* THE FABULOUS CONFESSIONS OF !

            this, at least, is something to smile about. dear baby jesus, why did you make americans so vair vair depressing? they make me upset. i’ll get wrinkles. “oh, portugal? near the spain-y area, yes? tres magnifique. did you like it?”

           “we are a teeny tiny band.”

          i am greatly afraid that this boy is going to start to cry, so i must work quickly. “hm? where? it can’t be england. or finland, or swissland, or one of those types. the sun only shines half of the year over there. vair tragic.”

         i lobe americans vair vair much. everything they say is so nonsensical. “how are the policemen supposed to fall for that? they will be very suspicious and sniff out the rat in the pond, if you will.” god, i am so full of catchphrases. i should get a lawyer to write them all down. “i do not have a party scale, no. i have many dances that i perform at parties with my gang, but we don’t rate parties. do you hamburger-types?”

         there are two things wrong with jake: one, he is undeniably gorgey, and i get a case of jelloid-head whenever he talks to me, and two, he is unashamedly american. honestly, if i were him, i would be too embarrassed about how american i was to ever open my mouth. even so, he is a bit of a laugh to wind up. “do you people have pot noodles? we have them every night for a nutritious lunch at home, because my mutti is crap,” i say, and i’m smiling, even though it’s true.

          “i am without a shadow of doubtosity vair amusant!” it does not matter the context. i am only being honest.

         “what does that say about me? casual sophisticate? inner vixen struggling to get out? girlfriend of a sex god? or twit?”

          “my cat angus is quite possibly clinically insane. i took him out for his walkies and he ate the lead and then chased mr next-door’s poodles up a tree.” this is the way my life is going. i am sat on a park bench lamenting my cat owner woes to an eleven year old. “he is playing in the fountain right now. do you see him? he is the prat about the size of a small loon.”

           honestly, people can be so unprepared. i am so glad that i sorted out my entire life before i was nineteen. i imagine i shall be talking about this very moment when i am being interviewed -- smoky room, my dark sunglasses, i have developed a french accent. tres beau. “planning for the future isn’t even that hard. i, for example, am going to be a backing dancer who dabbles in keeping bees. you see? vair simple.”

         these hamburger-a-gogo types are bad at understanding my jokes A LOT. it is vair vair tiring being full of wisdom and hilariousnosity when no one speaks your language. even so, the show must go on. bit cold today, so i turned jake and said, “brr. it’s a bit nippy noodles, isn’t it?”

          canon line call just so i get used to what tf is going on !

      *  HELLO,  MON  PETIT  PALLIES  !   it’s me, georgia, backing dancer and glove animal extraordinaire ! to join my world of fab and learn all about the snogging scale, my mad cat angus, and how to escape the rack of luuurve, reblog or like this post ! toodle - pup, chumly wumlies -- i’m away laughing on a fast camel !