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


My 100 Things

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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Thursday, July 31

Things I have done since I last wrote: (in no particular order)

Got hungover and ragey on wine
Picked up 7 dog poos, some squishy some perfectly solid
Played strip poker with Lil Red and Harry Potter cards while drinking beer and cider
Gaily laughed along as Beautiful Boy demonstrated lighting his farts
Over ate on cheese and smoothies
Bit my once beautiful nails to stumps
Didn’t tell my ma and pa about the visit from the Police
Forgot to remove my shiny disco ball from its temporary position in the garden
Got humped twice by my dog
Watched half of Basketball Diaries and all of Too Wong Foo
Didn’t get paid
Washed my hair, realising it had been too long since I last did so
Cleaned sausage fat from my grill. Cheers carnivores
Watched bad lesbo porn and cringed, and the rest
Listened to The Matrix and my J Bo special 80s tape on repeat
Discovered I had real BO
Thought about leaving the house
Scrubbed puke out of my sleeping bag. Thanks Babs.
Had two nice days with Lil Red
Got depressed cos I want a house of my own
Read some of Disco Bloodbath and laughed out loud repeatedly
Pissed about 6 people off including my parents who have been home a half hour
Had a dream about threesomes with Lil Red, myself and Beautiful Boy
Was subsequently sick
Packed up my paddling pool for yet another year
Ate 6 veggie burgers and complained about my large gut
Woke up to the best cuddles
Worried about the heat in NY and contemplated short trousers for a brief second
Wondered why people go to the circus
Adorned massive glasses and looked like a prick
Got too involved in the Angry Anderson song: Suddenly.
Remembered the Scott and Charlene days and wished I was a mechanic
Got jealous cos Lil Red got a J Bo lap dance
Removed the worm that slipped into my flip flops and in between my hairy toes
Realised that I really really need a life

And so I go to try and find that life that I so desperately require. I may be sometime.

Listening to: Angry Anderson: Suddenly. Yes still.

Britney Wannabe

7/31/2003 02:02:00 PM

Tuesday, July 29

Mind the GAP

I want to talk about GAP. That’s GAP clothing, not gap in tooth, gap in gaping or gap between the door and the platform. My issue is not with child labour, I leave that to Amnesty International. However, my issue is equally moralistic. Really. I am concerned about the fact that GAP are almost solely responsible for the widespread distribution and wear of chinos.

Chinos: trousers made of a durable cotton twill cloth.

Fuck. These Grandad trousers even warrant a dictionary entry. GAP chinos are always colourless, tapered and half mast yet a huge proportion of the male population are cutting around in these bad boys which are nearly always teamed with deck shoes with massive bows or brown tightly pulled boots which are about as cool as ring sting. For the top half, when wearing chinos, you will find men in a classic baseball tee, tucked in polo shirt or highly buttoned shirt, long or short sleeved, usually badly patterned. I just don’t get it. Is there a need for such a huge fashion faux pas that is seemingly performed worldwide? Should GAP be allowed to contribute to the demise of the half decently dressed man, just when straight men were beginning to evolve into the gay man’s way of dressing so well? Should child poverty be the only thing that Amnesty International campaign about with placards outside GAP? The answer to both these questions is a resounding NO. Please for the good of mankind the world over will you ditch this maybe once was cool in 1956 design of trousers? Or if you really must insist on packing your stores full of them, could you re-design them? How about a black pair with a little bootcut that flatters your shape a little? How about a trouser length that actually fits over your brown boot? How about a little less of the brown boot? Just please, no more beige and khaki chinos because I can’t take it no more. Men’s asses should be encased in tapered trousers as often as women’s should. Never. People would do well to remember that.

And so I go to do that thing I really shouldn’t. You should try it sometime. You just may like it.

Oh and here’s a random thought for this day of pure annoyance. You manage to offend a ‘friend’ when you are drunk. Another friend manages to offend the same person minutes later. The doubly offended person then decides to stop talking altogether to the original offender yet not the second offender, using claims of ‘drunk’ in the second offenders defence, despite the fact that the offended person sent the original offender a message the following morning ackowleging how drunk the original offender was but yet will not talk to the original offender again. The offended person then goes on to claim to others how mad he/she is at the second offender but yet will not fall out with the second offender and STILL wont talk to the original offender. So the second offender is permitted to make drunken insults but the original offender is thrown aside like a piece of the offended person’s shite. A definite case of double standards and sadly, burnt bridges. Confused? Confuddled? Yeah, me too.

