Bastard school runs and mums....

I know I've not blogged for over a week but im finding it hard to sit down and actually write as I'm either hungover or changing shitty nappies....but when I've got a bee in my bonnet I'm good to go... Firstly I must excuse this harshness of this blog as one.... I'm a little bit tipsy ( it is Friday people) and two...there is no two?!! Anyway, here I rant, For the love of god I fucking hate the school run...I hate it with such a passion I debate giving the kids a day off school just so I don't have to do it...I hate the actual drive itself as the car is full of screams and slinging things at each other, there's arguments about what music to have and arguments about where here gonna sit..then you have parking on arrival at school..fuck off!!! There's never no where to park and to be honest by the time I do find a place it's miles from the school and I'm debabting staying in the car and calling a cab? I just dont know how these mums get there that early for these prime spots, they must leave there houses at 7.30? And the places they get are shit hot places, just outside the gates, the places that I would happily pay for? Not only do these type of mums get these VIP parking places but they also are well equipped, as in they all have umbrellas, there kids are all wrapped up with mittens and hats on, there carrying bags of donations of pens, tissues and old clothes for the school jumble and they have a spring in there step? These woman live for school, they read In the car before school, they bake shit hot cakes for the school fete and are always on the desk at school discos taking the money? I didn't even know there was a position for that sort of job as that's right up my street!! In one way I'm jealous, I'm jealous that someone can be that organised and into this school shit, and then in another breath I think you goody two shoes show off?? I'm a good mum, my kids are well dressed and fed, my house is tidy and we enjoy going out..but those banana bread mums have a knack of putting you to shame...take this morning for example, I had to go to school to watch my 8 year old Frankie do his poetry debut in assembly... I make my way there and plonked my arse on the seat and wait...now I like a bit of performance..and when Frankie eventually arrived to do his bit I was proud...but then the giggles set in and I found my self laughing very loudly at my own son, well not at him..but he had to do this poem where he had to run on the spot really fast and the other kids skipped round him... I don't know what set me off but I lost it..I tried looking round for moral support but they shook there heads in disgust... why didn't anyone else find this funny?? It fucking baffled me?? It was funny!?? My son was dancing on stage and people were skipping round him?!! It was funny?!! End!!! You see, these banana bread/mitten mothers are the sort of mums that don't laugh..they smirk, they spend there lives with scooters and helmets in there hands ( still can't get my head round a helmet for a scooter) and adjusting there snotty nose kids mittens that are attached to there jackets... Years ago when I moved to Hertfordshire our eldest son was placed in a school that I can only describe as hell...these women were the worse set of witches I had ever come across, they complained about sonny because he was a fast runner, they complained about sonny because his dad was a footballer and they didn't think it was fair that kids wanted to be his friend because of marc...this lot never fucking shut up, this one woman who reminded me of a man kept knocking my baseball hat off ( it was fashionable 10 years ago people) and although she was saying it was a joke she was pissing me off..so after about 2 weeks of grief with this banana bread witch I pulled her... And it kicked off..massively...and as a result I was expelled from the school, given a £500 fine and a criminal conviction for violent conduct? i never touched her, I just told her it was rude and she gave me such a verbal abuse about sonny and the way he was I was quite harsh with my words and it went off from there? The thing is you can't win with these banana bread women, they have connections in high places within the PTA and your never gonna win, i ended up taking sonny out of school and from that day i never mixed with those banana bread/mitten mothers again...it still gets my goat though and if your a mitten mother i take my hat off to you...good luck with your scooter and your snotty kids, good luck with your shitty banana bread and good luck with your smirk...i on the other hand shall always be late for school, I shall always be pissed midweek and I will always but my cakes from tesco for the school fete!!!! shall always with them?? I cant with me taking sonny out of school and having to find a different school, and fro. That day on I've never mixed with school mums of that brand...there dangerous..

travelling the world...seeing nothing!!

