The Slut spa

I arrived back from LA LA land to Heathrow.

It was a hot day.

I was wearing a long strippy tight blue and white dress that the manhore had brought me from bloomingdales. High sude wedges and a denam biker jacket.

He was waiting in his 4 by 4 at ‘arrivals’ in a shirt and blazer and belly that hungover his belt.

We kisses on both cheeks. We drove through Henley upon thames. Its beautiful. Quaint. Oldie worldly.

The spa was beautiful.

We sat in the gardens and drank pink champagne, and ate fish

The conversation was refreshingly honest.

We  laughed about the Hollywood manhore. And he talked about his daughter and wife. Apparently they are separated but still live in the same knightbridge house. Im not convinced. He laughed at the fact that the manhore had left me $300 dollars and told me to send him a picture of the $300 cheque ripped up with ‘ don’t come to London to visit. You cant afford it’

I told him what the manhore had said on the last night that we lay n bed together

Manhore ; are you in love with me yet? ( annoying upward inflection in voice)

Me; no

Pause

Me; why…..are u in love with me?

Manhore; I’m in love with the idea of being in love with you ( annoying upward inflection in voice)

 

I mean what the fuck??!!! He said this in all seriousness. Not taking the piss. Not trying to be cheeky or funny. Who says that??!!

Joe Pesci has a good sense of hour. For an Albanian ; )

I got tipsy.

We went for a walk in the gardens after a few hours. He went for a snog. I managed to fob him off with a side mouth peck.  I asked him what he wanted to exchange for this spa day with a room attached as had previously said he couldn’t stay if he booked a room for me. He said he wanted nothing. I knew he was lying. I was too tipsy to care. And something about him wasn’t threatening.

He told me I could go and get what ever I wanted in the spa. I was like road runner. He was left in the gardens with dust and grass in his face.

I had a facial, massage and my nails done.

 

He text saying he had gone for a lye down in the room he had booked for me.

I floated reluctantly up to the 3^rd floor where the room was.  Room 369. I shuddered at the thought of the 69 bit. With him.

 

I ordered more chanpage and a plate bigger than my head, of strawberries. I fely like Julia Roberts in pretty women. But without as good legs. Or smile. Or hair for that matter.

 

We talked again for about an hour. On love. On buisneess. On money. On sex.

 

He asked me what turned me on. I told him I liked guys who pick me up and really fuck me. I left out fraggles’s. I didn’t think that was appropriate for the mood.

I ordered more champange. And more strawberries……

TO BE CONTINUED  …..

13 orgasams in lost angeles …. ( part 2 )

I’ve suppressed so much anger this week I’m very surprised I haven’t eaten my own body weight in pastries. That’s what I would usually do.

I ate half a jar of his almond peanut butter for breakfast this morning .ricecakes and dry cereal. But im letting that go.  ( and breath)

 Plus …I had 13 orgasms in 7 nights

Most down to my clit vibrater. but still…. Its hard to find someone who u can feel that comfortable with to get that out in front of

Dam!

I loved them

I climaxed so hard I screamed. And put up with the manhore shuving his fingers in my mouth hard whilst he screamed in a cheesy LA accent

‘ oh yeah baby yeeeeeeah !‘

I mean …. That is a turn off in itself . but when your about to climax you don’t give a fuck right?! I didn’t. i just needed it.

And I got it.

Thank god for my little vibrating friend. She doesn’t waste time. She gets to the point. And doesn’t feel the need to bullshit about anything,

She’s good

Why would she need to say how good she is!?

She’s secure within herself.

She’s very good at her job.

And I like her a lot.

I just hope she is happy

Why is it a she? ….

I think im BI sexual!

 

As I left his apartment there was a note on his dinning room table . with a cheque for $300

it read

‘ buy your self something nice ’

I wanted to fold it into a small paper aeroplane and leave a note back saying

Dear sir/madam,

we regret to inform you that on this occasion your application has been unsuccessful. This is due to the fact you are dead behind the fucking eyes

 yours truly

miss E.D Opportunity 

instead i took the cheque.

I don’t like myself for that.

I’m getting off the plane and meeting *joe peece,. ( see blog oyster eyes) He has offered to pick me up and drive me to lunch with a spar day attached. No expectations

Im in

Im so in

Ive had a headache for the past 7 days. Its now moved down to my jaw. Thats what LA LA land has done to me. Make me ache. Ache for something real

 

I plan to see the fraggle in 2 nights time. He is comparing in east London at a comedy night.