Today’s Likes

Fucked if I know of any.

Today’s Dislikes

Everything about this whole issue
The hypocrisy of some people
Flat arses
The fuckin builders next door
Pseudo relationships

Britney Wannabe

7/29/2003 03:07:00 PM

Monday, July 28

The Saturday party was swell. There was boobs flailing everywhere, the now customary piley-ons, orgies on the parents bed, mildly unamusing tantrums (and no, not just by me) and everything else that I seem to have temporarily blocked out. No doubt the flashbacks of what was probably split leaps, split beavers and split relationships will come flooding back to haunt me as I sip smoothies and try to unfold my eye lids. I do remember that someone called the police. That’s a first in our party history which is surprising. I think I know who did it. Although it could have been a combined effort considering you could hear us all the way to Glasgow. Be warned: If you have recently fallen out with someone and they have left in a whirlwind of farts and bad moods, never joke that it was they who called them. Big mistake times two. Anyway, I’m sure I cried into the bosom of a police woman who was as hot as the colourless turd that someone left me to find in the morning but hell, what’s a drunken tear or two between friends?? I think after that, after we were ordered to move our party indoors, I think plants were on fire and gobbings were spat around in reckless abandon but fuck that, let’s so not go there. Such a teenager. As is the usual, the J Bo and the Beautiful Boy were up last although far too fortunately the Westlife CD was well hidden. Of course that did not stop a J Bo ransacking the parent’s CD collection for gems such as Bryan Ferry and other far too unmentionables. And as is also the norm, all fags were smoked and all drinks drunk while the rightful owners slumbered and drooled through the drunkness. Ah I love a party. I also love the fact that Babs was clearly far drunker than anyone else, being manhandled into my bed and despite all warnings of ‘puke and I will wear your foreskin as surgical glove and give you a rectal probe’, he subsequently vomited his lager, vodka and cider concoction in clumps around my room. I have yet to find the remaining pile, the smell of which tarnished my dreams last night when I dreamt I was floating in a sea of naked Babs and acrid bile. One thing to say to you Babs, ‘funcy a fuck?’

And so it was over and I was faced with four stunningly puffy eyed individuals the following morning where the discussion over fat pork sausages was once again, oblong turds, squishy poops and unsafe farts. Everytime.

Oh well today, in the blurry haze of a two day hangover where my hair looks mega backcombed and I can still smell the BBQ remnants in my nostrils, I now must scrape the bits of feet that people seem to have engrained into everything, from the lino, to the chairs to my mothers shoes. Cheers for that.

Have a good day. I know me, all dry skinned, shaky hands and swollen eyes certainly will not.

Today’s Likes

Two weeks till NY. Sex and in the city.
Photo phones… See stunningly unclear photo under blog description
Wayne Wonder
Clark Shoes adverts
My Lil Red, so pretty

Today’s Dislikes

The morning after the night before
The tomato ketchup lingering in my hair which seems to be unshiftable
My scabby lips which are disintegrating by the second
People’s inability to take a fuckin’ joke.
Neighbours with attitude

Britney Wannabe

7/28/2003 12:27:00 PM

Friday, July 25

friday five

1. If your life were a movie, what would the title be?
Life of a Britney Geek: The Lesbo Years

2. What songs would be on the soundtrack?

Britney: Stronger - for those 'dumped' times
Beyonce: Crazy in Love - for those not so 'dumped' times
Flashdance - for teh getting up in the morning scenes
Alcazar: crying at the discoteque - for all those drunken traumas
Mirwais: Naive song - cos I never see what's happening in front of me
Garbage: I think I'm paranoid
Dana International: Diva - The early gay club days
Haddaway: What is love - the lovestruck teenage years spent spinning round lonely pining for The Bitch at the rink
Enrique: escape - shucks
Scooter: that song, for The Bo
Dido: take my hand - for when I skip off into the sunset at the end

3. Would it be a live-action film or animated? Why?

It would be live action because I don't think you could appreciate the full extent of our stupidity in cartoon form. Traumas need live people, not animated figures. All the Dirty Dancing lifts gone wrong, all the piggy back racing, all the tears and all the rest of the shit that goes with us. Trust me, you need live action for that. Oh and also for all the lesbo action. yeah right.