Once upon a time when I had the Job Title of a "Model" I was lucky enough to of travelled and lived in many Countries. I lived in Spain, France, Italy, New York, Tokoyo and Germany, and travelled to many more destinations. I loved it as it meant I got to busy my young talkative mouth to other cultures...alot never got my sense of humour but I never cared so long as it amused me...now if youve been reading my blogs you will know Im not known for being good...there is a very naughty streak in me and Im sorry to say it was worse when I was younger. When I was just 16 I had a documentary made about myself as I was the youngest girl living in Paris at that time modelling, I think it was the BBC that shot it ? Anyway.....they arrived and I was expected to give an insight into my world and how and what I thought of it...followed by me doing a shoot along the cobble streets looking very English and floaty..There first mistake was giving me a mic...dont ever give me a mic...be it at a party, TV event or a  Karoke night as you will never get it back...I chatted shit  for hours, I think I even managed to talk about my rave days and how I loved Drum and Bass....I managed to do all of this chewing gum and blowing bubbles with it...really really un lady like...then came to the shoot, I was told to walk in a straight line and pout down the camera..I got distracted like always and ended up having to re-shoot it loads of times as I kept waving at all the french blokes as they bibbed me....And when I got a bollocking from the owner all I did was laugh, I didnt give a shit, and the more she shouted the more I laughed...I was sent home not long after. That trip was the first of many and although I managed to live there for nearly 6 months I didnt embrace the culture as I was to young, I did however manage to get some Japanese culture down my throat and to this day it still haunts me... I hated the whole experience, there the most hard working people I have come across and in those days I never did hard work, you had to be up at 3am for photo shoots, they refused to speak to you on the shoot as there so hell bent of squeezing every last juice of pictures out of you, and dont even start me on the food.....You ask for a tuna..you get a fucking tuna, eyes, fins and guts...its a tuna?! Every week you would be measured and on this one particular week I was told "you neck to fat..you lose neck fat in week..go home" so you had to go home if any of your measurements were out? They were also frightened of pubic hair..I learnt this the hard way, I was doing a photo shoot in swimwear and when I stripped off they had a paddy and basically started to scream in my face? I thought a fucking deadly spider was crawling up my leg by the way she was pointing and going into one.....FFS its fanny hair?? get over it? and bearing in mind I was still young, there wasnt alot there anyway?! But I managed to have the last laugh on that one...one time at a casting for a bikini catalogue we all had to line up in there swimwear,and as they were walking down the line looking at our figures I managed to get some pubes out and rest them just outside my bottoms so as they approached there were faced with me giggling loudly and my hair , collar and cuffs!!!! You should of been there..I thought the client was gonna pass out!! It was hilarious! My partner in crime and flat mate on that wonderful trip was the lovely Jules Oliver, we modelled at the same agency in London and were both sent to Japan on 4 month contracts and it was nice being with someone from home, she was a lot less street wise then me so I had to look after her, shes thanked me ever since as it was one tough place to live and work at such a young age. After that trip I really wanted to get over to New York as I heard it was buzzing and I do 24/7, so I got a 6 month contract with Ford Models and off I flew, New York was everything I expected and more, I loved it!!! I got to party with shit loads of celebs, drink when I wanted and I worked well over there because of my british attitude ...I had a few hiccups of course and was slung out a couple of places for throwing pepper pots and salt at people but all in all I was on quite good behaviour. My biggest regret was not staying longer, but again I got homesick and just flew home one day on a whim and never returned?! I wish I had embraced the cultures more so I could tell the kids stories of mountains Id climbed or seas Id swam in but the truth is I didnt...I think the most I ever done was on a trip to Mauritus and the photographer offered to take us all Marlin fishing...Now I never knew what a Marlin was, and I never cared to ask, I just wanted to put my silly little pink bikini on and sunbathe on a boat..the boat ended up being nothing bigger than a fucking pedalo and when i finally realised this was serious fishing I couldnt stop crying  as I thought we was going to get eaten by a shark ...and when he tried to calm me down and show me a killer whale in the distance I nearly threw myself in the shark infested waters and got it over and done with...it was horrific and Ive strugged with water every since...and sharks..they are my biggest fear ..along with crocs...banana bread and tuna
Night people...

CBB

I wasnt going to go there , but after the last 2 nights of CBB It had to be done..what the fuck is going on in there? Im hooked on reality style tv programmes and I've been glued to this years CBB, firstly because a friend of ours is in it and secondly because I cannot get my fucking round some of the characters in there...firstly Mr Stone...what is it?? What does it do ?? Who is it??? I don't think he should of gone that quick as regardless of his fucking annoyance he was TV Gold ( his words not mine darling) it made me feel normal watching him..and anyone that does that deserves more TV airtime, but the public wasnt a lover so off the Stoney danced..ignoring all boos and heavily clapping himself...then we had the brother shagger Natasha..who I actually thought came across well, yes she did something that wasn't the best move in her family but she owned up,she didnt shy away from constant questions from Nicola and she got on with it? It wasn't my family she wreaked so her antics didn't really bother me, she has to live with it... Was she a celebrity!? No, but neither really was Andrew,Frankie,Kirk,Gareth,twins,Romeo or Georgia? I've got a love for Denise, the fact she's 53 and still up for it Secretly tickles me, yes I cringed when those tits came out but who cares? There only tits and I say fuck it..if she wants to get them out at 53.. Get them out, she's not harming anyone, if anyone was that uncomfortable in the house they should of just walked away and not stood and jeered her then talked about her behind her back...that is probably one of my pet hates about those sour face twin things...they judge..I hate people who judge others when there just as bad if not worse? The twins in a nutshell are nothing short of escorts, they are paid to stay in a house with a man who is nearly 80 who wears a silky dressing gown and boasts about women and taking Viagra ...yes he's a ledge, he's Hugh?! but come on? These twins are voicing an innocence that isnt there? I know it's there job and modelling is seen as a craft/art but don't go on like your shit dont stink and your near enough a virgin when your both quite clearly not...the only difference between Denise and the twins that night was Denise got her tits out for nothing...I'm not saying the twins should expose themselves just because there play boy girls and do it for a living, I'm saying don't judge others...be quiet..fuck off in a corner and stop being bitchy..yes your beautiful, yes your bodies are lovely...are you the best things out there?? Not by a long shot and they will screw up at some point as people that are that self obsessed always do...I've seen it happen a lot in this business..the way they talk about themselves isn't healthy and I feel sorry for them. Next up with have Micky boy..not too bad for a Hollywood star..he looks like he gets dressed in the dark, but he's played the game and apart from his little digs at Denise his stalker he hasn't really offended me, and that goes for Romeo as well, he's just happy to talk in that low sexy voice and sit on that fence looking street...I have gained much love and respect for that cheeky chappy Frankie!! Him sticking up for Denise and caning the twins was the icing on the cake for me, but even before that I was loving his chat and childish ways... Kirk is Kirk, a little spoilt good looking rich kid with a bit of Essex banter.. Would we get on? Probably?! Would we row?? Probably? Who else we got? Georgia.....bbboorrriiinnngggggggg, Natalie I enjoyed very much and I was expecting her to stay for longer and was quite shocked when she went, gareth is entertaining me much more now and his body is nice to look at so he can stay... Im not going to comment on Nicola as it wouldn't be fair as we know her... Although I having been watching her and I have been shocked... I'm looking forward to watching tonights show and I hope it gets even better as I love the tears and tantrums....I want more arguments, more tasks, less food, more drink, I want the house to be punished ,I want more more more more!!! I love it!!! I'm obsessed with it! And I need it in my life,Celeb Big Brother I salut you!! who do I want to win!??? At this moment in time Frankie...will I pick up my phone and vote for him? Will I fuck!! speak later people x

