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


Wednesday, September 29

I went back to work yesterday and it was every bit as daunting as I thought it would be. I even had to get on public transport (shock horror) because I knew my wiggly legs would not withstand even the 15 minute walk. It's typical that the day I decide to return the land of employment is the same day that the bloody College starts. SO I was crammed onto the bus, sandwiched in between prepubescent teens clutchin a variety of coloured folders to their teeny chests and being jostled from every angle. Thank christ my spinny head drowned out the noise of their incessant girly giggling. I got off the bus in a worse state than I got on, face the colour of milk and my legs shaking with more vigour than a washing machine on high spin. Quite attractive I should think.

The day passed without major event thank god although people's interest in me was soon diminished as they noticed my fabulous new boots which were absolutely more important than my well being. They are fuscia pink afterall. I did hope that by the time I was ready to face the world again that the poncho trend may have peaked and passed us by. Alas, I've seen more big titted wannabes in their stupid attempt at being 'trendy' today than i saw fake Luis Vuitton accesories. It's truly tragic. Someone needs to put a stop to this.

Also in my absense, at least three new bars have sprung up because that's what this town filled with morons needs; yet more places to house the neddy twats who'll glass you just for the sheer buggery of it being Saturday night. Oh joy oh joy! It's so good to be back. Although I imagine I'll be off the social scene for some time to come because alcohol is strictly off the menu. Sadly I cannot socialise past 10pm without a good dose of vodka and/or beer and so in my home I will remain. Wow, the excitement is really killing me.

Anyway, by the time I drag my wilting butt home, eat my meagre portion (yes really), get some girl love and catch up on all your fabulous blogs, it's basically bed time and I've hardly anytime to write this bad boy so this is probably shorter than a shorn bush. Good for you me thinks.

Anyway, I must go as I feel like a mouldy toldy and my eyes are stinging like a lumpy chuff due to the unnecessary harsh lighting in my shop.

Oh and for some reason that bitch halocan has not allowed me to post comments on my own blog so apolgies, I wasn't ignoring all the commentary... Long live a foreign accent and about 6 out of the 8 L Word chicks. Rarr.

Britney Wannabe

9/29/2004 07:12:00 PM

Saturday, September 25

Jodie Foster is so hot. I just watched Panic Room for the first time and had I known just how hot Ms Foster was gonna be, I'd have rented it, fuck it, bought it years ago whenever it came out.

I first became obsessed with the sexy-accented cutie after watching the original Freaky Friday when she was only about 14 or so. I think I was only about 7 so it wasn't so creepy until I surpassed her in age. I would get my parents to record it every Christmas and then watch it until the tape packed in, no longer able to withstand my constant viewings. I didn't understand why I was so fixated with her until it dawned on me that, oh shit, I'm a gay. That was around the time all the initial controversy about her sexuality was flying around and I was convinced that with Jodie as my girlfriend, I would conquer the world of gay and be the new world famous lesbian girlfriend. I finally realised that whether she was gay or nae, there was about as much chance I'd ever meet her, let alone date her fro christ sakes, as there was me turning back to boys. And so I decided to become her instead. Creepy? Yes. I got my hugely long untameable locks cut into some sleek lesbo bob with an extreme side shade and adopted a gruff American slurr. It was really quite tragic and clearly my deluded self looked as much like her as I did Tom Sellick. Actually, with that facial hair, I wasn't so far off being a grade A Tom Sellick lookalike.

And so I haven't really rated much of her movies since I managed to curb my odd obsession but even still, she mostly always looks so damn fine. I imagine she must be pushing on a bit now and she is still making me swoon. Impressive I'd say. Mind you, she'll be hot even when she's blue-rinsed 'cause all she need do is open that sexy mouth of hers and our rolls one of THE hottest accents. Up there with Holly Hunter. Rarr...

And so I go concentrate on Newlyweds because Jessica is so cute without all that make up and hairspray and stupid puffy dresses. Oh yeah, and when she keeps her singing to herself.

