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Some chick thinks she's a gangsta yo. Fo Realz

Aye, those were good days!!¬† I dunno what happened. I just don’t have any interesting stories anymore. Well, that’s a lie. I have lots of hilarious stories to tell, but have been banned from telling them. Too much poo involved. No one likes poo. No one. Well, no one normal. A few freaks. But still, I’ve already spoken too much about poo, and I’ve only written less than a hundred words. Mare! You don’t really wanna hear about my poo eh? No.

MOVING ON!!

So what the fuck have I been doing?! Mate, I really don’t know. I’ve been working, planning and clicking refresh on Facebook. I might get repetitive strain injury. I hope I don’t. I’ve been watching lots of Glee, lots of Desperate Housewives and lots of Archer. I got hilairously drunk last week and was passed out in bed by 8.30pm. Then from 4am-2pm, it was vom central. Blerrrgh. Vom vom vom, poo poo poo. Mind when I was a lady? Naah.

My modelling is starting to take off somewhat. I’ve got a couple of paid shoots coming up. Paid!! Meaning that I am finally being paid to be a babe. Hurrah!! All I need now is to be paid to be cool and my life dream is complete. Does anyone want to pay me to be cool? I’ll do a good job!!

Well, tonight I have the night off work. How am I spending my Satuday night? Watching Britain’s Got Talent, cooking lots of curries/stir fries, bidding on eBay and drinking tea. By myself.

See, told you I’m good at being cool.

 

 

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Readers, I have finally broken my man down. I have convinced him to move in with me. Yippee!! The McSlappersons are going to be sharing a flat. Yaaaaaaay!!!

He is moving in in June. We’ve said it’s initially just for summer, because there’s not many shifts going. But you know me. Once his clothes have been unpacked, there is no fucking chance I’m letting him move back out! None whatsoever. When he’s unpacked, he’s here for life. LIFE!

Yaaaaay!! Next step: engagement!!

Today, I had a taste of stardom, a feel for what life in the limelight is like. I had my very first day working as an extra. And fuck me, I am WIRED on coffee!! Seriously, if you want to be an extra, you gotta have some coffee. BOOM!!

I am typing a million miles an hour. The day started off at 10.30am and I sat around and made small talk with the other extras. We are all bmfl now, obvz. Nothing happens for about an hour, just me, sitting chatting to these randoms. Some are good, some are lame as. I’m talking megalame. Anyway, I get whisked off to hair and wardrobe and made to look even more beautiful than normal. I know, I didn’t know it was possible either.Then we get a free lunch- lamb shank and mashed¬† potato, yes please. I drink 3 more cups of coffee and we head off to location.

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Was spent dancing naked around a studio with a papier mache pig’s head on my head. Whoever said modelling was glamourous has obviously never modelled before.

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I’m far too much like Monica Gellar. Far too much. Lately, I’ve noticed myself becoming more and more pernickity and anal over insignificant things. I’ve become obsessed with doing things in a particular order, and god help anyone who tries to do it differently.

For instance, when I’m cooking, everything has to be chopping in a certain way. All the vegetables have to be diced, but in a particular manner. The onions always have to be chopped last too, after the tomatoes. Don’t ever think of chopping the onions first, or into rings. I will chop your fingers off.

Washing the dishes has to be done in a set order too. First of all, the sink has to be full of hot soapy water. Then you pile in all the cutlery and wash that. After all the cutlery is washed and in the rack-and I do mean ALL the cutlery- then comes the time to put glasses and cups in the sink and wash them. Then comes the chopping board, plates, bowls, and finally pots and pans. I mean, it makes perfect sense. I just can’t understand why anyone would wash plates first, or just chuck things in and wash them in no particular order. That shit is whack.

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Over the past month, I’ve had about 20 different career choices. I’ve wanted to be a model, an actress, a wedding planner, work my way up the licensing trade, a full time mother, working in advertising, event organisation etc etc. I have no clue what the fuck I am going to do with my life.

But, I have a feeling everything will work out ok. I’m making progress in several of those choices- modelling, licensing trade, marketing- so one of them has got to work out, right? I mean, I can’t possibly fail at all three of them…can I?!

Stop thinking about the future J-dawg. Concentrate on today. Who knows what path your professional life will go down- you don’t, that’s for sure. The future is shit scary. I have no idea what to expect. What does it hold for me? Will I be a high powered marketing director? Will I own my own chain of tequila bars- Tequila Mockingbird? Will I be the next Kate Moss? Perhaps I’ll be planning the next Royal Wedding.

I literally have no idea what the fuck I am going to do with my life. The world is my oyster. Go grab it!

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I haven’t blogged much this week, purely because I’ve been having a bit of shitter. I was really close to jacking everything in- the job, the man, all my friends, everything- and leaving Glasgow. I didn’t really feel like blogging about that.

I’m pleased to say that I have now gotten over this drama, and am feeling much better. I don’t feel like jacking ANYTHING in. Hurrah.

There was one person last week that made everything better. Throughout all the shite, all the lows, the confusing stuff I went thru, there was always someone there to lift my spirits, and they brought the entire bad week to an almighty high on Sunday. That’s right, Mother Dear I am talking to you:

Thanks for bringing a smile to my face amongst all the poop. Love you long time, Thai Bride xxxx

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