A woman's work is never done....( my moan)

When my mum used to moan at my dad when I was younger I just never got it? She'd moan about the mess of the house, the lids being left of the butter, my dads golf stuff by the front door,us drinking from the milk bottle, anything that got on her nerves was quickly off her chest within seconds with a mothers moan... I remember thinking that when i grew up I was never going to moan like that ever... I also was never going to have kids and I was almost certainly never going to clean up after any man.....well how fucking wrong was I on that one? I've ended up with 4 kids...a husband that doesn't know where his wardrobes are so he has to leave his clothes where ever he undresses and I moan all fucking day? It might not be an in your face style moan... But put me with a group of other mummy moaners and I'm away... When my mum used to moan saying "a woman's work is never done" when i was younger i never got that either? my only troubles I ever had to worry about was if the bloke I fancied with that curtain hairstyle was gonna be at the youth club that weekend.. And if he was would I be snogging him? I didn't have worries back then, I never had to really tidy ? Never had to cook,and I didn't really worry or care for no one but myself... NOW. I can't even shower without one of my kids deciding that they need to go poo..I've not peed on my own for years as they manage to unlock the door and ask me where there Lego wheel or PSP is? I've not slept a full nights sleep for years as at least one of them will wake...the house is a constant reminder of how much stuff you have to do and it never ends...I can honestly say I totally understand that phrase my mum said all those years ago... I've moaned to marc a few times, maybe more than a few times and he is very understanding and very generous on the offer of a little blonde Russian girl that could stay with us and help out while she studies English.... I thanked him for his kind offer and politely said no.............fucking way!!!!! That was his offer of help.... He still stands by that offer now... It doesn't matter if you have one kid or ten, it doesn't matter if you have a helpful husband or a lazy git, as a woman you are programmed to moan and programmed to want to busy yourselves and basically fill all your spare time multi tasking yourself into a frenzy...you should see the state of me before a Hoilday... It's like I'm having a break down whilst I'm packing...I hyper ventilate if marc comes in and disrupts my piles of daytime clothes and I turn into a wild woman... And I've now on top of all the panic packing saga have taken to having the house spring cleaned before I leave? Clean sheets and carpets?! Why!!!!??? What the fuck has happened to me??? When did this nutty version of my own mum arrive?? I was once a lazy bitch that spent days in bed chilling...doing fuck all...I'd get up, and go out...come in...go to bed... How mad is it that a woman can change just because she's got a house or kids? That's why I think I go mad when I eventually get out...I get so excited about getting out and not having to be on shit alert...that I go wild...take this Saturday for example...me and the Mason are off out into London with all my London fashion lot that Id worked with when I was modelling years ago, were going for dinner and then off to some clubs, the person that is booking our guest lists and knows me well has had to book at least 4 clubs as he knows when us lot get together we are mad and that were probably gonna get slung out of all the venues...and I make him 100% right...we probably will...were all mums now and none of us have grown up and none of us want to go home... I know Saturday night I'm going to end up flashing, swearing, doing shots, talking shit to anyone that will listen to me, pretend I'm 21 years old and then row when they question me and my lying, and then I'll probably eat a kebab be sick and start crying....but it will be so worth it...that one night of freedom to do as I please totally makes up for the months of cleaning and changing nappies...that wild night out makes everything even in my eyes!! And I can't fucking wait!!! To all my mummy moaners...treat yourself Girlies and get out...failing that Marc has a numbe of a little Russian exchange student on speed dial....