Britney Wannabe

9/25/2004 04:50:00 PM

Friday, September 24

I emailed my ex tutor the other day and I casually mentioned that I was still working where I do. He responded not so casually, demanding an explanation as to what the hell I was doing still working in a bloody shop a good year after I graduated with a decent degree. Why are you not applying for publishing jobs in London? And the thing is, he totally has a point. My stop-gap job has turned into a bloody career and it's rather worrying. I suppose I got a little too comfortable in a job serving customers for like £5 an hour... How is that possible? Why have I applied for precisely two jobs since I started working in my 'temporary' job? Is it because I'm lazy? Well there is that also but mainly it's because I know I have to move away in order to do something that I'm vaguely interested in. Of course I've known that the publishing prospects in Aberdeen are non existant since I opted to study the degree so after 4 years I really should have been prepared to just get my ass somewhere else but no, I'm still here, working in a shop but yet still only thinking about applying elsewhere. What's that all about? Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time will know that I hate Aberdeen (correction, I hate the people) more than I hate an unflushable turd and I moan about it accordingly so why oh why am I not doing more to get my sorry ass out of here? I'd love to move to Edinburgh where the people seem more open than the shallow minded Aberdonian bints but the job opportunities in my field are not exactly booming at the moment. My real option is London and I just can't do it. I began my blog there when I was on placement for only 6 weeks and that was more than enough. It scared me tremendously. But then I'd work in New York in a second and I imagine life there is similar to London, ultra fast paced, heaps going on so why is London such an issue? I have no real answer to that, it's just always a place that I've found excellent for a holiday but having to traipse around on that claustraphobic underground every day would kill me. Being that close to strangers with body odour and mental problems is just not my idea of fun, especially on a hot summer's day when you end up with a face full of bushy armpit hair.

The longer I leave getting a publishing job, the harder it is to get one. I regret starting work straight from uni and not thinking about it more thoroughly. I should have done what Sparklecat did and actually get off my low butt and goddam apply for jobs and accept the fact that I must get out. I must leave my family and friends behind and I need to get over the issue I have with that, unless I want to continue punting books to the literate ( and very often illiterate) masses. I will find a fabulous job in publishing, oh yes I will find a fabulous job in publishing. The new, committed to finding an ace job Fee has been born...

And so I go commit myself to the agony that is application forms while trying not to think about my return to work in a mere 4 days...

Today's Likes

MTV's Boiling Point, I wouldn't last a minute
Chocolate soya milk
Bum cracks belonging to a good ass
My Perogative video... writhing around in small pants Britney? SO unlike you ;-)
Dana, the L Word

Today's Dislikes

Being more irritable than a bowel syndrome
Slap her... She's French, Piper what the buggery are you playing at?
Gwenith Turner
Having no suitable clothes for an interview, should I ever get one :-)
Emergency socks... cartoon charcters Fee, just not cool

Britney Wannabe

9/24/2004 01:49:00 PM

Wednesday, September 22

What the crap are these girls up to?

First Sarah Jessica Parker goes GAP (no, sadly not gay and proud) which is only good for the visuals she's added to an otherwise shite shop and for the fact that courtesy of Lil Red we now own one of these larger than life visuals. Very scary when you wake up in the night and forget you have an SJP clad in tweed staring down at you with a face the size of my upper body (yup, massive). So yeah, she sells out to the company famous for breaching every human right going and for having the most falsely cheery staff (ha, my girl excluded of course). And then I hear a rumour that Cynthia Nixon is advertising Oral B, a different kind of oral than she is used to as a sassy Miranda. At least she is no longer removing pubes from her braces. Next in line for classy walking advertisement is Kirstin Davis who is telling the Brish public that Tesco is the way forward. Eh hello? I mean if you really must sell out and advertise tomatoes, baby powder and toilet roll why no opt for the classier and more expensive Sainsburys? I mean if you really must... Can it get any worse that these 3 fabulous girls providing the marketing features for the home of chinos, a toothpaste company and a bloody supermarket? Oh yes it can. And anyone who has turned their TV on in the past three days will know exactly what I'm talking about. To complete the equation, to prove that when 4 fantastic actresses no longer have the security of a high profile TV show about well, sex and well, more sex, Kim Catrall is now the face of Tetley Tea. Yes, it really is true. I mean we all know she was partial to a spot of teabagging in her role as Samantha but this is surely taking the piss? What can the need to advertise Tetley Tea possibly be? Ok, it does make a damn fine cup of tea, especially the drawstring variety but Kim, come on, do you really have that strong an affinity with tea and Britain that you made an a shocking advert wearing a similarly shocking turquoise dress? What's next? Matalan, denture gum, Farmfoods and supermarket brand tea granules? I don't care how much you're getting for it, just think about it, please.

