Beautiful angels, I am full of love and light and post-shag happiness this rather sunny Tuesday. I had the most glorious relaxing weekend with my beloved, camping in Dorset and am slowly but surely working my way through this working week, before my annual family outing to Henley Regatta on Friday and then my two weeks in Croatia kicking off on Saturday. Utter. Bliss. Plus I feel amazing today because I’m wearing one of those dresses that you buy cheap for an occasion and then never wear, re-try on 2 years later and look fucking fit in. My tits are propped up to my chin and I’m feeling right as rain.
It seems like an amazing weekend was had by all, with Pride kicking off in many American states and Glastonbury in full swing. If you need to be told, then you’re definitely on the wrong page, but I just wanted to give a shout out to anyone encased in the LGBTQ+ community. You are all incredible, brave, wonderful and deserving of all the love and respect, multiple times over. Now, Glastonbury. I have never been thrilled by the idea of a festival, in all honesty. The whole knee-deep in mud, 3-day disco vag, trying your hardest to avoid human waste vibe doesn’t fill me with hope. HOWEVER, I know that Lizzo took to the West Holts Stage on Saturday and absolutely fucking killed it. And if anyone is going to get me to wear the same pair of knickers and not condition my hair for half a week, it’s motherfucking Lizzo. Plus, I’ve seen that Carrie Underwood also performed. And there will never be a song to make me scream sing quite like Before He Cheats. Anyway, I’m trying desperately to live my life with no regrets but if I miss the real Queen Liz perform live one more time I’m going to seriously consider re-thinking my life mantras.
Have I yet mentioned that I’m going on holiday on Saturday? Seeing how I want to spend my life, in a bikini eating pasta, I am more than a little bit buzzing. It’s been forever and a day since I had two weeks off work (for pleasure) and the thought of being on the sea with some of my most favourite beings sends me into a trance. Plus, it’s a lot less difficult to deal with the heat when at any given time you can slip gracefully (or not-at-all-so, in my case) into the Adriatic or simply peel some layers of clothing from your now-moist body. Which, apparently, is not the done thing in the office. Who’d have thought. I am rather sad, however, that out of those two weeks abroad, I’ll seldom get to catch up on Love Island and judging by last night’s antics and what is likely going to happen tonight, I am pretty fucking devvers.
I swear to God, men are the WORST. And I’ve been saying it for 25 years! I knew I was onto something. Is it sooOOooOo hard to just not snog the face off someone else before you break up with your girlfriend or half-girlfriend or whoever you’ve been sharing a bed with for nearly a month? My heart truly aches a little bit every time I see Amy, Amber or Molly-Mae avoiding partaking in anything that might upset or piss of their man friends. Those girls are too good for those boys, and I’m gagging for one of them to deliver some hard and fast home truths once they hear about the villa’s antics. Anyway, rant over. I really ought to learn how not to get so involved in the lives of strangers on a reality TV show.
Have a tremendous rest of your week/weekend. Enjoy the balmy evenings while you can and think of me sweating my tits off at Henley Regatta in a hat as large as Jupiter on Friday. I’m probably (probably) going to be out of action for the few weeks that I’m away, but I leave with a promise to fill you in on any and all details on my return. Some inspirational words for while I’m gone – wear that fucking bikini like you’re doing it a favour. If you wanna eat the pizza and drink the wine, eat the pizza and drink the wine. Toxic relationships don’t deserve your time or energy and unless his jizz is diamond encrusted, he’s replaceable. Over and out, for now anyway. Love you.