Everyone needs a Lee Mason

When I first started doing these blogs there was one person jumping up and down in the background like a 5 year old begging me to talk about her...warts an all...that person is my best mate Mrs Lee Mason and like me shes not mentally right, which is why she is the perfect partner in crime for me.Now there are stories about Mason that will make you shudder and if written wrong could make you think this girl needs to be sectioned...but I'm telling you now this girl is fucking funny, if you need a bit of cheering up this girl will be on your doorstep in seconds...not to talk about you or why your upset...that's not Masons style... On arrival She'd just cup-cake you....( fart in her hand and throw in in your face)....now some may find that disgusting, I find it smelly, yet refreshing as alot of people I have come across do tend to try and be my friend for all the wrong reasons, I don't do fake and Mason is as real as they come. When I first met Mason it was in a fitness class at the gym...there she was jumping around doing all the wrong moves and I was just behind giggling as I'd found someone who was worse than me...we started talking and for the last 13 years or so we've fucked about and got into all sorts of trouble, it drives Marc up the wall and on many an occasion we have been told to grow up....boring.... On some days when Id been to work and been surrounded by lovie darlings and I needed a bit of normal time Lee would tell me a story about how that morning she had stuffed talc up her bare arse...farted in her husbands face and as the talc flew out she'd sing "Puff the magic dragon" at him..he'd go mad and scream and shout, but this just made her antics worse....another time Grant her husband who is a football manager had gone and got the team bus and left it open outside her house.. She sneaked on, mooned out of his drivers side window rubbing her arse all over the steering wheel and got me to take pictures of it, then when he was driving the lads to the match she sent him the pictures... One of my favourite holidays was with The Mason in Ibiza.. We went with a Journalist who was working as one of the 3am girls and she was covering all gossip out there, every morning we used to go and soba up with coffee and breakfast at the beach cafe...one day the little Spanish owner came out and asked us why we was always laughing and what was our names? Before I could even tell him Mason pointed at me and said "she's called Licker...I'm called Mya she's called Minger" so he said...aaahhhhhhh Licker Mya Minger!? what beautiful names....and every flipping morning he greeted us as that....in front of everyone, it was also on that Hoilday that after a load of Germans had taken over our pool and were being quite rude to us and it was getting a bit heated..Mason got off her sunbed...ran...dived bombed them all right in the middle taking out half the pool water..then pissed in the pool as she swam around them....there faces were a picture.... Every day I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself... The thing is , I need Mason in my life, she makes my day brighter and makes me feel normal...I could go on and on about her, telling you stories after stories but they won't do her justice, every day is a mad one with her, from her sticking a nude picture of her husband on the door so when the kebab man turned up grant would open the door and know that the kebab man had seen his bits...or the time we went to Butlins with all our kids and she started a fucking food fight with Marc in the middle of dinner slinging pots of Mayo all over him....or at my wedding in Cyprus she found a massive long bannister and slide down it about a hundred times because she was bored...or even the time she made grant take back a blanket to debenhams on Boxing day only to hide her vibrator in it for banter, it fell on the floor in front of everyone in the queue and the lady behind the counter asked him to leave....This blog may or may not of interested you but it had to be done for the simple reason that I love her and she deserves it...More stories of Mason will follow, but for now I thought I'd ease you in ....the story of her shitting on the M25 can wait another day...... Lee Mason is available for hire : call ( 0898 cupcake) for prices...

Wag

Everyone I meet assumes my life as a Footballers wife is perfect...they assume I want for nothing, I live in a mansion and all I do is shop all day.... its bullshit?!  Yes I fucking shop all day but its at Tescos and Primark?? Yes I may have a couple of Mulberry bags that I have been blessed with, but alot of my bags are snides...its not that I cant afford them, but I sometimes just cant justify that amount of money on a bag. End!?
I never got pissed off with being called a wag, I married a footballer and I was proud of him, but there was some girls that were just plain wrong and they just loved being called a Wag?  
Ive  met alot of Wags and there was a time when as an agent I used to look after quite a few, When  non wag  girls realised what sort of agency I was running I had email after email begging me to take them on or even  come to one of my monthly parties, these parties were just for footballers to enjoy a private drink and not be hassled, but as an agent of glamour models as well as wags there was always going to be pretty faces at my parties..much to Marcs delight..so these girls knew that these parties had pots of gold there for them...needless to say I could see though most of these girls and they were never invited.
 It  was unreal the lenghts these girls would go to just to bag a footballer and be on my books,some of these lads arnt blessed in the looks department , yet they could  always pull a page 3 girl?? Some of the girls that approched me to be with my agency claimed to have slept with hundereds of footballers, some claimed they were seeing a footballer but couldnt name him as he was married? some were even seeing the same lad?  All these girls desparate to be a wag... I knew that this wag thing was going to get bigger and when I  was approached by a production company to supply a list of wags for the show Wags Boutique I knew it was going to be a hit, as Id seen the interest in my agency, so I selected a few girls and sent them over,some of us was selected and the show eventually begun....
To be honest the show was a bit tacky but the pot of gold for me was the fact that we was doing something for charity and that people would benefit from us selling clothes...it wasnt hard? standing there chatting to everyone was my cup of tea, I love talking, I will talk to anyone...unfortunatley some of the other slags..-sorry wags never got this? So I clashed..and I clashed..and I clashed, I just didnt get it? Firstly your not that fucking special and your fella isnt even that good a football, secondly your meant to be part of a team so be on time, dont be rude and do your fucking job? It drove me up the wall, granted I was pregnant at the time so my hormones were at its bitchy season but still...
On one occasion a certain bubble air head swanned off in the middle of filming to go and buy a £2000 bag...just because her friend had it..filming was halted..whilst shopping took place...customers were left waiting and I was left speechless.. on another occasion by this certain young lady I was told that my language was offensive and that her mum would of never let her swear like that and that I needed to calm it...fair comment, my mouth is rude and I took it all on  board.. not 2 minutes later I heard her tell another wag that her mum had  put her on the pill at 12 because she was sexually active with her then boyfriend of 14....  I just turned to her and  said "Are you fucking kidding me?"  your moaning at me because your mum doesnt allow you to swear, and you think Im  rude yet your mum allows you to fuck at 12?   We were  just from different words and we clashed big time, I swore more then I ever did when she was around from then on....
We all had a laugh on that show and we made shit loads of money £500,000 and its a shame they never did another one but ITV sold the format abroad....
The show was a huge  hit  and  I made some unlikey friends from it, just recently I went to Cassies wedding and she looked amazing, she married a footballer called Jose Fonte and they seem very happy together, I also see alot of Nicola T, her ability to be able to produce noises from her front bottom when asked was one of the funniest things I have ever come across and although she refuses to do it now unless I beg she still has blessed me with some great memories. I have lots more stories that will eventually come out in these blogs, and maybe one day Ill start naming names...maybe ill just leave you guessing..one last bit of gossip  for you,  this  certain girl and her fella enjoyed what me and Marc would call "BITTY"  google Little Britan if your struggling...we could never look at him the same way again...ha!!!!