Half of me wants to not go. Stay in bed and eat fat chips alone . and try and sort out my life by looking for a real job and a cheaper place to live.

But the better half , the Sharon stone half wants to turn up late in a ridiculously short skirt and stand at the side and flutter my false ( will buy some) eye lashes at his all night till he gets so hot and bothered he comes over and gets all flustered and asked me how LA was.

Yes!

I HAVE GOT to do that.

; )

 

Im going to be fat ,old and wrinkly  one day soon. Then what will I do for fun?!!!

 

lights fade:

 

and we hear ‘ dirty Diana ‘ by Michal Jackson

 

onwards to the spar…… the slutty spar!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13 Orgasams in Lost angeles …. ( part 1)

I’m sat on a plane from LAX to Heathrow

its over.

Whatever happened back then , with the manhore. Its over. Im so happy to be away . and feel ok with eating carbs again. Saying that , ive just eaten the ‘chicken and rice dish’ that they provide on the flight and I’m already getting evil looks form the ghost manhore, that is now in my head.

The really annoying thing is I do have feelings for him. Feelings other than mild hatred.

I nearly cryed the night before I left. Granted I was drunk. I have been every night I’ve been here. I’m using the fact that I’ve felt like a fat c**t all week and have needed to drown it outas an excuse/reason. That and the anger over comments like;

‘ bubble butt’

‘I do have coasters… you’ve made a huge ring on my coffe table with that glass’

‘you have your shoes on, on my carpet’

‘look at all this ( few leaves from outside on the bacony) was this you?’

‘pick it up, go on’ ( regarding a golf ball. In a tone I would use on my dog)

I feel sorry for him. the fact I know he is 53 and lonely. Can’t sleep. Is very critical of himself and others. Is unhappy. And hates himself. I can see that. Now I can see that.

I wanted to fix him and make it all better for him.

He would go crazy if I said that to his face. That’s his problem. And it all stems from what everyone thinks of him… its all about what others think!

I thought I was bad.

He blow-dries his hair. And uses hairspray. That alone should have set off huge warning signs.

Have you ever been out with a guy and been introduced to his semi friends and you just know you are one of many many many. The next face passing through. It became obvious.

but I thought ‘ who am I to judge’ look at what I do!!! AND I write a blog about it.

I could of dealt with the fact he usually dates models and brings them out regularly to these  dinners and this charity event we were going to all week ….. but to have a guy not really be that interested in what u have to say or anything about your life. I find that pretty fuckin rude

The problem with LA is everyone is so so scared and desperate that they’re not gonna make it or get what they want in there career that they just turn into little dead heads. However genuine and nice they were in the beginning…. Its drained out of them.

Deadheads are constantly on there best behaviour , looking beautiful and ready to upset nowone. and always trying to get Exactly what they want.  Like snakes.

This alone makes me want to upsey EVERYONE in LA. Get  drunk.  Get Loud. Get Obnoxious, and then take the piss outta anyone and everyone who looks like they have a spoon up there arse. Or ASS as they would have to say

 ‘Eat a carb, have a pint of beer and let your fucking hair extensions down’

The manhore has no idea its over.

I don’t know how to break it to him

We had some very cuddly moments. Mixed with all the shagging.

But his temper and set of values makes me feel sick. So however many orgasms he gave me I have to let him go.

I have too……. don’t i?!

 (FEED BACK WELCOME PEOPLE)

to be continued……

 

American Manhore stay away from me

 

You know that horrible metallic taste that you get after you’ve been sick. I have that now. I’m sitting in a coffee house in Beverley hills. I haven’t been sick

I knew I was walking into the lion’s den in terms of beautiful skinny people everywhere. But. But. My worse fear  came true.

With the words from the Hollywood manhore who i have come to see

‘ have you ever been skinnier? ‘

and

‘what does your face look like’

I said ‘better’

I shouldn’t have. But its true.

I hate that I said that . and hate that its true. And I now hate him.

He was flicking through photos on his I phone of English actress’s that have made it in America. As he was saying he may be able to help me get an agent out here. I gave him some names

‘kate winslet’

his reaction

‘ your way hotter than her’

I replied.

‘well she’s a really good actress… its more about that where I’m from’

next was ‘ carey mulligan’

his reaction

‘ your cuter than her’

I said well she is also v good. And looks really young

Next was ‘ keria knightly’

The disturbing thing apart from the fact he then went on to flick through many many photos of keria knightly looking skinny and beautiful…. And staying… ‘wow shes hot, she’s beautiful ect’ was that he didn’t know who any of these actors are! Has he been in a victoria secrets bubble for the past 15 years?