And so I go channel hop in the hope of catching more celebrities in the act of appalling advertisements... Britney and the milk moustache, now that was cute, right?

Today's Likes

Maybe the Moon - Armistead Maupin
Applying for jobs
Sultanas, so much better than raisins
4 hours till the L Word
Navy nails... pink and purple sparkles on top

Today's Dislikes

Rejection letters
Scummy spots
Apples being eaten in public. There is just no need
My fuzzy hair, where oh where art my new straightners?
Too small pyjamas

Britney Wannabe

9/22/2004 05:42:00 PM

Sunday, September 19

I watched my first L Word on Friday night. I invited all my lesbo friends round (ok 1) and we all waited with a sweaty anticipation as the time ticked nearer and nearer. I expected major things, hot lesbos, slight nudity and a decent plot line and boy was I not diappointed with the results. Holy crap, just how many hot girls? And all so femme! Not a sniff of a man's haircut, except on the men. Although eye liner fiend Shane has a swagger that would put Liam Gallagher to shame. And a very odd haircut to boot but still very very hot. The room was filled with twit-twoos for the duration of the programme and by the end of it we were barely able to pick our dangling tongues off the wooden floor, leaving a slimy trail behind when we finally got it together. It was fully fabulous and Wednesday better come round faster than a fart because I absolutely need a Dana fix.

And so I go prepare myself for the premiere of Britney's new video in two hours time. It's all too much for a Britney obsessed lesbo.

Britney Wannabe

9/19/2004 11:33:00 AM

Thursday, September 16

I got my Chinese/English copy of Lost and Delirious this morning. Packing Lil Red off to work I snuggled down to watch it, unplugging phones and shutting down the computer to eliminate any unwanted distractions. Since I read the book a couple of years ago and since I got obsessed with Piper Perabo in Coyote Ugly (I even bought Rocky and Bullwinkle goddamit)and found out she was to be a lesbo in this film, I've just been waiting for the right moment to get it. Finding it on ebay really cheap made this lesbo pretty damn happy. I could barely contain myself. It wasn't pretty.

It started out so well and although Piper's hair was darker than I prefer of her, she was still damn fine. But sadly it went downhill faster than I could shout, 'hot lesbo'. The end was pretty awful and I'm left all disappointed that there was no happy ending. I love a happy ending as much as I love cheese but it just didn't happen. Damn you. If it weren't for the hot Paulie and the great first half hour I'd be putting this film back on ebay and getting my £9 right back. Hey ho.

Oh I also got my fabulous faux Ugg boots. Holy crap they are too cool. However, after having worn them on my short walk to the end of the road I soon discvered that the soles are made, not of rubber or leather or anything remotely hard wearing, but foam. Yes really. I stand on a nail, I stand on a bloody pebble dammit, and it's embedded into my fat foot. What's that all about? Who designs a pair of boots with a foam sole? Gone are any ideas of using these as foot protectors in the snow for Christ sakes. The only place these are fit to be worn is indoors on good quality carpet. They may look like furry wellies but I swear a blade of grass would bury its way through the flimsy sole. Granted they are very comfortable but where will comfort get me when I'm sliding down the street in as good as naked feet. I'd get more foot protection strapping pizza bases to my feet. At least that way I could have a tasty yet gritty snack afterwards. Grr.

Anyway, I now have Sky TV installed and once the three engineers left (does it really take that many Glaswegians to fit a satelite dish? Apparently so) I was free to roam more than 4 channels. I've seen the Call on Me video so many times that when I shut my eyes all I see is long bums in highcut leotards and it's really starting to freak me out.

And so I go watch something that isn't British. River City, NO!

Britney Wannabe

9/16/2004 07:03:00 PM

Tuesday, September 14

I’ve been signed off work for another week and while this should be good for my lack of bank balance I have instead found myself fully addicted to bloody ebay using Lil Red’s card for purchases I probably don’t need.