4. Casting: who would play you, members of your family, friends, etc?
well of course I would be Drew Barrymore and I would so be dating Alyson Hannigan (purr, my Lil Red). The Queen of Fun would be played by Samantha Mumba (don't ask) and she would date the real life Jordan (sorry Gyspey Frills Anon...) who would then get dumped for Kate Winslot (there you go Gypsy...). My poofs would be played by beautiful people, perhaps Orlando Bloom, Johnny Depp, Leonardo and maybe David Boraneaz. J Bo would be played by Angelina Jolie and would go gay for the film (hello it's MY life) and do Eliza Dusku while watched by me and Alyson. And Bobby, well I guess I would have you as Nan King. No kitty butlers allowed thank you.

5. Describe the movie preview/trailer.

You'd get a snap shot of a party with us all there, thrity years on. We'd all be smooching and confessing undying love for each other. There would be a bouncy castle that we'd probably all eventually have an orgy on and there would be a tantrum or five, a big bust up and then we'd be back to the smooching. A typical Friday night from 5pm to 6pm. This would be the climax of my life. Sad huh? You'd have to then see how I got there. It would be pretty unpleasant. The hair styles would be vile, the clothing vomitous and my self-set trends monstrously disgusting. You'd close your eyes for most of it, afraid of what hair accessories or how much tye dye you may see. Yeah, this movie would go straight to TV I'm sure. Although, maybe I'd throw in a lesbo sex scene to entice anybody to actually watch it. Not with Jordan though. And she is only hired as a favour to The Queen and because she is cheaper than Bargain Books.

Britney Wannabe

7/25/2003 04:18:00 PM

Wednesday, July 23

You know it’s love when…

your girl comes to stay when your folks are out of town and she is still there at the end of the time despite having witnessed you in roles that she certainly does not lie back and fantasize over.

She sees me take on this oddly, often vile, role of domesticity and witnesses some grotesque scenes she could not have thought possible of The Fee and yet, 6 days on she is still here, with the cuddles, the kisses and most of all, the adoration of someone who will allow no dog turd to spoil what we have.

I mean, I love our romantic quad daily dog walks. Just the two of us strolling hand in hand through the park with the dogs skipping around our feet, with the sun streaming through the trees, making our little gay faces glowy. But just as we are just getting lost within this picturesque, from-a-book scene we are faced with my beautiful fluffy white dog taking a huge stool right in front of us, straining and grunting with all his little might to force out the mother of all turds. I could lean and kiss her so she doesn’t see this so the moment will not be spoiled but alas, there is no hiding the fact I then have to go hunt the poop, which is always about 600 leaves down, and retrieve it with a probably holey plastic bag and grapple at the monster poop/leave/mud concoction with two hands to even get it into the cheap carrier bag and then march off to the poop bin which is smellier-than-an-alcohol-shite infested toilet. Yeah, there really is no hiding that. So dignified. But yet she still loves me. Even when there is diarrhoea, after a hard day of eating from discarded cartons and inedible plants and I could sieve it quite easily pre pick-up, she still cares. Even when my polite dog steps into the middle of the road for his after dinner poop which I must subsequently scrape from the cobbles whilst a queue of waiting cars blast their horns and wave fat fists at me, she still loves me. Has her love been blinded by too much dog poop?

Anyway, I’m having a fabulous time, going on pooh patrol, eating enough smoothies give myself soft poo for eternity and reading endlessly. And of course getting to spend some quality (for me at least) time with my girl without the interruptions that are usually so prevalent for us is quite wonderful. And what’s more, it’s less than 3 weeks till I fly high and head NY. Life is still fabulous though very much poop tainted.

Today’s Likes

Solid poops which are easily handled
Poops done in the discretion on the woods
The invisible poop
Poos which do not break the bag
The odourless shite

Today’s Dislikes

Mushy poops which require more than one holey bag
The wet poos that slip through the bag
Twig filled poops that rip the bag
Poops underfoot when flip flops are worn
Jobbies caught in your turn up

