sleep doth evade her

Oh dear. Under so much pressure at work lately so I did what any stressed out T-gurl would do. Spent have the night chatting online rather than getting on with my chores. Also, I wanted to try out the Mac liquid eyeliner I snapped up on the way home. I stumbled across a really handy little guide on the back of the Independent pull out (not somewhere I normally go for my fashion tips!!!)I Anyway, it reviewed a whole bundle of eye liners and the Mac caught my fancy. Lots of stylish GGs use liquid rather than a pencil but I've never gotten on with it that well.. and stuck to my set of clinique pencils. But.. hey ho...never too late to remake yourself in tiny little areas.

Had some nice chats online as well. A lovely T-girl 'S'.. who, through the magic of web land, posted up a pic just so I could see her eyes.. which were a most stunning blue. I was just bemoaning the fact that, with my green eyes, there's such a relatively limited range of eyeshades that work. Green, green, green.. as if there wasn't enough green in the world already what with the trees, grass and green grocers!
I tried out a pair of those tinted blue contacts once but - gosh - did they make my eyes bloody run. BF said I looked like a baby panda! I even asked my local doc if there was anything I could do about it. 'Yes', she said, with typical doctorly professionalism, 'Don't wear them!'
Off to work now... but wish I was heading the other way. Back to bed, ideally with a strong hunky man to wrap his arms around me.. sigh...

imperial miss

I sometimes wish ye OLde London Towne was bit more of an urban jungle. It's so polite out there.. everyone is just so darn nice.Even so, I got quite a shock this afternoon. I was wandering around the back streets of Soho when I came across some pugilists in the street.. rough tough punchy types. I told them to stop being so nasty.
They looked at me in the most horrible manner imaginable. Then one said to his mate,'Dave, it's a bloke in a dress'. Well, I was quite surprised at that. I can barely recall the last time someone had the temerity to call me by that ugly name..'Bloke'.
I waa going to deliver one of my famous imperious speeches but sometimes there is a lot to be said for economy of means. I simply said, 'Dickhead', turned on my heels and walked off with my nose in the air. Now, most of you wise T-girls will be loudly tut-tutting by now. 'Is that bloody Lucia crazy? Insulting a group of thugs and then turning her back? Is she on some sort of 80's death trip?????????' Funny you should say that but, to be more precise, it's actually a 20's death trip. I'm a flapper with a bee skull and a shrunken head in my handbag....
CUE: STRANGE EERIE MUSIC

did u catch that rain?

Oh me oh my.. did u catch that rainfall? The drops were as big as overfed goldfish. Poor Lucia.. I was in the middle of a little troll to the park. Call me a megamega-bitch but the fact remains...I luv sniffing the trees and cocking my leg on them. And should there be no trees, only the sad human debris of winos and junkies strung out on park benches, well... a gurl can't afford to fuss too much these days so I'll happily cock a leg on them instead.

So, with typical Lucia foresight I wore totally the wrong thing for my walk. Just about to head home when KABANG!! a violent thunderstorm! Even though I took my little umbrella, it was way too small to stop the rain splashing up the back of my tights and dribbling into my shoes. My skirt was soon waterlogged and in no time I found myself enduring the crushing indignity of soaking wet knickers.Eeeeeeeek! I might as well have jumped into a lake and have done with it.

C'mon you scientist boffin peeps.. when are ya gonna invent some waterproof leg wear for us all-weather T-gurls????

yakkety yak civil war yak

Hi gurls.. heyyyy.. have u ever read the truth about the English Civil war? It was a long long time ago.. so far back that crotchless thongs had barely been invented. I know most of us gurls can't think back further than our last shopping trip.. but hey.. give it a go!

The English Civil war was a war between the cruel-minded T-phobic males and the wonderfully colourful T-girl army. In the early days of the war, the T-girls kept getting soundly thrashed (which they didn't mind so awfully) but the nasty T-phobics would consign all their T-girl prisoners to their dark dank dungeons, full of slimy crawly things (urggh!!!) where designer handbags never see the light of day.

So, eventually, the T-girls had a big pow-wow and decided 'Hey, gurls.. this shit is no good!'

From that moment on, they decided to reform their fightin' bitchin' crew upon new lines. It was christened 'The New Super Model Army' and every gurl conscripted was issued with some fabulously practical Clinique make up and an adorable scent (Jean Patou's Joy?? - dream on!!). The stage was now set.

On the twelfth of never, 1645, the two armies assembled not far from the grubby little town of Nasalby. At first, the poor T-girls got hammered. Their dinky Anya Hindmarch clutch bags were simply no match for the noisy muskets and sharp edged pikes of the T-phobic troops. The left wing faded into early morning cafes to soak up a latte leaving the centre force sorely pressed. Really, gurls.. it look like it was all over for us sweet T-things. But then, a butch HPW named Brenda lost her rag and charged the T-phobic flank with a packet of freshly charged love eggs. The T-phobes panicked and broke while the rest of the New Super Model Army attacked with heels flailing and claws ripping. The day was won for us T-gals and we've never looked back since.. apart from a quick check in the mirror to make sure the skirt isn't riding up! Eeeeeeeeeeek!