This obsession has been lying dormant since Lil Red got gusumped on a pair of fabulous jeans in the Summer but now, with far too much time on my hands and a broken video player, it has flourished. So far I’ve sweated over winning and subsequently parted cash for fake fuscia pink Ugg boots, some lesbo book and Lost and Delirious on DVD the Chinese version. I’ve lost a hello kitty passport cover, 4 pairs of jeans and a couple of other things my slow computer would not allow me to own. I’m currently watching too many items to keep track of, like another hello kitty passport holder, a handful of lesbo books, foreign DVDs, phone covers, Abercrombie and Fitch jeans, various pairs of converse and a random shopping bag. Christ it’s so addictive. Not having broadband does decrease my chances of winning against someone who at the same time is furiously bidding and it seems the only items I win are the ones no one else wants enough. It’s still stressful, not knowing if they are there, sitting at their computer, waiting for my bid so they can slip in a higher one before my vintage connection gets the time to respond. Mostly I wanted the boots and the DVD which I got up too early for this morning so I shouldn’t complain. I’m sure all the other stuff I’ve been bidding on and haven’t won hasn’t been as necessary in my rehabilition as fake pink Ugg boots are.

What else is a lesbo to do? I’m fed up with daytime TV, although no one could ever tire of Lorraine Kelly, but those Loose Women (straight, desperate, annoyingly loud middle-aged women) need to go. Especially that Nolans sister. And Chris Evans’ ex wife. Is that all she is famous for? That and having the lankest hair in history maybe.

My video player (yes I really still own one) has now chewed 2 Sex and the City Tapes and my favourite Buffy episode. Having watched all my extensive DVD collection within hours I really have bugger all else to do but purchase items I would not normally buy and think about when I’ll finally be able to leave the house. The life of a lesbo who has eaten bad fish (enough…) is so damn exciting.

And so I go ebay-ward in search of replacement Sex and the City tapes while nibbling the antibiotics I have finally been given. Yum.

Today’s Likes

Deep Dish – flashdance
Someone else painting my nails
2 days till Sky is installed… hello MTV goodbye The Bill
50 First Dates
Winning on ebay!

Today’s Dislikes

Shite radio commentary
Bloody McFly
My curly hair weighing me down
Drunken arseholes
Spending too much time on my own, just dull

Britney Wannabe

9/14/2004 01:27:00 PM

Sunday, September 12

Radha Mitchell

I am sporadically obsessed with this girl. Having exhausted the first 5 seasons of Sex and the City over the past week and a bit, I decided to watch all the videos I bought on a whim and have only watched once or never at all. First on the list was High Art. Having discovered that the oh so hot Catherine from Neighbours (you know the one that went out with the crappy haired Malcolm?) was a lesbian in this film I promptly bought it on its release. I expected big things but it was a bit rotten. Watching it a second time didn't make it any better unfortunately and sent me off to sleep within 30 minutes, meaning I missed the only vaguely naughty bit. Of course that's what the rewind button is for but I just couldn't bear it.

I may watch Love and Other Catastrophes next, see if Radha can redeem herself as a gay part two. Actually I know I wont bother because I remember all to well that it's equally as disappointing. I waited ages to get this one, eventually picking it up second hand and being over annoyed at the shite acting and turdy plot.

Lesbo films really bother me sometimes. I can't think of one that I've watched and thought wow that was fully fabulous, those characters rock my world and are even hot. If these walls could talk 2 was good, well the first two chapters were but a naked floppy asrsed Ellon complete with turkey baster in the third kinda ruined it for me. Even a nude Sharon Stone couldn't help any. Incredibly true adventures is just too dated now though apparently the little butchey is in the L Word. I look forward to Lost and Delirious although while the visuals may be pleasing (Piper Perabo, yes please)I fear the plot will let me down again.

There is just a total lack of lesbos anywhere at the moment. At one point there was a lesbian storyline in almost every soap going (though nothing will ever rival Beth Jordache, my heroine) and now I think even the longest running lesbo in soap (Miss Zoe Tate) is now playing ball. Seriously doubt it. And so I really look forward to the L Word which promises lots of delectable lesbians in believable storylines (I hope anyway) as I felt a little let down with Queer as Folk US season two where the lesbos in order to be happy had to have a threesome. And then as if this wasn't annoying enough, we got to see none of it! Barely a slice of nipple and absolutely no bush shots and instead the scene probably cut to that little scroat Justin getting his prepubescent ass filled. I hate that boy.