Sofa football....

I've been happily married ( ha it tickles me even writing that) for nearly 10 years to Mr Marc Bircham, at the time when we first started dating he was playing football, not that that ever interested me, I was more interested in the fact that he looked like Sid Owen and had a mutual love of pie and mash and chaz and Dave.... We first met at a charity do and he was on crutches hobbling on the stair case,and I think my first words were " fuck off out of my way and let me through" and then I sloshed pass him and made my way to the bar in an outfit that can only do justice on a hooker...but that was the fashion back then so I'm gonna let that one go...( it was a leather corset and leather trousers combo) anyway that night was when we first clocked each other and the rest is history.. I used to love football before I met marc...not for the football mind?! Noooooo!! I just loved going where boys went basically?! On a Saturday I'd get all glammed up and go to mill wall, drink in the pubs before hand, sing a few football songs, then reluctantly go watch the match, only to go back in the pub straight after with all the boys again?! Brilliant!! But then I had to start taking this football thing seriously .... I mean, I'm watching and supporting my husband play right?... So every week I used to go to football with the kids and do what I had to do, sit and watch 90 minutes of football...freezing my arse off..some of the other "wags" were ok, some were fucking bitches, it was at the time when alot of the bigger players had to sign for lower devisions and with them came there wife's or girlfriends that were just plain horrible to you, there was a group in particular at QPR years ago and I used to call them the sofa slut crew as every week they took up the best seat ( the sofa) in the players bar looking around turning the rest of us to stone with whispers and snide comments...one week I had enough and took the lot of them on, I got there before them plonking my size 12 arse straight on there patch waiting for them to bowl in and see there seat had been taken..I was extremely happy with myself but it was short lived as when the sofa slut crew arrived they didn't bat an eyelid and basically just sat next to me extentions flapping in my face and ignored me...they were twats anyway, one girl in particular was a fucking twat and we nearly came to blows on many an occasion..the bullshit this girl used to come out with was unbelievable...stuff like she had been on a helicopter that morning????? What the fuck are you talking about woman?! Were in west London???????? And her mates used to go along with it...asking question about this helicopter?! COME ON!? Really??? A helicopter?! Eventually the girls dwindled away as there fellas moved clubs so the girls left...thank fuck..no love lost there?!, I then took over that sofa which did me no favours at all, as it was the perfect excuse to stay inside have a drink and watch the match on the TV, Marc used to come up from the changing room on many an occasion to his wife laying down on the sofa, legs rested on the arms having intimate chats with the bar staff or the toilet attendants...hed shake his head and ask if id seen his goal and id just dribble and nod...thinking whats a goal?! I blame the sofa as i think it had magic powers, I loved my time at QPR as much as Marc did though, for different reason to marc but i still loved it,I haven't been there for ages but will return soon...ive heard they haven't got that players bar anymore so I'll have to do the proper football thing and watch this time, outside, like all the normal people, may even bring my own sofa? May even start my own my sofa crew? Who knows? Either way If you see me buy me a drink and I might let you join me on it?!

When drink turns bad....