I think so.

The metallic taste is back

Then came the skinny comments and I wanted to  throw myself on his carpet (that you are not allowed shoes on) and cry and tell him to go fuck himself all at the same time. Instead i pushed it down into my chubby gut. and said my friend was outside and left. She wasn’t .

i waited outside his apartment for 25 mins.

she picked me up and we went for coffee. I couldn’t hear allot of what she was staying as Id glazed over.

The convo eventually went to the Hollywood man I was staying with and she gave him a very bad review. I knew he was a player. But I didn’t know he was a ‘I heart models’ player.

Fucking yuk.

I don’t hate models. I used to be one at 15 years old. But I hate men that only date models. It turns my stomach.

Feeling fat at a size 10 is something I experience in London every day. so you can imagine.

I came back from coffee and told him I was making other plans and leaving the next day.

He was pissed off. Or as they say here ‘pissed’

I wish I was pissed. I want to get so pissed that I can’t walk. Or feel. I wanna get pissed with the fraggle in east London in baggy 80’s trousers and scruffy unwashed hair.  I wanna laugh and not give a fuck about the size of my thighs.

Hollywood manhore went on to say ‘he has treated me like an absolute gentleman with the upper most respect for me’ That was unfortunately true up until that day. He had taught me how to play golf, bought me a sweater to play in as there was a strict dress code. Taken me to a barbeque in a house that could have been Madonna’s. And sushi dinner with the guy who made Angelina jolies engagement ring.

At breakfast he had been texting and setting up dinners pretty intensely with friends who are producers and an agent that he knows. I told him i appreciated what he had done but I hadn’t come out here to do that. Just to see him and see how we got on. After we had had 2 months of us texting Dailey and many viber calls. I wanted to know whether there was any major potential with this Hollywood man of 52. Plus the idea of being a stepford type wife appealed to me and also repulsed me all at the same time.

Does anyone else get that??!

Within the argument were some rather disturbing moments that I can not let go right now …. These are some of the things he said

Re skinny comment;

‘ well I was just saying how committed to your career ARE you?!!!’

within the heated bit of the row;

‘ if you were a guy I would smack you across the room right now’

also later on

‘move over bubble butt’

I went out with my friend Ralph that evening. He is an actor i know that just happened to be in LA.

I didn’t go with manhore to his friends birthday as planned.

We both arrived back at the door of his apartment at the same time. We laughed about the fact he had garlic breath and had eaten his own body wait in that, pasta and oily salad. He said he has body issues too. I replied from the other room

‘ Clearly! ‘

I fell asleep whilst he was in the shower. Woke up this morning at 7am and he was in the spare room.

I ate some almonds for breakfast and felt guilty.

He said he had been in the spare room cos he was coughing and didn’t want to wake me.

I couldn’t go back to sleep so left his apartment with my laptop, the baggyist summer trousers I could find in my case and took my fat bubble ass to coffee.

I kissed him goodbye.

Without feeling

Actress feeling… which is tricky to describe.

Basically you pretend really well and u even convince yourself. But deep down u know its just a show darling…. All a fucking show!

I still have that metallic taste in my mouth.

welcome to HOLLYWOOD kiddo

I want to eat chips  with loads of ketchup and mayo in front of a fire with someone I love.

And who loves me even if I’m fat

Don’t we all want that?

Isn’t that the problem?

If it happens. It everytually will end.

In my experience everything ENDS.

I want something to last forever

Don’t we all?

Isn’t that the point of ‘Dating’?!

Thoughts people ….. thoughts?

Oyster eyes

Date number 5 on ‘what’s your price.com ’

Expected fee – £150

 Bentley seafood restaurant; Piccadilly circus, London

It was pouring with rain. But I blagged a lost property umbrella from my gym that morning.

I didn’t know what to wear. I settled on a ….. wait for it…. I know your on the edge of your seats…

A long navy blue cashmere coat, black shift dress with knee-high boots and black tights.

He was at the bar alone. The waitress walked me too him.

It was pleasant.

Ironically his eyes where very small and oyster like.

The oysters were the best I’ve ever tasted. And I ate raw snails for the first time.

They taste like snails. Not chicken

Very snailish

He was looking for ‘ a long-term mutual arrangement’ his wife has been very ill with MS for 12 years. She was bed ridden. I felt upset for him. I had judged him as another grey haired rich promiscuous perv.

Does having a wife with MS make you immune. I don’t know.

