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


Friday, February 18

You know how on GMTV(Morning TV show for you non Brits or you non early risers) they do this thing where Keith Chegwin goes to someone’s house very early in the morning, following a correct answer to a stupidly easy question the previous day, and hands over £10,000? Well, I was proper convinced that Cheggars was heading my way today.

I entered the competition for the first time yesterday and after hearing the clues about where he was headed I knew my luck was in. The clues gave away the fact that he was in Aberdeen (poor man) and I looked out my window and saw a massive Hummer, really not the kind of vehicle you see cruising down our narrow, cobbled street at 7.15 am. So convinced was I that I was about to become 10 grand better off that I showered in record quick time and was dressed and ready (albeit very swollen eyed) by 7.20 am, for Keith’s big entrance. I perched on the edge of the sofa more precariously than if it were awash with venomous beasts so I could dash to answer the buzzer at top lesbo speed. I even donned my rubber gloves at one point so the house was clean on the surface for my big TV moment (something I’ve never even thought about before, as Lil Red will testify to). I even took my ultra gay picture off the wall so as not to shame any family members. When I saw the shot of where he was and saw old Cheggars running toward his final destination, I was still sure that he was nearby (even though the area he was in was as familiar to me as a meat injection). Alas, when the very eldery old lady opened her door to her ten grand I held my heavy head in my hands and cursed that bloody man who I swear drove down my street in order to lure me in a very false sense of security. So to cut a very long, over exaggerated story, I am not ten grand richer and still had to stuff my hands down the edge of the sofa in order to scrape together enough money for lunch.

It’s probably just as well really (yeah right, man I am mad) because how is it possible to look at a man when you’ve seen his teeny todger, all shrivelled and playing peekaboo? Answers from all male lovers on a postcard to me please. The reason I’ve seen his chipalata is because of that naked game show thing he did. What was that all about? Naked people doing physical activities? All that bending and stretching is bad enough when performed by fully clothed people never mind by those with floppy breasts and flapping bollocks. Ick, no thanks.

And so I go prepare for a weekend of snow and sledging down sand dunes. Hopefully we’ll be better prepared for it this time around and four dodgily dressed lesbos will not get caught in a blizzard. And Lil Red will not wear green welly boots complete with heel. Please baby.