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London Aberdeen and the Brit Awards…. So I went to Aberdeen, did the gig came back to the tiny bed and breakfast that had more rules than Barlinnie High Security prison. I stayed awake as I had a 6am flight to go to London to take part in the Trisha Goddard Chat show on UK national TV in UK. The show was a one off special about child abuse, I was on to talk about my book and my own past abuse as they wanted someone who was a ‘survivor’ on the show and that was my role. I was so very tired when I got on the plane at 6am. I sat beside a chatty woman and I wanted to kill her “So what do you think of hardcore fisting porn?” I asked her and she never spoke the rest of the journey. That’s works every time. I was so tired when I got off, but my hair was perfect as I had spent the whole night fussing with it when I had nothing else to do in Aberdeen. My driver was there to take me straight to the TV studios, I got there, was welcomed in, got the make up girl in to literally paste me in her entire collection of face colourings, then got changed into the nice outfit I picked and then almost fell asleep. I was getting worried as the TV Company had not received my book so I called my publisher and they biked one over, it came just in time for the filming. The show went up and there was a few women on talking about their sexual abuse experiences, it was heart wrenching. I then got my moment to talk about my life, my book and Trisha was awesome. What a lovely woman. So then I left the show and was whisked off to the amazing flat in Westminster ( I will never stop bigging up these apartments and will be in Dumase’s debt forever for her constant help, she is the sassiest chick in London). I promptly fell asleep at the flat and woke up to about fourteen fucking annoying phone calls, but one was amazing I have been invited to the VIP party of the BRIT awards, these are the UK’s premier Music Awards….am so excited. Maybe 50 cent will be there and ask me to marry him or at the very least casual sex? |
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No Escaping The Nightmares…. stayed up late last night as I couldn’t sleep properly after having napped at 6pm "ish, so finally I went to bed at 4am. I had a multiple horrific type nightmare. I got out of bed in the dark, I didn’t know where I was, I banged my knee off the bedstead and tried hard to familiarise myself with the apartment. I rarely stay in the same one twice, so it’s hard to recall where light switches and the layout of the place. So I managed to get into the hall and my brain was all fuggy, I was scared and confused as I desperately slid my hands on the walls that surrounded me looking for light switches. Finally my hand felt something metal on the wall and I clicked it on, the light scorched my eyes, my brain was telling me to go back into the bedroom to find my phone and check what time it was as all the heavy drapes were pulled and I couldn’t tell from the sky outside what time of day or night I was in. My heart was pounding from the fear of the dream…nightmare dream to be honest. The marble floor in the bathroom was warm and I remembered the under floor heating, but I was sweating and my hands felt sticky, I looked at my outstretched palms and my eyes could hardly take in what I was seeing, they were covered in blood…I turned to run out of the bathroom but the floor slipped beneath me and there standing in the hall was a man…I didn’t know who he was, I tried to scream but he leapt in one movement and grabbed my throat and held me down. I saw his face as he got closer, I could see bits of flesh hanging off and his blood dripped into my eyes and made me blind. I tried to catch my breath and he took one fist and punched me hard in the chest and I felt my lungs empty in one swift gasp. I lay there and let the darkness swallow me and as my eyes cleared I saw a wee girl sitting in the shower, her nightdress was familiar, though I don’t know how, she was wet and shivering and begging for me to help her, but I couldn’t, I did try to get up but the man put his feet on my neck and reached over and grabbed the wee girl out of the shower. As she was pulled past me, she stared at me crying yet keeping eye contact and I recognised her…it was me when I was small. I know her and I felt her fear as she passed me. I tried to shout at the man as he pulled her body across the bathroom floor, she reached out her hand to me to pull her back but my arms wouldn’t move and the man just stood her up and dragged her nightdress over her head, she stood there naked and I saw her skinny ribs on her back, she was covered in bruises and then…she just walked with him into the bedroom and I lay there shouting but nothing came out. I lay there and could hear her screaming as he panted. Then I woke up. One day this will stop and I will save her, maybe not today. |