Nothing interesting happened apart from he gave me an extra £50. He slipped it in my cashmere coat as we walked down Piccadilly in the rain under my lost property umbrella.

I thanked him.  I kissed him on the side of the mouth and went straight to the bank to deposit the money. I then went to Selfridges to spend a £50 voucher that had been burning a hole in my wallet for 3 months.

I had taken back something that a man had bought me. And got the credit, what did I ever need with elbow length black leather gloves!?

That one I had met through ‘sugar daddie.com’

We had met 3 months previous for lunch and he had treated me to a few items. One being an all saints leather jacket ( Smiley fucking face)

He had wanted a long-term ‘arrangement’ I had freaked out afterwards cos I thought he was too old and too fat for that kind of thing to work.

It’s not that I hate fat people. I have been one. And have slept with a few. I think jack black’s is one of the sexist guys alive. Followed maybe by nick helm.

I don’t know what is was.

Maybe I hated myself for using him for free clothes and dinner.

Or maybe I just wasn’t attracted to him. and wasn’t desperate/ broke enough to pretend.

So clearly I texted him on my post oyster snail champagne £200 high whilst I was in Selfridges spending my £50 voucher on a black blazer and ghetto gold earrings.

Sharon stone in casino KEEPS coming out.

He was there within 30 minutes.

This is too easy.

We had dinner. And laughed about the fact I never called him after our first date/ shopping trip.

Lets call this guy ‘Joe Pesci’

He drove me home and we talked about what I wanted in life.

He told me he could give me what I wanted, everything financial to make me very very comfortable for a few years till I meet ‘the one’ and wanted settle down.

This is a very tempting offer.

Would you do it?

I feels like selling my soul to the devil. It shouldn’t. He is not the devil. He is a nice man.

But what would my mum say?!

I got home. Changed out of my high-class hooker outfit into my 80’s MC hammer pants, dirty converse , ‘hole’ sleeve less t shirt and but on my all saints leather jacket.

I got the bus to Camden and met my flatmate and her friend to see a band in a dingy pub for 5 pounds.

After we walked to a sing along Amy Whinehouse night at the ‘purple turtle’ and spoke about strap ons.

They both were like  ‘ yeah I’d do that ’

Is this what everyone’s doing now?! ..…. Fucking there skinny jeans wearing floppy  haired boyfriend’s in the arse’s with strap ons??!!

I’m so outta the loop.

Or hole.

I don’t wanna be in the hole. Thanks

I’m already in a fucking hole.

We sang ‘ total eclipse of the heart’ at the giant screen accompanied by the very married live band and the rest of the sweaty room. I danced with a 23-year-old Pete Doherty wannabe with bad breath.

The next day I went to the gym.

MOOD CHANGE and Que music ; Nicki Minaj ‘I am your leader’

listen to it now if you can.

Now I haven’t told you about this one.

This one is personal trainer that I’ve seen 3 times over the last few weeks. I met  him at the start on the dating diary whist on pof.com.  (a normal dating site) He is fairly normal. Well I thought. Yeah….. wait for it.

I met his friends on Edgeware Rd on one of our dates, they were all laughing and smoking sheek. then we all went to the playboy mansion casino in a convoy of sport’s  cars with personalised number plates. On a Sunday afternoon.

Normal, right.

He has the body of Nelly. And the teeth to match.

I think that’s HOT.

He picks me up in his bmw convertible with his gangster wrap pumping.

We trained together. at my gym. He then stretched me out after. At my gym.

HOT

We then had a sauna together.  He kept eyeing up my arse.

HOT

We went to get some extra keys cut (cos im going away to L.A tomorrow)

Not so HOT

He handed me £20 and i bought summery food and wine to make us lunch back at my house/ just a room.

HOT

We kissed in my small kitchen over a protein shake.

HOT

As I was cooking the turkey breasts it went south

HOT

I had him in my hand.

I have NEVER felt one that big before. I said ‘ fuuuuucking hell’

He said

‘ Don’t look down’

HOT

It resulted in something from ‘u porn.com’ that’s all I’m gonna say. But without the orgasm noises.

But I didn’t . you know.

Well….. you know.

Come.

I got rid of him by 6pm cos I had to pack. Plus I wanted my own space back.

I met a guy 2 months ago whilst in LA. I was there visiting, on my back from spending 2 months in Montana working on a horse ranch trying to ‘find myself’

Yes. I’m still looking.

Waste of time.

( But I can now know now to cut a baby bulls bollocks off. And have shagged a real cowboy. So that’s 2 things off my bucket list )

We spent a few evenings together amongst friends.

