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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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You know you're in the wrong place (Hetero Hell?) when you're sat in between a woman over the age of 65 sporting condom earings and a Jackie Stallone body double. And when the DJ thinks he's doing you a favour by bombarding you with Shania bloody Twain and Grease Megamixes it's time to get your coat. But not because you've pulled. It could only be The Office Party. It would appear the effects of cheap blue alcopops had the desired effect on Miss Fee however and I did in fact miss all the 'exciting' goings on that you'd expect from an Office shindig... the vomiting, the boyfriend stealing and the fighting. Probably because I myself was the one on the dancefloor lying in a pool of puke. Actually, I managed to keep the spew at bay, until it forced its wicked way to the front of my throat early on Saturday morning in the form of flem and bile and severe stomach contractions. Hot stuff eh?
I'm still getting flashbacks of side stepping on the dance floor like a self conscious pre pubescent teenager. How cool am I? About as cool as ring sting. Anyway, this week has been mostly about trying to shake the mega massive hangover from Friday night and living off 40p, cup a soup and Lil Red love. It's not all bad. And so I go 'ring and reserve' my fabulous pink mini i-pod. No more skipping CDs as I power my ass to work! How fully fabulous? I'm thinking very. Today's Likes Britney's 'Do something'. Yeah baby. Mylo - Destroy rock n roll, kicking my bubble butt. Refraining from high-kicking at gatherings where my fellow high-kickers are not present. Yay I have willpower. Walking to work in the morning, strangely satisfying. My hair behaving itself, about time. Today's Dislikes The obscene pink Luis Vuitton interior of Britney's jeep. Doubt it. No party this weekend due to Lil Red working a full 9 days in a row. Double doubt it. The amount of butches in this month's Diva magazine, hello girls with hair exist too. Double doubt it with chins. Numb Arse syndrome, get off it fatso. Not blogging enough, sort it out Feely Up Fee. Britney Wannabe 
1/28/2005 01:50:00 PM The transition from Book Shop Geek to Office Nerd has been as smooth as a freshly waxed butt cheek. Seriously, this whole getting to sit on my ass for a good proportion of the day is just fabulous. I type, I sit, therefore i am good. I can even wheel myself to the photocopier to avoid getting up altogether. Was there ever a job more ideal for the Fee? While I was concerned that my ass may blend into the chair one day, I have found I am less hungry from a total lack of movement and therefore am not doubling in size as originally feared. Hurrah! Also, no wretched customers. And furthermore, no vile, heavy handed, petty management team. Oh and there is also the added bonus of being able to see outside, instead of being stuck in the back of a shop (probably because my customer service skills were so heinus) and not seeing daylight for hours at a time. It doesn't matter that my view is of the less than pleasing to the eye Castlegate area where I'm regularly treated to a spectacle of drunkards and druggies going head to head over who gets the best bench. It's really rather exciting. About as exciting a trip to the Smear clinic. Like I'd even know. So so Scandalous.
Anyway, as it's lunchtime I really do need to get off my sweaty behind and get some air so I'm ready to face the afternoon, all three hours of it. Ah life as an Office Nerd is so so good. Today's Likes Snapping out of crap sleeping phase. I have eyes again. Drew Barrymore, twit twoo. Neon plasters, all the rage in Fee world My Lil Red driving, hot hot hot New O.C coming very soon despite a lack of proper hotties Today's Dislikes My broken phone, clumsy does it again Desperate Housewives being on too late for The Fee, don't even dare tell me how good it is... The 400 builders that have taken up residence across from our flat My lost Britney CD... if you stole it at new year, now is the time to admit it... The way oatcakes stick to your teeth for hours Britney Wannabe
1/18/2005 01:34:00 PM I wish that I had a switch on the back of my head, concealed under my nest of 8-tone hair, that I could flick on and off whenever I wanted to actually sleep. I go through these well annoying sleeping phases where I just can't from the hours between about 5.30 and 7.30am. No big deal for most people, you would just wake up at 5.30am and accept that more sleep is just not possible but for Miss 14 Hours of Sleep Required a Night 2005 it truly does suck harder than a lesbo trying cunnilingus for the first time. Of course when I say 14 I mean at least 9. I cannot function like a normal human being on less than 9 hours sleep. Actually I cannot function like a normal human being with more than 9 but at least with a full quota of Fee sleep I don't look like a toad who has had a heavy night on the cider. I probably spend most of my 9 hours sleep stressing about not sleeping and trying to tell my over active imagination to stop chatting. I mean is it really necessary to think about that time when I was five I stood on a white jobbie or about how I should spread my oatcakes prior to going to work. I think not. I try all the sleeping tricks, lavender everywhere, kalms, no caffeine, lettuce, herbal tea, blah blah blah but for a couple of weeks at a time no matter how hard I try (I think that's the problem) once I get up for psychological pee numero 2 I cannot sleep. Poor Lil Red is about demented with my large body flailing around and the over exagertated huffing and puffing that she is privy to at silly o clock in the morning. Grrr said the usually so placid Lil Red.
And so I go trip over my mega bags which are as sightly as a decayed turd. Today's Likes Lil Red's (and mine!) new car, the lesbos are mobile at last The red and black party we went to last Saturday Walnuts, totally underappreciated Lesbo buddies London Baby Today's Dislikes The Gay Bar on Saturday night, yawn My sheer sleepiness Soft oatcakes, tastes like bad porridge My baggy glasses, time for a new pair Shaky hands Britney Wannabe
1/14/2005 01:45:00 PM I have well and truly recovered from New Year, almost. I just got the ingrained smell of pee out of my right cheek only a few hours ago. I had to sandpaper my skin because no matter how much scrubbing and bleaching I did on my now flacid cheek, the stench of man pee just would just not leave.
I had a fully fabulous time, of course winning every high kick competition going and dancing like a popper fuelled fanny (without the 8 month old liquid gold however) but as soon as 3 o clock hit, Hyper Fee became Very Ill Vomitting Tar Fee. I passed out in our toilet for about two hours and that is when I awoke to the stink of piddle on my face. Did a man pee over me while I was vomitting? It was definlety man pee, don't ask how I know, I just do. Whatever happened, the smell of Jack Daniels tinged urine has only just left me, though if I breath sharply in through my nostrils I swear I still get a whiff. I have to say that despite my severe debilitating puking which left me unable to move or eat for days (of course being that I am the Queen of Exaggeration you'll understand that this means one day), this was without a doubt my best new year. I got to kiss my girl at new year (see 2002's new year entry to undertand my issue) and all but one of my best friends were there to share in the festivities and vodka and twatty dancing. The hangover was well and truly worth it, though I would like to thank the skanky lesbos (you so know who you are) for distributing their finest dykey germs my way because now I'm so close to having the flu it hurts. And so I go slurp on asparagus soap like an over eager lesbo with a runny nose. Nice. Britney Wannabe
1/06/2005 01:51:00 PM
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Adventures of Charmin |