And so today is definitely a day for whatever this may have in store

Britney Wannabe

7/23/2003 04:27:00 PM

Monday, July 21

Graduation was excellent. Take away the near flooding of my panty liner and my massive red sweaty face and my probably humped back, things went better and faster than I could have expected. My moment of glory lasted about 6 seconds so I don’t even think I had time to catch my size tens on my too-long pinstripes. The rest of the afternoon was all about excess food and photos and family and generally being centre of attention and of course having tantrums about almost everything. The rest of the evening was most definitely all about getting wasted getting bought drinks and generally being as loud and obnoxious as the rest of the group. And multiple shots and £1 drinks ensured that Luscious L when as good as unconscious on the middle of the road got piled ontop of by 6 major bodies. I think mine at the end called a definite sudden halt to the game however and Luscious L was left with a purple imprint of the cobbled street on his beautiful face. Bless. You’d think that or the random biting that was going on apparently everywhere would have been enough pain for all to handle but clearly a special J Bo was feeling a tad on the masochistic side and insisted on inflicting THE most massive wedgey ever on her own ass and now split in two chuff. So here we were in a club where we were the only people, requesting our standard ‘show tunes’ (Tiffany, Chesney and the like), running around withougt the coffee table to trip over and a Bo was cutting around with her arms in the legs of her thong and using the entire pair of pants like a pair of ‘rock on tommy’ braces. The DJ called a halt to the music in tribute to the now fully mutilated fanny of J Bo. It was sad. I’m sure it was a damn good chuff and I’m sure it did not deserve to be treated in such a beastly fashion. At least she now has two clits and an extra large ass crack which is always a good look. Anyway, after too much lesbo snogging at the not so gay bar we left with me wondering how the fuck I was supposed to get up only hours later to my job interiew for a job I actually really wanted. Regardless of my lack of sleep and the fact that I looked like a rubbery turd, I got a job. The woman called me the same day and hit me with flattery such as ‘oh you were a yes from the word go’, ‘there was never any doubt that you were getting a job here’. Woo Hoo. Feely up Fee is employable after all and maybe my ruffian hungover look swung it in my direction. No that was my ability to charm a pretty lady. Yeah right. Anyway, no longer will I don my red t shirt so large I need not wear pants and instead I will now work for a bigger bookshop where hopefully they will let me be in charge of all things queer. Life is good. Life is friggin hot actually. I am sat here in my garden banging away only on my lap top and nothing more exciting I’m afraid and listening to my fat sizzling in the stupid heat while drinking homemade smoothies. Bliss.

And so I go to consider the shorts. Doubt it. It feels ground-breaking that I am even sitting here in ¾ length trousers with my large ankles a bit too visibly on show. Ick. Sweat drippin on keyboard is not a good look for anyone. Damn you sun. Get inside where you belong Miss Fee.

Today’s Likes

The Spell – Alan Hollinghurst
New York being only 3 weeks away
Garden Parties minus the beasts
Having a job!

Today’s Dislikes

Having to do work today when I so can’t be arsed
Smoothie hangover. Not good for the ass all that fruit.
My curly hair. Damn the humidity.
Over heating laptops
Fuck it, no more, am actually happy.

Britney Wannabe

7/21/2003 02:58:00 PM

Tuesday, July 15

Well bugger my asshole. I have spent two days of pure hell trying to find a friggin outfit for graduation which happens to be a mere 23 hours away. After trawling around the minky shops of Aberdeen and experiencing a mutitude of changing rooms in which I sweated and hyperventilated and convulsed, I finally found a pair of gay pinstripes which didn't emphasise the whole of the moon too extremely or cut so tight around my gut that my mulitiple bellies were gagging for air. Having vile arms and having been cajoled very much against my will by my mother into the wearing the colour of virginity, finding a top to go with my lesbo legs would be another major trauma however. Everything I tried either stopped under my tits or carried on below my knees and certainly made me look like an overstuffed hippo. It was sick. However, I still have a few hours remaining today to find the most ill fitting shirt I can and roll with it. Roll with it. I'm quite sure I will be rolling with it when I will without a doubt trip over my stupidly long queer trousers as I mount the stage tomorrow. That wont be all I am mounting I'm quite quite sure. Anyway, be safe in the knowledge that this time tomorrow I will be looking like a fud in a flappy gown and hat which I imagine will be too small for this jumbo head and mammoth hair.

Did you have a good weekend? Mine's involved heavy panting, heavy pants, heavy petting and heavy pets.

See you when I am a fully graduated prick as opposed to a fully undergraduated prick.

And if you can be arsed, recommend me a good book. Something funny would be swell.

