Wrist, List, Pissed. (contains sex - look away children!)

2005-12-30, 9:55 p.m.
Hey guys. Ive done something real bad to my wrist and it hurts LIKE FUCK to type.

Ive been meaning to update for a couple of days now but just havent been able to face the clicky clicky yowch thing that goes on every time I try to write anything. If Ive left you any kind of comment over the last week or so and it didn�t have any punctuation or anything in it, or was really short and pathetically unfunny, then I apologise. I would blame the crappy keyboard and even crappier orbital, no OPTICAL, mouse in the studio as I hate using them as Ive mentioned before but, no, its just me being a big ole baby.

Ive enjoyed reading all about your holidays, Christmassy and otherwise and wish you all that you wish for yourselves in the New Year. It seems a bit late to do a "What I Did Over the Christmas Holidays" entry so I�ll condense it into a sort of list if you like. You can get the general sense of Christmas in The Palace of Many Sins, without having to wade through pages of festive stuff that just makes you pissed off cos its NOT CHRISTMAS ANY MORE, STOOPID.

Sprained my ankle Christmas Eve � fell over outside the Palace whilst sober.
Opened many and varied presents from the lovely BF � quite a few of which were made of latex, and quite a few werent. I have lovely new cocktail dresses and a belt and some earrings and some bathy type stuff and some work-knickers (plain white, comfortable�but with mother of pearl sequins!) and loads of other stuff too. AND, get this, get THIS�.The Perspex Porn Shoes AND The Spanking Dress. Dear readers, I am truly blessed.
The UFO was jolly gratefully received and has had several test flights with varying degrees of successfulness � only one crash landing which would have been all the more spectacular had it not suddenly veered AWAY from the cherry cheesecake.
Flaming June came for Christmas Day luncheon and I cooked Like. A. Goddess. Caviar canapes, marinated this, seared that, specially flown in from Madagascar the other, blah blah blah.
Went to the Runts in the evening � Flaming June went off to BFs sis � and scoffed ourselves silly yet again. Mater and Pater had spent the day on their own and had gone to the beach with a pack of sandwiches and some mince pies and had a lovely walk � it was sunny and not too windy so they didn�t freeze their nads off too much.
Jooj and Treacle came back from Shagnasty�s on Boxing Day and the Runts came over for the day � did the full Jolly British Turkey Christmassy thing (although we had to have the turkey for dinner rather than at lunchtime as it hadnt thawed out!). The wee girlies loved ALL their presents. BF had bought Treacle a craft set that does all sorts of things to homemade greetings cards. Wrapped separately was a pack of coloured paper (for making the cards, obviously). She opened the paper first, as she didn�t know the other thing was for her too and without missing a beat she said "Oh, BF! Thank you for my lovely paper! Its REALLY nice, I LOVE drawing and colouring, it�s the PERFECT present!" and gave him a massive kiss and cuddle. I have lovely kids. We�ve been broke for too long tho. Anyone else�s kids out there get ecstatic over a pack of fucking paper? It breaks my heart.
And then back to work.

Last night the girls were at Shagnasty�s and me and the lovely BF partied. Lots.
I wore my new "outfit". I felt somewhat self-conscious to start with and spent a while clearing my head of negative thoughts�like "*snort* what the fucking hell do you think you look like you sad old middle aged scrubber" and "mutton dressed as lamb? More like �a fucking great pile of boiled tripe dressed as a prostitute�".

Im told I looked "fucking amazing". I was told this even before we�d got wrecked. I was told this so many times I am starting to believe it. We had astonishing sex. Over and over. I was told I looked "fucking amazing last night" quite a lot this morning too. Maybe I did.

What makes me feel a bit sad is that, despite craving it, I wasn�t having this kind of sex ever in my life until I met BF. I feel sad that when I had a gorgeous, unblemished, bendy body, other men were making a piss-poor show of having sex with it. The sleek, roaring racing car was being driven by spotty wankers with provisional licenses or old fellas with tweed caps on who never got out of second gear. Now Ayrton Senna�s having to do Monaco in a P Reg Mondeo. The poor bastard. (yes yes, I know the "crash and burn thing" but Ayrton was the first racing driver I thought of. No, I don�t want you to list a few for me thanks, Im just making a POINT. OK?).

When I was about 22 I was offered a part in a porn film after a producer had seen me baring my flesh in a stage show (The Devils). I don�t want to be in a porn film. I didn�t then. (and the money wasn�t up to much). But I had the perfect body for porn. Now I don�t. I hate being old. Its not fair. Youth is most definitely wasted on the young. The little bastards.

Did I mention my wrist hurts.

Boo Hoo.

Later
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