. I mean sometimes I do wish the lil old lady wouldn't talk to me about her corns and bad blue rinses but it's much nicer to sit and listen to Peg Leg than it is to sit with my head trailing along the ground and praying that no one will acknowledge me. So, if you see me in the street please say hello. It takes two seconds to say hello and it's less effort to ignore someone. But a simple hello will suffice. I don't want your life story and I don't care to be questioned and if you stand within my personal space I will slap you hard because the invasion of personal space is not something I suffer lightly. So, don't break my rules but please dont pass me by without a thought because you could make a a lesbo happy and surely that's something that everyone wants to do right?
Away to see how many people I can get to say hello to me without resorting to yelling, screaming and nipping. Today's Likes My new research job Being paid for Internet trawling (......) The total lack of supervision in this job New Blogger Flattery, it really does get you everywhere :-) Today's Dislikes Split ups :-( Chapped lips when they stick to cold cans The fact I been feeling so shitey lately My hair. Big. Again Britney Wannabe
6/23/2003 01:58:00 PM By George I think she's done it. Actually I have. I got my 2:1. I feel so special. Apparently I'm getting a prize for my greatness. Actually I don't know why I am getting a prize but I am. The only problem with this grade is that now I will have to do those things I didn't really want to do but said I would because I didn't think I would actually get the grade. Here is that list as a little reminder of the torture I will now put myself through, voluntarily.
1) Having never been upside down on a roller coaster and being scared to do so, I will do this. 2) I will watch a scary movie at the cinema. Something else I have never done and hoped I never would. 3) I will give up cheese for 2 weeks 4) I will read a 'classic', if I manage to stay awake. 5) I will wear a skirt to graduation 6) I will get a new piercing 7) I will lose weight (giving up cheese for 2 weeks may allow me to do this...) 8) I will learn to drive The only thing I actually look forward to is the new piercing. I just needed the motivation to add another to my diminishing collection. The removal of cheese from my diet will begin for 14 days on Monday. I would start it today but as I am celebrating, I need cheese. And lots of it. I think for my scary movie I will see Identity but I must be allowed to sit on a aisle seat incase of sudden bowel eruptions. Sadly this is not an option for the roller coaster thing. I will just have to let it fly through the seat of my pants. The skirt at graduation is a slight cop out because I will wear it over trousers and let's not yet talk about the possibility of learning to drive, properly. I mean I already have 63 lessons under my more than ample belt so how many more can it possibly take?? Something else I gotta tell you. I have been offered a 'studentship' at the university for 6 weeks. Paid. I start on Monday. Do you think I am now an official geek? Or am I just talented, as a certain someone who also bagged a 2:1 might say? I'd go with the former. Though I will never resort to brown, forest green or chinos. The glasses and the unkempt hair are not a problem however. Anyway, this nerd is off to do very little and prepare for tomorrow night's party. Life is all good. Britney Wannabe
6/20/2003 02:22:00 PM I know exactly just how uncool sweatbands have become. I was aware that the trend for this accessory that I have been ridiculed about over the past three years was spirraling out of control and into 'sad' territory when they began to appear in the shite trailer trash shops such as International and Quiz but now it has gone too far. Not only is every second NED wearing one (or unfortunately for them, one on each wrist) but now as good as all the inhabitants of Big Brother are cutting around in them. When the likes of the loveable yet oh-so-dorky Cameron are sporting them it just makes me realise that this trend should die. I will never give up my sweatbands, even though they have become more popular than david beckham because they are my favourite accessoy in the history of accessories and so I must hope, as with every other trend, that they will slink back out of fashion very shortly and I can be left to be unfashionable yet sometimes quirky Miss Fee with her own sense of sytle, or lack of it. And please please people, if you really must wear them and totally cheapen my thang, wear them properly. One on each wrist is not a good look, neither is any with sporting motifs (you listening Angelika from CBBC?). Get over it. Please. Find a new craze. And please by-pass fingerless gloves and arm warmers and the mesh sleeves.