And so I go make a lesbo movie of my own while hoping the porridge stays put in my otherwise empty gut for longer than 2 hours.

Today's LIkes

Endless Sex and the City
Call on me Eric Pridz (sp?)
Plentiful puppy hugs
Porridge made with soya milk, surprisingly delish

Today's Dislikes

People giving a 'big shout out' on the radio
Missing Lil Red
Video players on the brink
Unsatisfactory ends of films
Sunday night TV. Mucho depressingness

Britney Wannabe

9/12/2004 07:46:00 PM

Friday, September 10

I’ve been kissing girls now for ten years, very closely to the day. I remember my first kiss with a girl as it were just yesterday. For years I had been wondering what all the fuss about kissing was, feeling nothing but revulsion after smooching with rough teens or acne ridden prepubescent boys. And then I met her. She was a year younger than me and I befriended her after I heard a rumour something had happened with her and another girl although the details were murky. I sat in her living room one day, in my massive tye-dye jacket and told her via a sad note that I liked girls. I had hoped she’d jump on my lap and yell me too and kiss me there and then. She told me it was probably just a phase and that was it. Months later, after my obsession with her had fully burgeoned, the two of us headed to the river with our cheap cider to get drunk. One bottle was more than enough for me and I was drunk within 20 minutes. I don’t know exactly what happened, just that I was speaking a lot of teenage drivel one minute and the next she was kissing me. It was so nothing like kissing all those sweaty, wandering hands boys. I actually felt something that wasn’t disgust. It was fully fabulous. It was 1994 and after the kiss I was so happy that we skipped around holding hands singing bloody Saturday Night by that cheap euro slag Whigfield. Quite shocking for the Courtney Love wannabe standing there kissing girls with her Cypress Hill tshirt on.

I thought she’d be my girlfriend after that but instead she told someone else, made me physically ill and would sometimes get around to kissing me at random times throughout the following 2 years. It was mad. But it opened up this whole new world of girl kissing for me.

I was so sad and so consumed with my new lesbo status that I used to keep a list of all those I’d kissed. I can barely remember any of them anymore, bar the ones I vaguely dated and they are the ones I wish I could forget about. I kissed the girl from school who was 4 years older and a legend for having stalked the PE teacher. I kissed a butch’s femme girlfriend at New Year while she was pissing down on alley. I kissed a woman old enough to be my mum because she had her lip pierced. I kissed a bunch of my friends who were eager to kiss a girl and my mouth was only happy to be this learning vessel. And then there was my male friend’s girlfriend who ‘wouldn’t kick me out of bed for farting’ (oh please) and who thought she would leave him for me. She never did but now has 2 kids and am pleased to say I fathered none of these.

Kissing is a funny thing. I probably fancied about a 10th of the people I have kissed and it’s so personal and weird going around kissing strangers. Should you really be swapping saliva, ulcers, glandular fever, with people you barely know? Is it not kind of gross? The amount of boys I kissed once I was de-squared is more than treble the amount of ladies I’ve locked lips with and that’s pretty disturbing. I blame the New Year street parties where the aim is to cram in as many kisses with strangers as possible in about 5 hours. It doesn’t matter how disgusting the person as long as you leave your options open so you can score more than your friends. The New Year street party I’m sure was responsible for that bout glandular fever that was rife in the early nineties. And let’s not even talk about the cold sores.

There ‘s only one person I’ll be kissing anymore so I guess I need not worry about whether I’ve flossed and whether I’ll be passing on my rotten germs to half the lesbo community. As soon as I kissed Lil Red in that door way (classy as we are) I knew my days of random kissing were well and truly over :-)

Anyway, I’m off to do something about these vile nails which are so ugly of late. I may also attempt to revive my 18 year old straightners which come complete with crimpers my god because my special GHD straightners (the ultimate accessory for any girl with a puff to their hair) have died. It’s tragic and I’m only glad I have not left the house in days because birds will be setting up home in this jumbo do as soon as I do.