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I didn’t sleep well last night, because my husband woke me up at 3am…because he thought that would be a good idea. Despite me telling him I never slept well in London, despite me explaining how I hadn’t had a decent night’s kip in days, he thought a 3am booty call was cool. We still aren’t talking; I am scared to look at him lest I stab him! Lovely! So I stayed up till 6am calling New Zealand and checking details of the tour and stuff. I did go back to bed and fell into a scary sleep that fucked me up a bit and at 3pm I had a dental appointment, the final treatment to get my new veneers fitted. I lay there tired and grumpy as the poor man tiled my mouth for me. The job was done, so I went into the reception to pay. My credit card bounced! Maybe the dentist would have to take the veneers back off as I hadn’t paid. I started to call the credit card company and then my phone started ringing, I had BBC radio, BBC TV and gigs all being booked right there in the dental receptionist desk, she started taking notes for me. I still hadn’t paid the fee, there seems to be a problem with my card and a payment that didn’t go through, so I whipped out another card and paid my bill. I have no idea what has happened with my card, but I am sure it will be fine. I am booked for 60 acts in 60 minutes next week in Manchester, it’s a cool BBC show and I am chuffed to be on it. I just need to organise my life and get everything done and sometimes it gets all on top pf me and I lie awake panicking that I have forgot something. My poor daughter Ashley had been vomiting all night and throwing up all day, I feel so bad for her, she has some food poisoning. There is nothing worse watching your own child being that sick, I would do anything to take it off her and let her be safe and well. I am sure she will be fine. I will post a final picture of my teeth as soon as my laptop lets me download them. Husband will never wake me up again; I will actually kill him if he does! |
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I have been so bloody busy, I have had not one minute to blog, but finally am here in Leeds. I am staying at the K-Space apartments as I detest hotels now; I have had my fill of them. Serviced apartments are the way to go, this wee solo flat is cool. As usual I am staying around a building site (everywhere I go in England its being developed!) but the flat is nice…really helpful guy called Steven met us and greeted us…makes a difference. The new teeth are nice, I am still not used to having a full straight smile of white teeth and I can’t stop staring at them! Now I have noticed my wrinkles, double chin and may have to get plastic surgery to make me look pretty! I am JOKING! I read with horror Madonna’s article in Elle magazine, she says “I don’t like being this skinny, but all the men I have dated including my husband Guy like me very thin, so I starve myself to look how he desires me, I prefer a bit of meat on me, but Guy hates it” Well, there we are, well done Madonna…I am sure even your kabala people will love that you starve yourself in case you are not loved. Surely if her religion is that strong to her soul, she would not give a flying fuck what a mere mortal thought of her body and she would have the religious security in herself to be who she wants to be…. I can just imagine loads of young women reading that article and reinforcing this current trend we have for young females risking their own well being to stay dangerously thin. You only have to look at Victoria Beckham to see how far this trend has entrenched itself in the 21st century, the irony is, despite Victoria starving herself, her husband fucks other woman. There is a lesson there for us all ladies! Eat cake "get laid. |
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I am sorry it has been a few days since my last blog, the laptop went a bit slow and it needed a clean out. The shows are going great, I love being up there on stage doing my stuff. Have been really inspired with comedy again after doing the workshops with kids lately, they are so honest and funny. Every week, I take 14 teenagers on a comedy workshop; I want them to gain confidence and fun from comedy. Some of those kids are so fucking funny when they get up, I see them just throwing themselves into it full tilt and I love it. The improve exercises get them into the groove and they really do show a great interest in performing; some of the one liners they come out with are hysterical. So I am still in Leeds, I went shopping yesterday for a decent outfit to wear to the Brit Awards night. Now those who know me know that I am small, quite chubby (less now since I have stopped eating rubbish) but my boobs are huge for a small person like me 36DD. So I stand in the designer store looking at fabrics colours and then am approached by the skinniest, nubile gay-est man in the world “Can I help you?” He asked. So I explained that I needed an outfit and he escorted me over to a range of clothing that would never have even fitted around my fucking wrist…I am not joking…these clothes were for some eleven year old girl who looked like a seven year old boy…to be precise. I looked the shop assistant in the eye and then pointed to my two huge Scottish globes and said “Do you honestly know what I am pointing at? These are tits, and they are huge, there is nothing in that range that accommodates my tits, do you have clothes for women here or is everything for women who date men who like their women to look like children? Did Gary Glitter design these clothes? Did Michael Jackson help him out?” The lovely wee gay dude burst out laughing and we literally held onto each other pissing ourselves giggling, he then started to try to stretch some of the tiny clothes across my boobs; this went on until people started commenting and we stopped. I never got an outfit, but I have a new screaming queen gay pal. I have nothing to wear, but who cares, its not as if I dress up better and Kanye West will want me, I already have a man who wants me, ok he is not famous or a black rap artist, but he does go to the chemist to get me tampax…cant see 50 cent doing that can you? |