Then one night together.

I remember waking up on top of him wearing his sweat pants and nothing else.

He had his hands in my hair and I was nuzzled in his neck we were sleeping as if we were one person.

My flight left in 3 hours. He wanted me to stay and ‘hang out’ some more. I clearly panicked and threw my clothes on in a drunken stoned haze.

He followed me to the lift in his boxer shorts. For a man of 53 this guy looked amazing. He could pass for 40.

i said ‘ I’ll be back’

I’m not sure if I really meant it.

2 months later. and he’s booked a flight for me to come and ‘hang out’ for 8 days.

I’m on the plane now. Right now!

I’m nervous.

I can’t remember what he is like to kiss.

He booked the flight 3 weeks ago,

I wish I had made him come to London to ‘hang out’

I’m nervous

And I’m on my period

It’s all wrong.

I arrive in LAX in 7 hours.

What the fuck am I doing??!!!

To be continued……

( if u like this post/blog please repost or tweet it ect. i can’t. as its anonymous! )

Diamond DICK head

Does a place called ‘Malmuk’ even exist!?

Apparently date number 4 (the fat Arab on whats your price.com) was from there.

He showed up an hour late and sat down opposite me whilst I was on my laptop and said in a very weird foreign accent

‘ Always vorking darlink’

then…

‘ vench or Italian!?’

I said vench. Which I thought meant French.… fish… low fat…. Yes. Good.

He then took me to café rough! A so called diamond mercent. Cafe rough!??!!

Then I should have known.

then I should have left.

Instead I was so hungry and angry I just smiled and asked him about his job , where he lived ect. Anything to make the following expected 3 hours pass quicker.

I ordered the salmon salad. With pink champagne (apparently that’s one of the lowest fat drinks you can get. Apparently) I’m fucking obsessed. I know.

He was v rude to the young polish boy waiter looking man . I smiled at the him as I ordered in a…. I know he is cunt, but I’ll get you a good tip kinda way

The next hour was spent with him showing me photo upon photo of diamonds, money and gold.

Seriously.

In between texting. I didn’t mind. It meant I could break eye contact and look at my phone to see if anybody had texted me. Anybody . any fraggle. Any old fraggle.

He then kissed my hand.

He then got up and said he needed to make a call to ‘ Some Chinese stupid client’

He but £60 on top of my bag.  He said he would be right back. And left.

I knew i would never see him again.

I finished my salad, his salad, my drink. Then his drink.

And Waited for 30 mins.

The polish waiter looked on. He lent me his I phone charger for 5 minutes.  I got a text from the diamond dick head saying

‘ I go to get more cash to offer you overnight to get to know each other better ; ) ‘

I payed the bill quickly. It came to £40.

I gave the polish boy £10.

I kept the extra £10.

And left.

I put the £10 on my oyster card at Knightsbridge tube station.

I was back to square one.

ZERO.

I listened too ‘work ( explicit edit) Iggy Azalea on my I pod on the tube.

Listen to it now if you can.

CUT TOO; 8.30pm Hoxton square.

I drank a few drinks with the fraggle and deano and another friend who seemed like the kind of man you could tell everything too. He had kind eyes and a beard.

It was weird with the fraggle. Weird as in maybe its all in my head and there is nothing there between us. It was disappointing.  I strutted about in my red lipstick and was all ‘yeah look at me i’m kool’ and he was very fraggle like and reserved and scarcastic. i held his eye contact a little longer to see what happened. I got mild butterflies.

Mild.

I wanted to put him in an intense stare off and slowly push his fraggle hair from his face. And kiss him slowly on his feminine lips. Leaving a (‘lady danger’ from mac) lipstick print on the side of his delicate gay mouth.

Instead I went home on the number 214 bus. I wanted to eat 5 McDonald happy meals on that bus home. But instead felt my feelings. and texted my beautiful friend ‘ diamond’ (that may or may not be a fake name)

If I was mega rich I would give lots of it to ‘ diamond’ I feel as though she is the younger sister I never had. Even though I have already got a younger sister. She is in allot of pain with an addiction. I know this addiction well. I want to help her.

But I cant.

It all costs money.

Money I don’t have.

One day this will all make sense.

One day I will be able to pay my rent.

One day I will be successful.

One day Simon Pegg and Steve coogan will have a bitch fight over who wants to work with me most.

One day diamond will get better.

One day this will all make sense.

One day.

Lights down. And que track

‘ goo goo dolls IRSH’