Britney Wannabe

9/10/2004 02:39:00 PM

Thursday, September 9

In the hours leading up to my current state last Wednesday evening/early Thursday morning, we decided that we could not possibly come to Ibiza and not go to one of the big showy clubs. We decided on Eden because they were hosting a Ministry of Sound night, with Howard Donald (ex Take That) on the decks. We’ve got all the Annuals, we listen to the appropriate radio stations regularly so we know all the music associated with Ministry so even if the club was shite we’d at least get a dance. Of course we didn’t expect it to be shit. We expected big things. Hot podium dancers, fabulous tunes, cool people appreciating the atmosphere and of course a pleasing vibe. Helped along the way by some red vodka and red bull we headed to the Es Paradis pre-club bar. All three of us took one sip of the 7 Euro vodkas and either nearly vomited, passed out or dribbled it back into the glass. I don’t know what was up with that drink but it left us with a taste of turd in our mouths and the desire to leave as soon as possible. Walking into Eden we were pretty excited. We’d even gotten really cheap tickets and would just be able to afford one drink inside.

Obviously nobody warned us that walking into Eden we’d be stepping back to 1990. Everywhere we turned there were tapered jeans and massive bright white trainers in abundance. I was clearly the oldest girl there by about 2 decades and could only watch on in disbelief at the 10 year old girls attempting a groove in their unfilled bikinis. If the boys were not in their classic tapers then still in their huge trainers they wore ¾ length trousers, badly. It was quite a spectacular sight and I totally felt I was an extra on a Take That video, all ill-fitting clothes and puffy hair.

Speaking of Take That, of course let’s not forget Howard Donald thinking he was well smart posing for photos yet never actually acknowledging the presence of his pubeless admirers. I don’t know what music he was playing exactly but for the entire time we were there we recognised precisely no tunes. It was all a mass of unfamiliar crap and we wondered if he was playing unknown music to make himself look fabulous. Probably. All the neds and the geeks were so twatted that the shite music didn’t phase them. It’s the only time the three of us were all in agreement that we actually wanted some drugs. The only way this would have been bareable would have been if we’d been high on some chemical cocktail I know nothing about.

And don’t even get me started on the lacklustre podium dancers. I’ve never seen such a pathetic effort. They girl near us clearly had new 9” heels on and was familiar in them as she was with dancing. There was absolutely no gyrating, no rhythm and no stamina on these podiums. It was shameful. The teeny tit crew could have done a better job although they would have had no boobies to shoogle.

I don’t know if all the other clubs would have attracted the same ultra youthful clientele but it was so disappointing. All we wanted was a boogie and all we got was a smarmy DJ with too much hair spinning undistinguished tunes to the grateful audience of wasted titless tots. Truly vile.

And so I go attempt to wash this unkempt hair and make myself a bit more presentable for the return of the nurse.

Today’s Likes

Hallucinating Foucault by Patricia Duncker
My new pink, blue and sparkley tongue stud that almost choked me
Lorraine Kelly, This Morning needs you
Flat pepsi, surprisingly good
Other People’s Blogs

Today’s Dislikes

Waiting for Sky installation a week too early :-(
Having been sat around in my pyjamas now for almost a week and smelling accordingly
My staple diet of dry toast and plain crisps
The departure of my nurse to go to work
The stench of ill Fee that’s lingering around the entire house

Britney Wannabe

9/09/2004 01:34:00 PM

Tuesday, September 7

I’m on this new diet. It’s called the Seafood Diet although it differs to the sea food and eat it diet I am so used to. It’s quite easy to master and involves you finding a hotel buffet, selecting the rottenest piece of cold fish and swallowing it down. The more it tastes as you’d imagine boiled shite to taste and the more it leaves an after taste of fried puke in your over eager gob, the better. Wash down with some luke warm water and it should reach your stomach before finding a passage out pretty damn quick. It’s that simple. You’ll find yourself in bed for at least a week, alternating between fevering and freezing and running to the toilet clutching at your backside quicker than you can yell, ‘shart!’ every 4-5 minutes. You’ll be sipping on good fresh water and the infrequent slice of dry toast for the duration of your new diet. You’ll be a stone lighter in 7 days. Guaranteed or you money back.

So that’s my predicament. As of Wednesday night I have been feeling like a mouldy turd and looking not that different to one either. The last 2 days of my holidays were awful. Any hopes of topping up my non existant tan were quashed with that mouthful of leathery cod.