So, how was your weekend? Mine was swell but the two day hangover is not. I managed to stay up till, wait for it... 6am. Only once have I ever lasted that long and that was some new year when I ended up on the wrong bus home and had to walk for miles and hours in the not so desirable areas of the city to get to my home. I am such a lightweight and a sleepy turd that I am usually packed away to bed before I turn violent or weepy by 2am. So I don't know what happened on Saturday. We drank for about nine hours (and I didn't puke, woo hoo) and I can probably piece together about an hours worth of events. It was fantastic though. There were no traumas (though my sweet J Bo, can we please please listen to at least one full song next time??), no vomits and plenty of carrying ons. There was tomato juggling, fanny showing, poofs recreating the fanny look for themselves, much bad dancing, poof porn, many declarations of 'friends forever' and generally so much hilarity. But, after a whole 3/4 hours sleep from Satudary to Sunday, yesterday I was feeling so weird. I hallucinated a little and felt like I may pass out at any given moemnt but he pivotal point was when I went out with my folks for a Fathers day meal and had to leave early because I had to keep shaking my head to keep me from spinning out into madness. It was not a good look. But anyway, it was worth it. And now I go to meet my J Bo for some much needed coffee so enjoy your Monday. Me and mocha will. Today's Likes (this may be hard) Harry Potter out on Saturday! My hair, today it decides to behave Cuddles My baby Lil Red My nails, so beautiful Today's Dislikes People who drink through the sports cap on bottles. The noise is sick. Too many men in chinos. Embarrassing yourself in front if those who know you least The fact I can barley see out these alsmost non-existant eyes Baldy Bushes (contradiction) Britney Wannabe
6/16/2003 11:40:00 AM Oh my god. I was on a roller coaster the other day. I haven’t been on one since I developed a fear of them years ago. I used to be quite happy to swing on the chair planes and whoosh through the walzters (sorry but in Aberdeen that’s pretty much our options) but then something happened and I have been fully scared of them since. The something that happened was being forced to go one The Pepsi Max Drop in London when I was so hungover I could have been dead and I’d been up all night (we were too minky to check into a hotel so decided to dance all night instead) so was seriously lacking in sleep. My god it was traumatising. I think I had nightmares for months afterwards. But the voices stopped when we hit the bottom. So yeah, Monday I decided to quash my fear. It was a beautiful day. I’d been soaked on the pathetic log flume and figured I could handle it. It wasn’t a full upside down job but more of a family ride so yeah, it probably wasn’t that fast. I couldn’t even fit my wide hips comfortably into the tiny seats so yeah, I guess more of a kids ride. I think the most enjoyable part was when the safety bar was forced between my legs. Although the next time I decide to go on a roller coaster I should not wear a skirt with vastly holey trousers underneath. Not a good look to have your skirt hitched all the way up past your chuff to reveal your holey crotch area… But Fee-Fee did indeed get her thrills. Anyway, as soon as I got on I knew it was a bad idea. I wanted off but then it started to ascend a hill and I was stuck. Jesus. You should have seen my face when it went round the ‘fast’ bits. My face, clearly visible to the people on the ground (including a Lil Red) was so vilely contorted it could have been mistaken for meat through a mincer. I swear I looked like I was having a turd. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They were screwed up into tiny little screwy balls and I know for a fact I had a bonny doubler on because I could feel my chin rubbing against my T Shirt. It lasted as long as a wank. I was awarded with beer and cigarettes. I must do it again soon if only for the reward. One fear down, 4,367,000 to go. Life is great.
Britney Wannabe
6/12/2003 10:23:00 AM I think the best part of Saturday night was the fact that my beautiful nails glowed up under UV light. I tried to dance in accordance with this. I attempted to encompass fluttering my fingernails into my already shite dance routine. What a prick. Although not that anyone would have noticed me being the bad-dancing prick through the bodily sweat haze, which was just about unbearable once again. That place is so awful. SO awful and so full of people I can’t stand and who can’t stand me that I continue to go. I go to dance. I go to dance in a place where I can happily slip my girl a tongue, or more depending on state of drunkenness, without getting a cheap alcopop bottle smashed off my head. Although as far as the dancing is concerned, I really shouldn’t bother. As soon as I hit the vodka, all recollection of how to move with coolness evaporates. Not that I am Britney on the dance floor when sober but basically I don’t do dancing without at least 14 alcohol units because then you become all too conscious of how your feet are shuffling and how your arms are flailing like a distressed drowning victim. I just should be made to sit in the corner with ear plugs in so I can’t get hear the overly mixed songs and will therefore not be tempted to be the worst dancer in the room. Ha! Christ, if you could see the moves that people try and pull off in there you’d think I was God on the dancefloor. Clearly I am not the only one who thinks my moves are the coolest in the world when wasted. At least I don’t floor punch or split leap in public however. These hot moves are reserved for Flashdance mornings only you will glad to know.
