o mai lyfe

It’s been a while since I spent some quality time with my little friend bloggy, typing away my woes and venting frustration by bashing on my ancient and constantly malfunctioning keyboard. Heres a general life update on what I’ve been up to over the last couple of weeks. Unfortunately, its mostly involved binge eating, crying myself to sleep and screaming at morons through my phone.



Life ruining – now, this was previously a major factor in my life. The last couple of weeks have been pretty quiet on the life ruining front, by comparison. My parents had a barbeque a couple of weeks ago, which ended in me having 2 riots, punching a man in the eye and accidentally on purpose setting another man on fire before falling asleep at the bottom of the garden. Amy has a superb video where a man asks me who the fuck I think I am, and I respond with ‘oh baby boy, right now I’m your worst fucking nightmare’ while doing gun fingers in his face and my mother physically carries me away from him. My mum now thinks I need to have anger management. Again. Its not my fault I suffer from rage blackouts.


I went to London at the weekend for my best London birds birthday. When me and The Kit Borry get together, its usually absolute madness. Whisky drinking, man terrorising, pantie losing, mother shocking madness. This time, it was relatively tame. The worst thing I did was nestle in a mans beard for a while and convince him that my name was actually Sugar Honey Ice Tea. I woke up each morning, knowing exactly where I was, dignity and all underwear in tact. Best quotes from the weekend include “you know how I sleep with loads of people? Does that mean I’m a slut?” and “seriously, I might sleep with a lot of people, but my cooch is surprisingly tidy!”. Good days.


My own life has been ruined by the finest wankers of them all at Abbey. They have decided to steal £1700 of my hard earned cash (their overdraft tbh) back, leaving me with a paltry £300 overdraft. I cant remember the last time my account was actually in credit…2005 maybe? They can see my account activity, they can clearly see that I have monthly outgoings to pizza places, chicken establishments, liquor stores, shoe shops and cash withdrawls at 7am when I’m desperately trying to get home from whatever tools house I’ve ended up at after a night on the sauce. I have an appointment with my bank manager on Wednesday to discuss my ‘issues’. After we’re done with my cashflow problems, I think I’ll start on my body dismorphia issues (thinking I’m thinner than I actually am and thus purchasing items of clothing made from ‘lamé’) before moving on to my image issues and asking him if he thinks my nail beds are too short to have 1 inch acrylics attached. I think it’ll be a good meeting.



Job hunting – this has been as depressing as ever. At one point this week I was driven to thoughts of suicide and decided I’d shove a 2ft dildo down my throat before choking to death in a pool of my own faeces. I got very low and applied for a job in nandos. I figured, my best friend Chicken will always be there for me, when I need a job, Chicken will come through. Well, Chicken fucked me. Chicken fucked my up my ass. I got a text from nandos saying ‘Hey! Thanks for applying to join our team! Unfortunately you didn’t make the cut this time, but keep checking back. We’re always on the lookout for Grillerz in the mist!’. Welllllll how about you suck on it, you pretend-to-be-a-bit-classy-but-actually-are-well-shitter-than-chicken-cottage-and-arent-even-really-a-real-‘restaurant’ chicken joint. Getting rejected by nandos = all time low.


However, I got a call today about a job I applied for a few weeks ago. The lady called and asked me to come in tomorrow to fill in a few extra forms for security clearance so we could get me started. I’m not entirely sure if this means I actually have a job or not, but whatever, we’ll see tomorrow. She said on the phone that she would email me details of where to go and a list of some ‘things’ that I had to bring with me. I figured it’d be the regular passport, proof of national insurance, that sort of shit. But no. I got the email and almost shit myself. This is on some next level mission impossible shit. Actual extract from the email…..


Please bring with you the following
- Passport
- Full driving license, including paper document
- Long birth certificate
- National Insurance card and P60
- Consecutive bank statements from the last 6 months
- Bank account details
- 3 utility bills
- Details of BOTH your parents places and dates of birth


You should also be prepared to discuss details of people you have known in the last 5 years, including boy/girlfriends and give full details of every property you have lived in over the last 5 years.



Erm….do you want a shit sample too bruv? The worst thing is, I’ve gone through my emails and have no clue what this job is. The woman on the phone mentioned something about government. I cant work for the fucking government! I really don’t think rockin up to work in last nights make up, reeking of rum and seminal fluid, wearing my mums suit jacket over my raving dress will really cut it there. But fuck it, I might have a job or something!



Men – this too has been rather quiet. I got a text last night from a boy who I’ve been having sporadic good-cause-its-a-bit-bad humping with over the last 2 years to say he’s getting married to the girl he told me he had split up with. Fiiiine, go settle down in your shitty flat that smells of mushrooms with your Oprah lookin girlfriend, see if I even care.
Oh, I so totally care.

My good friend Will is moving into his own flat round the corner from me, so we’ve decided to basically live like we’re married from now on. I’m learning to bake pies and he’s learning to become a high earner, we’re gonna go get a pug puppy in a couple of weeks and treat it like our child, before I inevitably realise that having a baby really is the only way to save myself and let him knock me up. Itll be a beautiful thing.



Yeap, that’s pretty much all. Just your usual fortnight of setting men on fire, shitting your pants about going through security tests for a job you don’t remember applying for, owing the bank nearly 2 grand and being bitter about your hump buddys impending marriage.


Oh and some people think I’m some kind spoiled little hussy whos living off her momma and livin the life of a low class hooker with no repercussions. If only my breds, if only. I’m still hustlin cash moneys by making pretty pictures for this mental man who asked me for a bronze body cast of myself (I politely declined that commission), doing some costume making work for a lady I know at the Lyric Theatre and helpin my moms & pops by doing their paperwork and replying to all the emails that they cant bother their asses to deal with.

My main man Diddy posted a P-Twit a few days ago with a quote from Abe Lincoln - "Things may come to those who wait..but only the THINGS LEFT by those who HUSTLE .” OH DIDDY, U SO DEEP, I LOVE YA.