The flight home was a journey from the depths of my stomach. The smell of cooked breakfasts ensured I vomitted much gook on the plane. All I needed was to sleep but my massive gob would fall hideously open and passerbys would launch their unwanted mushrooms into my jaws of death. Either that or the air hostesses (none of whom were hot sadly) would ram their stupid trolleys into my fat overhanging knee, jolting me awake. Again. It was a truly tragic end to my holidays and for the amount of crap I will get from not being back at work I would absolutely rather be there. Mind you, a toss up between severe ring sting and serving customers… now there’s a tough one.

And so I must go nibble on a paracetamol or 6 while trying to keep the pepto down. Damn it tastes so good. Anything would taste good after 4 day old fish bits smothered in Marie Rose sauce as some sort of disguise for the bile nesting beneath it. Yum.

Today’s Likes

The Woman in Beige – V.G Lee. Vaguely amusing
The laptop which is temporarily in my possession
Dubbed Spanish TV. Classic
My nurse ;-)
My lack of appetite. It amazes me
Friends and family who arrive with emergency supplies

Today’s Dislikes

My lips which are dryer than toast
Gary Glitters
Jobbie catchers
Not being able to appreciate the Aberdonian sun. Yes it’s true
Tru Calling being over
Not having Sky for the L Word. Severely doubt it

PS I love Spain. I saw more hot waitresses there than I have seen in my entire life. Everywhere I turned a hot Spanish girl was ready to take my orders. It was almost just too much. Lil Red passed out over one hottie as she muttered hola to her. She slumped back in her chair and her eyeballs rolled back into her head, quite attractive really. She was so almost in there too.

Britney Wannabe

9/07/2004 05:18:00 PM

Wednesday, September 1

¡Hola Fanjitas! And so I am here, sweating, stinking but generally having a fabulous time.

I was more than a bit apprehensive as we were sitting at the gate awaiting our plane as I looked around and noticed that we didn´t have any of the items that looked pretty much customary for everyone else heading Ibiza-ward. We did have a ghetto blaster although it was concealed within our luggage but we definitely did not sport the mullet, nor did we wear ponchos or espadrilles and our hand lugage was in no way contaned within one of those Head bags everyone favoured at school and which come in a variety of colours from pinks to browns. Truly vile.

So despite feeling completely out of place with all these clubbers young and old I just about managed to get through the flight without getting a smack for commenting too loudly on the stupid haircuts and tracksuits worn by so many. Of course I should have expected this going to the land of clubs and shags really.

This feeling wasn´t quashed as we drove transfer to our hotel, stopping in the westend to drop the less fortunate off on the way. The first thing I saw was a total British wank in a mini skirt with his bollocks flapping in the wind. Here we go I thought.

Our hotel appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Three perspiring beasts in one room with no air conditioning and a ponchant for farting was just asking for trouble. Especially when, awoken by an anonymous mucky fart, we realised that the pitter patter of someone´s wind was in fact the bang bang of someone´s hammer. We were making proper eye contact with about 40 Spanish builders who were getting more than an eye-full of one hairy arse and 4 ultra white boobs. Smart. Drama over and we moved room for a fabulous sea view and a balcony which I find it very hard to move from once my clammy ass gets hold of the plastic seats.

I think I´m coping remarkably well in this sweltering heat and have polished off 2 books already. I would absolutely recommed the Ropemaker´s Daughter by the way. I do perhaps look a little odd on the beach, dripping sweat but wearing a tshirt and 3/4 length trousers while everyone else is in very little. I even managed to take myself and my entire wardrobe into the sea (looking a bit too special in my mega inflatable ring) for the first time in years. Felt all kinds of good.

It´s been surprisingly hard to get drunk I find. No amounts of red bull and vodka by the pint seems to do it which is good and fabulous for my spew count but not so good for anything else. Except for that night when we did get totally tanked up (after about 6 hours of drinking I finally got there) and we shook our gay little asses to the likes of Tiffany and Bonnie Tyler and thought of the absent J Bo. We literally had to roll the unsteady Beast home and were careful not to later roll him off the balcony.

I´m watching the meter ticking down and feel I have rabbled enough rot and in my remaining minutes I will try and visit all your blogs for a quick hello. Thank you all for the good holiday wishes... try not to conjure up any imagery of Fee languishing in her own body juices. Please. It´s just not good for the mind. Adios.