What else can I say about last night? What about the pseudo friendships that are always so apparent absolutely everywhere? It’s a fickle fickle world out their in the land of gay. People seem to float from group of friends to group of friends, using up their ‘coolness’ with one group and moving on to the next. Of course this isn’t true of all gay people because I for one think that I have genuine friendships that are not based on Saturday night alone. I guess being friends with people on Saturday nights only does not allow you to truly ever get to know a person, to learn all their amazing qualities as well their annoying idiosyncrasies. And vice versa of course. They need never see your tantrums that you have about your work, they never see the issue you have with your self as a whole and basically they never see you sober. Would these Saturday night friends like you the same if they knew you are without the vodka? What do you have to argue with these people about? What do you have to share with these people apart from a common interest in alcohol and dancing? However, with proper friends, maybe more so in a larger group, there is always an issue. It’s impossible to get together without someone being pissed at someone else or without tears. I guess that’s just what happens. I wish it wouldn’t but I guess that my head is always up my arse as far as friends are concerned and I guess I expect too much in my ideal Fee world where everyone would get on equally, there would be no bitching and every night would be perfect. But I guess maybe life would be less interesting without these issues thrown at us huh? I guess if you can remain as a close group, despite everyone’s failings then I guess that’s what true friendship is. Because for every slightly annoying trait each person has (I’m sure I have the most), they have 100 more brilliant traits that remind you of why you are friends in the first place. And life is good and life is great and the birds will sing forever more. Ah, let me ponder on that happy thought for a while. Enough already. Jesus. Did I just get serious for a minute? Depending on how fast you read it could have been anywhere from 2 seconds to a lengthy 10 minutes actually. Anyway, I never know how to end the serious bits so I’ll tell you that talk on Saturday night was prodominently about poop and our endless fascination with the subject. My favourite poop tale of the evening was ‘The never ending story’. Nice. And so I go to wash my belly which I am currently eating my dinner off because then I don’t even have to use my hands os it’s so close to my face. Bu bye now. Today’s Likes Droopy undercarriages My new pink-mirrored ring Big Brother, getting better, Tania anyone? Alcohol farts, nothing more satisfying, apparently Veggie Butteries with cheese slices Today’s Dislikes Being manhandled by lesbians Hot lesbos getting chatted up by vile specimens My queer shape My hair in the humidity, Monica Gellar/Bing has nothing on me The loss of yet another hair extension which leaves me with a sole pink one Britney Wannabe
6/10/2003 12:31:00 PM Desperately Seeking… Wiggy Wilma
Are you between the ages of 33 and 43? Do you live in Aberdeen and drink in Revolution and Jumpin’ Jacks? Do you shop in GAP and Markies on your lunch break? On a Friday night, in the pub straight from work, have you been known to wear thigh chafing brown mock leather trousers? Do you have a friend/sister who also wears such skinny trousers but who looks ten times better in hers than you do? Does your hair, which is brown, fluffy and very bouffant-ic, have a tendency to get larger as the night progresses and even slip forward to give you a distinct pirate look? As you get drunker, do you find yourself harshly pronouncing certain words and trying to be the centre of attention? Again, as you get more wasted (I can’t quite remember your drink), do you find that you have trouble getting in and out of your fake animal skin trousers? Once you are as good as inebriated do you find your global bum shimmying down stairs while you throw your head back in pseudo sexiness? Do you have one gay male friend who you obviously want to ride? And have you ever had your ass prodded by the index finger of what you thought to be a girly red head? If you think this is you, Wiggy Wilma, please contact me. We only want to be your friend. Well really we want to stalk you but we haven’t seen you now in weeks and are worried that you have trimmed your wig and that now we no longer recognise you. And for the record, it wasn’t the red head who stabbed your podgy ass with her pointing finger, it