Being drunk has it's up and downs for me....the plus is I get very excitable, happy and child like and have done some really drunk funny things..things that are light hearted and funny...things like maybe...doing a caterpillar outside the cab rank? rapping at the karaoke night? Dressing up in stupid clothes and going down the road for a chinese..Nothing bad..just innocent banter... On the down side I have been a fucking pest...In my drunken days I have fallen asleep in clubs, thrown up on all fours on the red carpet, hit someone over the head with there clipboard as I was refused entry to there club, woke up at 10am in oxford circus in a pile of bins, I've even gone outside a pub to talk to someone and walked back into the wrong pub..thinking everyone had left me? I'm a pest....but nothing can top this disgracful event, in all my years of drunk shivers this was the worse.. I had recently moved to what I would concider the county..( Hemel Hempstead) because Marc had left Millwall and had signed to QPR ,coming from South east London this was out of my comfort zone and I was struggling with the area, the schools and everyone that lived there.. So I was over the moon when I made friends with a local girl called Sharon from the school as she seemed like she was on my level...so when she invited me out with a few of her other Hemel chums I jumped at the chance... I remember the night well and I necked a couple of wines before meeting her at the pub with her friends who all seemed ok? A bit mummy for me but they would do as beggers cant be choosers..We all had a laugh and was all getting on great...even though Marcs words were ringing in the back of my mind "WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T DO SHOTS"... That soon went out the window because I'm easily led and the next thing I'm doing is shots?! We moved on after the pub to a place called Jumping Jacks and there was loud music, loads of people,DJ etc.. and I started to think that Hemel wasn't the shithole that I thought it was and that it was actually ok? Granted i was pissed, but i could see a light and a possible group of new friends that were up for a laugh like me?! This next bit is awful..and if I could go back in time I would...but I can't.. Over in the corner of the bar was a group of middle aged men drinking, a couple of them really stood out to me as they had the most awful clothes on, multi coloured shirts with badges and stickers on, funny clumpy shoes and just generally odd looking, and in this one mans pocket sticking out staring at me was a set of wooden drum sticks, So me being me, and me not even thinking I said to my new school friends " do you dare me to go over and nick his drumsticks from his pocket and play the drums on his head?! " go for it they said laughing...and drunk I've side shuffled across the floor waiting to pounce on him...my moment arrived and I went one better and piggy backed him , knees wrapped around his waist fighting to get these drumsticks out of his pocket..THEN to my absoloute horror he reached inside his pocket before i could get the sticks and pulled them out and quickly extended them.........it was a fucking stick.....he was bloody blind?!!!!!! I had just jumped a blind man in the middle of a pub in front of all the people and my new school chums who were looking at me in disgust...I stood there mouth open as I watched him and his stick make a sharp exit along with all his other mates ....just as I thought it couldn't get any worse some lout shouted " at least he never fucking saw ya?!" I cried and cried and cried on that spot for ages...I was devastated!!! I phoned marc unable to breathe and all he said was... " did you do shots?" of course i said no... I carried on that night as i had cried so much that i needed more drink to get over it...but all through the night people pointed and laughed, i was famous for all the wrong fucking reasons...The mums didn't invite me out again for some reason but I did remain very good friends with sharon and me and her have had some great nights out since...but none like that night in Hemel Hempstead.. (love you Sharon Clarke) x

Kids & holidays

Today we tried booking our family Hoilday...it's always a tough one as we got the 4 kids ranging from 15 months to 14 years, all needing different things, last year we went back to the Hoilday Village in Spain taking my mum and dad to help out....I say help out but theres only one child we need help with and that's the boss...Layla...Layla is a beautiful little 4 year old girl with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes...always dressed to perfection and got a cheeky answer for everything...she's also a spoilt little cow that demands the world and controls our house and has been known on many an occasion to reduce adults to tears as she is contant in your face telling you what to do and how to do it...On Hoilday last year my dad who is a typical London cabbie dad kept checking the back of her neck...when I asked what he was doing he said he was checking for the number 666?!... he couldnt believe that a girl ( 3 yrs at the time) could control a family of 8?! That hoilday was a real eye opener for them and on many an occasion my mum would look at me and just give me one of those smiles...like how the fuck do you do this? 4 kids on a Hoilday is mad, it's enjoyable when there all off playing with new friends or asleep, but when all awake..it's fucking horrific and I challenge anyone who says different.... Last year sonny our eldest got with what I can only describe as a northern blazing squad crew...it was a mixture of kids who thought they run the Hoilday village....they run round the corridors skidding on there knees, they played knock down ginger,shouted abuse at the reps and nicked chicken nuggets from the buffet...which I thought was hilarious as we were fucking all inclusive ? Behind the blazing squad crew was Frankie our 8 year old, attached to sonny but not allowed to walk with him...and frankies new mate zac a little 6 year old that had a desire to piss in lifts and swear at all the old couples asking them when they were gonna die?! So you can imagine how our Hoilday was coming along...we spent half the evening chasing the crew around the hotel giving them warnings, threats and curfews...you try and allow them space and allow them to be like the other kids, but you know your kids and one night they managed to pull down the biggest fucking plant pot you have seen, it was the size of marc?!! So we walked the walk of shame with Frankie to reception as the whole incident was on CCTV and people were complaining...at reception we was told the bill was over £400..... I think marc heaved at this point...and then marc lands on his feet yet again...the manager came out and was a millwall fan and he let us off? Top man. Hoildays are hard work, you need a Hoilday after a Hoilday with the kids, this year my mum and dad are coming again, not as eager as last year may I add, but there coming all the same, this year I'm not gonna bother with the diet before going away as last year I was surrounded with fellow fatties..and I mean proper fatties...you got your fatties, and then you got your fatty fatties and it was brilliant, as everyone is after the same thing..cakes at 4... You'd line up, all fatties together with your plate in hand waiting...waiting for those cakes.. And they were beautiful little bastards with all cream and jam in them... Bliss...my mouth used to water and on a few occasions I nearly came to blows as fellow fatties were taking the piss and piling there plates so fucking high they couldn't see where they were going...leaving us fatties at the back of the queue with less to choose from...was not happy!! But all in all, the Hoilday Village was a success , the kids loved it and we got to eat all day Long and play bingo...what more could you want? Apart from Layla to be an angel...sonny to stop thinking he's in a street crew and Frankie to stop swearing and breaking £400 pots...never gonna happen but you can only pray that this year is going to be calmer...I fucking doubt it but you can only pray....

