I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Despite my obvious fear of the heat I am actually looking forward to going. I'm envisioning a large parosol, plenty of sangria, more books than I can carry and a bottle of factor 78. If I can tear myself away from the hotel room and the free food it will be fully fabulous. Jusy myself, my girl and The Beast and NO traumas... Not to mention no tan as I'm sure I'll come back a mere one shade darker than milk. Either that or I will be that lovely colour of period red that I seem to be so fond of turning in any heat stronger than 11oC. Isn't fair skin such a blessing??
And so I go pack the few items of clothes that are actually suitable for wearing on the beach (for goodness sake, put the mad made fibres back in the drawer) while dreaming of leaving a good few of my bellies behind... before they get the chance to be exposed (however accidently) to the public eye as they loll on sun loungers and cavort on the beach.
So I will see you in a week or so, providing I haven't been accidently harpooned or used as an anchor for that wayward fishing boat.
8/24/2004 06:21:00 PM
Miss Fee's Quiz
The lure of the olympics is just too strong and so I must leave this entry short. Forget volleyball... who has seen the shotput?? Wow! Some crazy looking ladies hurling their hefty frames around on surprisingly dainty feet... The only sport my bellies and I could ever dream of entering. Is facial hair a prerequisite though?
Even the thought of sport brings me out in a full body sweat which has nothing to do with the lycra catsuit I'm currently sitting around in... Let's hope I don't need the bathroom anytime soon as I don't think I talcumpowdered sufficiently...
8/22/2004 05:36:00 PM
Is there such a thing? Am totally thinking not.
I am so fed up of people over plucking and stupidly shaping their eyebrows. I'm blessed with the type of eyebrows that have never needed plucked or waxed and have retained a good shape throughout my life. However, having witnessed monobrows that blend into hairlines over the years I do appreciate that two brows are better than one and that most girls seem to need to stab vicously above their eyelids until poof... the perfect eyebrows. However, there really is no excuse for removing so much of the hair that you could be albino and nor is it acceptable to shape the brows into high arches, tiny stumps or what looks like the initials of your name. Is there? Eye brows can make or break your face, they are such an important featrure and it is therefore vital that you get it right no? How can I take someone seriously who has drawn on black eyebrows under their bleach blonde hair? And how can I not laugh at you when you see more ridge than brow? What about when your idea of symetery is so far up your ass that you've got one eyebrow stretching across your forehead and the other crawling heavenward?
I've always had a fear of freshly plucked eyebrows... you know the way the flame and swell up and looked like a chicken's ass? I don't know where my repulsion stemed from but it makes me physcially sick to have to speak to someone with freshly hairless eyebrows... especially if they are so severely done. You can have nicely shaped brows without mutilating yourself in the process you know. So just sort it out. I'm having none of it. I'll sand them off and redraw them with purple nail varnish if I have to. It would look a damn sight better than some of the sights I'm sick of seeing.
Anyway, my week, apart from being full of vile eyebrows, has been fab for three days and rubbish for two days. Obviously I was off for the fabulous part and working for the rubbish part. The majority of the boxes are unpacked, my fingers are fully nail-less and our flat is so damn pretty. So life is actually rather swell.
As I have precisely 12 minutes to write this I really must be off. And so I go get physically prised off the keyboard by the next minker waiting in line to access the porn for free.
8/18/2004 07:49:00 PM
It's taken far more effort than we expected. We've had to paint every room in the house to escape the non colour which is neither white nor cream and we've had to cover burnt patches in the lino and varnish the 2 tone floorboards in order to make the place habitable. Or to our standards at least. It's actually very exciting. It will be mine and my girl's first home together with no interference from anyone this time around. It's fully fabulous being in love. Even if it does mean a ridiculously early morning tomorrow for the big move. How can 2 lesbos accumulate so much crap? I have 4 suitcases of clothes despite the fact I wear about 2 different outfits (sad really). How the hell did that happen I'd like to know? I'd really better get to bed now if I want to be up by 9 in the morning.