was me but don’t get your chuffers again, I don’t actually want to touch your bare flesh. I just wanted to see if there was movement when your ass, which was so tightly encased in leather, was prodded. Anyway Wilma, or whatever your name is, we really would like to know more about your whereabouts so we can be proper stalkers. I hope you understand. Yours lovingly, The freaks from the bars who can’t help but stare at you. PS Oh and you have a mouth like a hen’s arse. So readers, in case you are wondering what the hell I am rambling about (and not for the first time), basically we saw the most amazingly oddly large haired woman one night and since then we have seen her on a few occasions and we are on a need to know much more basis. I don’t know why. Maybe if you had met this woman she would have had a similar impact on your life. But maybe we just need something to fill the many dull hours in Aberdeen. Anyway, do have a good weekend, mines will probably be full of traumas, such as getting ID-ed at the shite gay bar and then subsequently sweating to near BO death in said gay bar. The heat was so preposterous in that newly carpeted dump (who carpets a club?) that far too many boobless wonders were cutting around in the buff and making those fully clothed both jealous and spewy. Bu bye now. Today’s Likes My nail varnish - so sparkley it’s the bomb (inappropriate for foreplay however) New Boxfresh skirt, tis also the bomb Wensleydale and cranberry cheese Dreaming about never working again Pink camouflage wrapping paper Today’s Dislikes People who hint about stuff but can’t actually come out and say things My hair that just won’t calm down Cliquey people My swollen missing eyes Sock fluff in toes Britney Wannabe
6/06/2003 10:38:00 AM I gave birth to a dog last night. It was scratchy and tickly. Actually it was a cross between a baby and a dog. It was beautiful. It was tiny. It was a dream. I tried to call my baby/puppy Barney, after one of my existing pups who is inappropriately named after a big gay purple dinosaur. We didn’t name him. Now I want a baby. I hate babies. Maybe I want a dog. Another one. Dreams are weird. They have you waking up thinking things that you would never normally think and feeling feelings you would never normally feel. The other day I woke up and was convinced I was a murderer who had killed 4 people throughout the course of my life and the police were closing in. I even had my escape route planned because I was so sure that in reality I really was a serial killer. And what about the inappropriate sex dreams? The dreams where you are shagging your friends and it’s so real that you wake up blushing and have seen such intimate knowledge of your mate’s arsehole, for example, that you are unable to look at them over a pint and a pie then next time you see them. It’s even worse when it’s your friend’s girlfriend that you dream about. You are sucking her toes and watching her face when she comes and for days after you are all guilty, as though you planned those dreams or as though you actually did munch on her juicy big toe and watch her pleasure herself with a door stop. I wonder how much bearing this type of dream has on reality. I think dreams are forbidden thoughts. They open you up (often literally) to new possibilities and thoughts you would never dare entertain in reality. I think its people minds being well smart and making you belief and do things that you couldn’t even comprehend doing in your regular lifetime. Fair enough because if dreams were about real life then I should never want to sleep for fear of boring myself to death. With sleep, you gotta have something to look forward to, some misadventures to have you waking in a stir. One time I had the horniest dream about me and two of my poof friends and woke up in a sweat thinking I was bi and would from now on have to touch dick. Generally I always dream about the people that I would never ever dream of slipping a digit. Then suddenly I find myself in a space suit with a clown wig on fisting the cross-eyed skinny bird from the bus. I love dreams. And more so I especially loved the dream I had two nights ago about my Lil Red and I, new possibilities were definitely opened up and she will be having sweet dreams tonight.
And so I go to try and erase the thought of me mothering anything that’s alive and ponder why life is so cruel as to give me such large hair on such a beautiful day. PS Is it just me or are/were Steps completely fabulous? Actually, don’t answer that. Britney Wannabe
6/05/2003 12:45:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