Fat fanny gate.....

Today was the day I was seeing the man of my dreams...The man that was going to transform a simple nip and tuck and turn me into one of those Victoria Secret things that walk like they got piles.. 4.30 at MYA was my appointment time up in London and I ordered my cab ( can't do trains as I can't focus on anything other than rucksacks and I get myself all worked up and start breathing funny) and although this morning was a bastard morning with the car refusing to start and the girls unwell and clingy I was on a thin mission.. Nothing was gonna dampen me and my fat fanny/tummy nip...you see, I've got war wounds from the kids and I want them sorted, nothing wrong with that.. The 3 C-Section scars all to be nipped into one...thus creating a flatter tum.. I Jumped in the taxi and at Brixton received a phone call telling me he's running late and did I want to re-book whatever Trevor..I'm coming!!! So eventually 2 hours later I'm in his consultant room getting out everything and telling him my sorry sob story of how I've been butchered and how all I want is to have a flatter tum blah blah... He looked at me and snarled.. Squeezed what I can only describe as a fucking large handful of belly and told me I was fat?!! Followed by...do some sit ups...followed by do you even exercise? What a fucking liberty.... Of course I don't fucking excercise?! Does it look like I do? That's why I'm here? Just suck it and nip it and bobs your uncle...but no.... I've been sent away at 10stone 7 pounds and 5.10 to lose weight..do shit loads of stomach crunchy things and then to return 3 months time and he will do my scars.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz So that's it? All that fucking research and fat fanny homework for nothing...my fanny is fat because I am fat...my belly is wobbly because I am wobbly?? It's not rocket science jadene?! It's obviously not registered yet as I've eaten a few biscuits with my cup of tea... But tomorrow I may well join a gym....or maybe not... I don't know yet...for now my surgery dream is over and I'm gonna polish off the rest of these biscuits and think about my next purpose in life... Oh yeah.. He also told me I had a hernia... Don't really know what that is but I need to get that removed ASAP... Marc is buzzing as it doesn't involve him parting with any money and he's danced out of here whistling... He's gone to watch the QPR game and he is desperate for them to win so he gets Chelsea in the next round... Marcs hate for Chelsea is so strong that when we first got married my brother was gonna buy the boys a Chelsea kit?! Marc squared up and said quite loudly that if those kits were put anywhere near those kids we was gonna divorce? And he meant it!!! I always said if marc ever cheated on me I would put a Chelsea tattoo on my arse.. I think he called me scum and walked out!!! He can't even joke about it... He hates them! Shit I've just this second received a text about going to a bootcamp in Marbella in March...that could work? A week in the sun..a few little tipples on the plane...a little run round the beach..do some sit ups by the buffet...I'm liking the sound of that miss Emily Ash...all paid for..? Why not?? That's got to be a fun way of getting a flatter tum? see...one door shuts and another one opens.... Look out Marbella... Jadene and her fat fanny crew are on there way!!!!!!!

To weave or not to weave.....

Right....so I've had a wig??? there I said it...I wasn't natural??? I had fake hair and I fucking loved it!!! I loved it when it was groomed to perfection and I can swish the bastard around in peoples faces , I loved it when I could  produce a Cheryl Cole fish plait when needed and I loved the fact that when  naked and was  positioned right I could pull off a half decent sex pose without my usual passing out as I had breathed in so much and held it as I waiting for Marc to come upstairs..... that wig had huge potential and it will be sadly missed..... SO why did I get it taken out today..and why have I gone natural...?

 Well all the above is great, but in reality the fucker is itchy,expensive and 90% of the time made me look like a battered troll ...team that battered troll look with no make up and shitty uggs I looked like an extra from Shameless on the school run and along with frightening my kids in the morning I wasn't getting any fucking coffee invites from those mitten mothers up the school...not that I would had gone but its always nice to be in the croc gang just in case I ever needed banana bread..... 