Tomorrow night we have our leaving party. We say goodbye to our lesbo wrestling arena, the birthplace of bungee-jean, the place we discovered poppers and we also say good bye to our fat footed neighbour whose feet are heavier than my 4 bellies combined and who NEVER sleeps. Oh I'll miss you so much, doing your washing at midnight, hoovering your wooden floors at 7am and arguing with every person you have ever crossed paths with. Bu bye you total fruit loop it really has not been swell.
And so I go get my nose, my hands, my whole body into the cupboards before all the food gets thrown out before it's prime...
Wish me and my hefty body luck with the move... all those stairs... all those boxes... Call in the removal men... I'll need them to remove my sweaty body from the property once the boxes have gone...
Comments on my blog... thank you :-)
Owen Meany, a fabulous book
Women's Volleyball in the Olympic Games... Rubbing my hands in anticipation
2 weeks til I go on holiday
Still not having an internet connection more than once a week
Swimming costumes, flattering nobody since 1923
Shopping for holiday clothes
My now repulsive nails
Bastard 2-day hangovers. There's just no need
8/13/2004 07:31:00 PM
13 Going on 30 film last night. It was cool enough. Jennifer Garner is really hot, even if she did spend a good part of the film walking around like she had a fist in her butt. It got me thinking about a couple of things. Yes really. I wondered what I was doing when I was 13 and if I'd been projected forward 17 years at that age what exactly would have happened? First off, what the hell was I doing at age 13? I was cutting around secondary school in those weird not shorts/not a skirt things with bright white slouch socks, folded down with precision, and wondering who the hell my friends were. While in my spare time I was going to dancing lessons too early to try and catch my teacher in the sauna and pretending to chase the boys (who were quite rightfully terrified of both my aggression and my massive fringe). I think if I had thought about what I would be doing at 30 when I was 13 I would have said I wanted to be a thin firefighter who could pick and choose her own clothes. I'd probably have imagined myself happy ever after with the said dancing teacher who would of course have given me private lessons... That was about the depth (and still is really) of my thought. Now when I think about being 30 I want to regurgitate my entire stomach contents. So what do I think now? It's a mere 5 years away and I fear I will still be working for like 5 quid an hour, still be massively in debt with no possibility of ever paying it off and still be acting like an immature lebso, banging away sporadically on this keyboard spouting rubbish and offending people without realising it. Wow. I really am as ambitious as I am gay huh? As much as I'd like to be in a fabulous job earning fabulous money I just don't think I'm cut out for it. I just don't think I'll ever have the maturity required to be a professional anything. Unless I could be a professional nothing. I don't even have the maturity to sit in the cinema and not laugh at my similarly young mentalitied friends when they fake fart. The fact is that I feel more of a kid just now than I did when I was an actual child. Maybe I spent too much time as a kid trying to be grown up. Maybe I just spent too much time trying to grow into my extraordinarily large fringe.
Maybe there is a lesson here. Maybe I need to stop finding humour in the stupid things, like farts, turds, burps and anything genital related. Maybe I need to surround myself with boring grown up friends who will not keep me so young. I'm thinking actually I've had more fun in the past few years than I ever have and just because I'm an immature twat, that shouldn't mean I'm not capable of getting a job that actually stretches me mentally should it???
Anyway, I've still got 4.5 years of being twenty something and maybe I will surprise myself with more than an accidental fart. But we'll see.
And so I go to prepare my banner for the Big Brother finale. If that Pubeless Wonder Jason isn't next to be evicted the TV set will feel my wrath. Nadia for the position of God.
Our new home, it will be fabulous
Checking up on who reads my blog :-) Miss Fee is always watching
My purple sparkley nails
Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benator. Oh yes
My hot girl
Off white walls. It's just dirt
Exposed ugly toes
The smell of sweaty tights
My hair in this humidity. A lot of time wasted on straightening
Boggies on lips. Get a hankie.
8/06/2004 04:05:00 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>