I was having the most amazing weekend up until I received a text from a certain someone.
Said text was then followed up by a phone call a couple of hours later.
Now before anyone loses their $hit, I didn’t reply to his message and I hit the big red decline button the minute his name popped up on my phone.
I’m seriously starting to think the d*ckhead must have some sort of gaged radar.
OH IT LOOKS LIKE CHLOE MIGHT BE STARTING TO FEEL BETTER, LETS SWOOP IN AND $HIT ON HER AGAIN.
At this stage I’m not really sure what he’s trying to achieve.
He has no reason to contact me.
He has a girlfriend.
A girlfriend who’s vagina is obviously made of lollies and various other magical sweet treats and that’s why he feels the need to constantly tell me how fantastic she is.
It was Louise’s birthday on Wednesday so I decided to whip her up a celebratory cheesecake.
I had no qualms about it, but as always Skinny Chloe was quick to rain on Fat Chloe’s parade.
I suddenly found myself replacing 50 per cent of the cream cheese with cottage cheese and swapping condensed milk for skim milk AND SOMEHOW IT ACTUALLY TURNED OUT TO BE RATHER TASTY.
But more importantly, Louise loved it.
We then spent our Saturday night sharing a bottle of bubbles at my local (Tamsyn stayed strong as DD).
Turns out fraternising with bogans and their beards can be really good for your self esteem.
I also had a 21-year-old ask for my number on Sunday.
AND I TOTALLY GAVE IT TO HIM.
Forgive me for feeling like a little bit of a bada$$ here, but I’m two years older than him so I’ve convinced myself I’ve got some hot Mrs Robinson thing going on.
STICK THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT YOU STUPID BRITISH IMPORT.