Today's Likes

The return of Bunnie
The fact I have a job interview
Boys in kilts
Girls in tiny kilts
My girl in anything

Today's Dislikes

The fact I have a job interview for a job I wont get
Her, yes her across from me that is snifflin' and munchin on cough sweets so fuckin loudly that despite the booming 'house' in my ears I can still hear her.
The damn faulty zipper on my trousers and wearing lightly coloured pants. Not a good look
The sweat brought on my too tight shirts
Tapered fuckin jeans. How many times do I need to tell you people?

Oh and I just discovered a picture of me from that friends reunited site. Buggered if I know why but have a look if you want. It's very blurry (shite scanner resolution perhaps? or the reluctance to put the faces of us inbreeds up clearly for the whole world to see?) I am in the third row, five from the left as you look at the picture. I am a blurry featureless mass. Sick.

See far-too long haired Fee as she pretty much still looks today.

Britney Wannabe

7/15/2003 12:04:00 PM

Friday, July 11

I will watch a scary movie at the cinema. Something else I have never done and hoped I never would.

Okay, I have completed one thing on my list. Last night I was dragged by my stupidly wavy hair to see Wrong Turn, my first cinema scary movie. I was very reluctant to see it in such a public atmosphere but the only thing that made it bearable was this:

Well almost bearable. I walked into the cinema and the film had begun and all I could see was blood and all I could hear was screaming and I turned round and walked out again. My friends passed this scene I had just witnessed off as a trailer and took hold of my arms and pulled me in. I selected a seat so near the front that in order to see the screen I had to get a severe bout of neck strain but I had to ensure I was close enough to the door should this prove too much for my delicate little mind. I thought with Eliza Dushku looking hotter than I have ever seen her look that I would be able to watch in a horny daze but sadly with the neck slitting and the body butchering my eyes remained clasped shut almost throughout. It was comforting to be able to snuggle into my girl as we both averted our eyes to the beastlyness. I did provide much entertainment to the poofs who were more shocked at my inability to eat all the popcorn than they were at my reluctance to open my balled up eyes. I felt their wide eyes on me and heard their sniggering with my every wince but I was fucking shittin myself. Just as well I had on that maxi pad I tell you. I left to go to the toilet at the moment the wingey bitch got decapitated so that was fine, except I was then subjected to a detailed account of this by the thoroughly amused gay lords. I think it only lasted about an hour but it felt like a full on eternity in hell. Clammy paws and white faced I left the cinema to the cackles of 'that was so not scary Fee, you have to see another'. Doubt it. That was enough to nearly bring on anal leakage so there is absolutely no way on this earth (hot girl and snuggles or not) I will watch another. I now recognise that I am missing absolutely nothing by not watching these films. I don't care about the emotions it instills in me, these are emotions I could quite well do without but I feel good about having forced myself to do this because I didn't think I could. Neither did anyone else. But fuck, the dreams I had last night reminded me of why I need not pollute my mind with this kind of freak show.

Nevermind, I'm sure going upside down on a roller coaster could not feel this bad? Look out Coney Island here comes blubber.

Today's Likes

Meeting people you have not seen in ages
Eliza Dushku (hello who doesn't like this lil minx)
Hugs from my girl
Two-hour lunches (isn;t that what publishing is all about?)
Frida nights

Today's Dislikes

Bitten down nails due to film stress
My forehead looking larger than my tv monitor today
'no space for new messages'
The fact I have again succeeded in doing no work
Graduation day looming

