Tuesday 25 November 2014

I'm not gona sit here

an moan. Well, I am but like, not much. I don't wanna harp on but I think there's too much pressure to have a perfect relationship, what with the opportunity to cheat being so easy. Tinder, POF and Grindr are an app away and you could have a match on your doorstep within minutes. They say all a girl wants is Loyalty and Orgasms. I happen to want more. But I'm not talking fancy expensive restaurants, having jewellery thrown at me left, right an cenny or being bombarded with love letters all the time. I'm actually quite simple, as many of you know. To give you an idea what I'm on about, I've compiled the following to show you what I expect in a relationship. 

Tracksuits. I do like a man who dresses well. Beckham is deffo on point with his clobber. A nice groomed man to show off wouldn't you agree? But not too groomed, ya don't want a diva. There is a time and place for a suit. And I don't mean Crown Court. A fella looks his most manliest and sexiest to me, when he's got his trackie bottoms on an a hoodie to match. There's a reason why us birds love joggers:- you can see the outline. Nuff said. 

Beards. Not the long hipster beards, no. Can't be doin with them. Too frizzy, sign of pretentiousness and too high maintenance. Fickle with fashion and likely to dump you if he doesn't like your choice of coffee beans. Just a couple of days growth will do nicely. For me to stroke. And bite. It calms me down when I can't cope. 

Junk Food. I'm an ex fatty. I was a size 20. Fine for some, but for my height, it was absurd. Face like an apple pie an legs like footstools. Somehow I lost weight and me boobs stayed massive. Winner. Anyway I'm just showin off now... The gist being, I love me food. I pure love a mazzy big fat scran. Take me to TGI an I'm MADE UP. I love desserts too. Are we fuck leavin before I've had chocolate fudge cake! Don't want someone who's on me case about eating healthy all the time! No TAR! Swerve the salads, give me pure stodge.  

Compliments. Tell me I'm beautiful. Tell me I have nice hair. Sure. Do not tell me I have great tits (I know this already babes)  and arse to match. Do not tell me I'm alright for a ginger and certainly don't try and mimic my fucking accent. You can't do it. And stop asking me to say the word "Chicken". This does not get me hot and bothered. Its embarrassing and not as original and hilarious as you think. Don't then start accusing me of robbing your wallet, shouting "Calm Down, Calm Down!!"

Football. Can't be doin with a fella who doesn't like footie. And his team can't be Man Utd either. Me ma would go spare. 

Chill the Fuck Out. The more chilled you are, the more chilled I'll be. I don't need someone who constantly wants a tear up. Be assed with petty rows over whatsapp either over NOT'IN.

I Like Junk TV. And I like to watch it in my pj's whilst eating Nutella. Leave me be. 

Build. Taller than me. Nice arms. Nice hands. I'm not askin for Zac Efron (unless he's up for it like), just someone who is a bit fit so I at least fancy him.

Sex. Sorry family, you may wanna look away, but yes I do know what sex is. I don't go putting it about yano. But it is vital in a relationship. And so are the handcuffs and vanilla lube. 

Prezzies. A trip to The Disney Store wouldn't go a miss. I'm pretty up front when it comes to prezzies cos ill just tell you what I want instead of dropping hints. Saves the hassle doesn't it? Lipgloss please babes. And theatre tickets to plays I'm  interested in. I'm quite the intellect when I wanna be. An no, not friggin Jersey Boys or Urinetown.

Scouse. It's more than an accent, it's a way of life. My family and friends are scouse. We come as a package. Liverpool is my babe an you skit it I'll have murder with ya. 

Boobs. I love boobs. Big boobs. If you find that a problem then ya bin bagged. I even love me own. Sometimes I just stare at them. I stick me hands down my cleavage when it's cold. Boobs are boss, end of. 


I think I've pretty much covered everything. If anyone's got any questions, send me a SAE to my MySpace and I'll fax you a fact sheet. Tra. xoxoxo