So as I sit here now I type with my new mature barnet...I have gone for a blonde bob...layered to soften my chubby face and lightened to highlight my eyes.......£100 later and a clip in my hair I leave the salon feeling naked wondering if my life is ever gonna be the same again without him,..... Mum loved it..... thats always a bad sign as shes boss eyed and Irish...Frankie turned his nose up and asked why my eyebrows were like caterpillars ( I had them dyed today as well to try and big up the hair).....and layla just snotted on me and asked why I looked like a boy.... not going too well but Marc was gonna love it as he had always moaned about the wig... he hated it, especially when it shed on his pillow and sometimes at a glance I used to think he had grown a rats tail overnight...only to look again and see it was a long bit of my weave....so the big reveal with Marc came....

"Na.... I dont like it? and what the fuck have you done to your eye brows? "

And then he ate his pie and fucked off to play football....

And that was that? 

Im not going to lower myself and abuse him as that was the old wig me... the new me is over that and all I will say on the matter is ......" I will return....bigger and better wigged up...and at some point  I will shed endless amounts of hair all over him and his pillow as he sleeps quietly in his QPR shorts.....

RIP WIGGY 2011-2012

Shitty Sundays

Before kids Sundays used to be a day of laying in bed smoking and then eating my one meal of the day ( I never ate when I was younger... Far to busy to eat) in bed.. Getting up... Bath... Curling my hair till I resembled a reject kylie M, slipping on my gazelles and puffa jacket and listening to some drum and bass... Now my Sunday's are up at a shit time , watching shit cartoons, cleaning shit off toilets and floors, cleaning the shit hole house that became a shithole when I sat down last night to drink my shitty cheap cava wine thing that marc brought home, as the kids realised I was not going anywhere once that glass was poured so smashed the house to peices whilst I lay down slagging off everyone on CBB... Wow...don't get me started on that!? So after I've cleaned all the shit away this morning I'm faced with 4 kids rucking over where there gonna eat there toast and coco pops... I say at the table...they say front room, I say if you eat nicely we can do this shit...they sling it everywhere.. I clean up shit again,,,,next is what we plan to do...I say walk the dog, cinema, even a bootsale?! Anything?? They say QPR ... not gonna battle that one... so I've been up since 5.30.. I've done all what I need to do..the house has become a shithole again whilst I was in the shower so I'm debating what time is wine o'clock.... I say today should start around 2... That way... I get though this long shitty day pissed... Next week is a good week for me, hair being done tomoz and me weave is coming out... ( I thought it would make me dance better with it in...but I ended u looking like miss piggy on speed) I'm also going to see a consultant about getting my c-section scars taken away and a bit of lipo?? Marc has not agreed to this.. But who wants a fat fanny?? I don't??? Obviously when I told the consultant my scars make me have a fat fanny ( my exact words) he looked slightly disgusted.. I mean I don't actually have a Fat fanny... I just enjoy saying fanny...it's a great word... And fat?! Well fat fanny goes don't it?? anyway... I think I'm gonna go for it as after 4 kids i don't like the war wounds that have been left... So I'll keep you posted on that one, marc is at training all week and I'm glad he still is there?! We did shit ourselves a little when Mark H came in but they get Long fine and marc doing what he does best... Talk shit at football... He's brilliant at his job, but to me... It's shit...him keeping his job is a Touch as I doubt a fat fanny op would go down to well if he had been asked to leave..... I think I'm gonna bring my wine o'clock forward by an hour.... Why not?? I'm gonna eat more shit today as it's shitty Sunday..and start my HCG diet tomoz and lose a stone before fat fanny op... Fucking love that word... Fanny ... On that note I'm off for a glass... Might blog whilst pissed later.. If not tomoz!!! Happy shitty Sunday everyone x

Have not got a clue what is happening here...

Right!! So today I'm a writer, today is the day I have actually gone and got myself a job, long gone are my days of needing and wanting to be that barmaid down my local..The oakhill pub.. So my question on starting this "job" is when's lunch.. And is it a liquid lunch? So.. A blog.... Don't really get it but I'm assuming like sex,cooking and drinking shots it only gets easier and better?? What shall my blog be about?? Well I've decided to fuck off the fashion and food blogs and just talk about me... I love talking about me as it's my most favourite thing to do? I mean I'll talk about my kids, my nutty Irish mum, my best mate Lee who has done the most outrageous things ( remind me to tell you about her shit on the M25) of course my husband of 10years Mr Marc Bircham and my dog that dry humps everything even though he has no bollocks...RIP little bollocks I shall update daily..talk how I talk every day..fill you in in as much gossip I hear and basically just have a fucking laugh?! A quick brief of ME... I'm 37... I've got 4 kids, I've been married nearly 10 years to Marc And I love to eat and drink... That's it!? Oh and I love to fucking swear...so this blog will be quite rude and not for those bastard banana bread mums that put there poor children in those ugly plastic blister things they call crocs.... I think I'm gonna get into trouble with this blog as my mouth runs away with me and I can't stop myself from speaking without thinking so I'm apologising now if anyone I upset....I'm now gonna go and have some biscuits and Chinese from last night... Work out what else I need to do for this blog and get back to my job.....

I've only gone and done it?!