Britney Wannabe

7/11/2003 03:34:00 PM

Wednesday, July 9

I hate mobile phones. I mean sure I love that mine has a sexy flip and is shiny and silver and that I can text faster than I speak but I think they are the most anti-social inventions since shell suits. For instance, on any night when my group of friends hang out, at each moment there is always at least one third of the group chatting to someone else on their mobile or furiously having a text argument or fuck. It's really annoying. I know I aint exempt from being the annoyance who is continually texting but after Saturday night I have decided to give it up when out socially. I'd be embroiled in an indepth conversation with someone when the beep beep went and was then left talking to myself and a bowed head which would every so often nod or 'mmm yeah' in agreement when really they had no clue what the hell I was on about. So i'd turn to someone else and they'd be doing exactly the same. What's the point in going out in a group if you are more than happy to sit there alone but for the company of your phone? But whats more annoying is when there will be a two second pause in a conversation and someone will pick up their phone and start chatting to someone else and we are forced to listen to their big voice giving a made up account of some event we were also at. It's so bloody rude. Not only that but texting I'm sure must be the biggest cause of depression. You get drunk, text someone you like, they don't respond or they respond in what you consider to be an unacceptable fashion and that's you rolling round on the floor, kicking your legs hard against your ass and moaning that you are fat and ugly and deserve no one. Sadly for me, I don't need the alcohol or the phone to reduce me to this state. Text messages are for bull shit. They give your this added confidence to say things you would never dream of saying over the phone. 'Hey how you today, PS I love you' 'Hi, how u doin, PS I hate you'. If you can't say something to someone's face then it is not worth saying. Text messages get everyone in trouble. I mean how many times have you wound up sending the wrong message to the wrong person? Or how many times have you pretended it was intended for someone else in order to provoke a reaction? And how many times have you sneaked a look at someone else's messages and really wish you had never? I know I have and got the biggest fuckin shock of my life (Cheers for that, did I ever tell you how much I hate you both for all that? Yeah that's right I did. How's the wall?) and I know many have read mine and gotten spiteful because there was just too many kisses in that message and someone got called a foxy american chick within the lines. So from now on, I will keep my phone in the confines of my bag which is so damn large that once something goes in there is more chance of it appearing in Britney's pocket than there is of it making its way out of my bag again. And if you all must take your varying sized phones with you can you please not text 27 times for every drink and please don't feel the need to call everyone you have ever met while we are chatting turd. Or maybe I will just learn to make my conversation more scintilating. Damn that will be hard.

Today's Likes

My new sticker camera
The sun when it doesn't make me sweat like a crab in a nun's fanny
Feeling better today than I have in too long
Charlies Angels: full throtle. Totty town
Liquid nail foil. Posh term for nail varnish

Today's Dislikes

How old people twirl their keys around their fingers for the duration of their bus journey
Smelly hair
People breathing too loudly too closely to my neck
The wind that follows eating pea soup
Having no motivation to do work

Britney Wannabe

7/09/2003 12:18:00 PM

Friday, July 4

I hate removing nail varnish with a sweaty sock. I hate eating plain rice and potatoes. I hate buying trousers so cheap there is only one belt loop. I hate how wearing a belt with one belt loop trousers causes the belt to drip in your piss without you realising till it's too late. I hate having to drink diet coke in the pub. I hate eating three apples a day. I hate having to watch every shite television programme, every day. I hate a lot of things right now but more than anything I hate how being so penniless I am forced to do all the things I hate. I also hate the fact that someone stole my organic peppermint teabags from this stupid place and I can't even afford to replace them. Of course the reason I am a total mink is much more exciting than being able to do all the things I like for 5 weeks. New York Baby. I figured I could live off the bare essentials which I can barely afford for 5 weeks in some vain effort to be able to afford to go the The City, baby. This is also supposed to aid me in my power diet. I don't really care about being a chubber in The City because is it not true that over half of the American population is clinically obese and I will therefore blend in as well as a crab in a whore's fanny? But my real concern is that on our way home we are stopping in Iceland and I am being dragged pretty much kicking and screaming to The Blue Lagoon. A lake with purifying qualities which is aimed to detox us after our antics in The City. Sounds swell but hello, me in a bather?? I don't even want you to hold that thought. I feel physcially repulsed just thinking about it. I haven't been in water in public since I was an equally overweight prepubescent teen and I really don't want to repeat those torture years of 'throw fatty in the water and watch her sink'. And having to strip down to unflattering lycra in front of three of your closest friends... I would never be able to look at them ever again. And I'm sure they would never look at me in my flattering clothes in the same way ever again, knowingly what lurks beneath. Maybe I'll get really drunk on the journey to the lake and be declared unfit to swim. Or maybe I'll just jump in fully clothed and watch in horror as the water jumps out and every bather is left in a dry hole in the ground wondering if the whale will ever find its rightful way back to the sea. Now I remember why at 24 this is my first holiday with my friends. Damn you water and heat.

Anyway, as I go contemplate if I can get away with only dipping my slender wrists in the water I will tell you that I just about had another near accident with the belt. Will buy skinners in future to ensure that no belt is required as my ass will keep them up of its own accord.

Today's Likes

My pink and camouflage shopper, gonna get it mounted on wheels and drag it around when I am old[er]
Home Alone 2
Fingers (not just for nail varnish you know)
My beautifully co-ordinated outfit

Today's Dislikes

Teabag thieves
Having to wait another 5 weeks 4 days til NYC
Being completely neurotic about everything
French manicured toes nails. Doubt it
Plaitable bushes