First Fings First


Taking part in the social 'Firsts' blog post - #firsttotalsocial



First birthday:  Whaaaa?  I haven’t got a bloody clue. I can’t remember yesterday never mind 12 years ago.  Tch!   If I was to take a wild guess then I would think that my Mother probably tried to sell me cos she’d had a year and enough already and quite fancied the frock in the John Lewis window.  The woman drank a bottle of gin on the beaches of St Ives when she found out she was pregnant with me.  Honestly, you just can’t trust teenagers.  Nor parents.  I came into this world pissed and intend to leave the same way.  It’s why I can’t remember anything.


First memory:  Again.....Actually I remember sitting in the back seat of the car about aged 3 wearing wooly tights.  I looked down and there was a spider on my leg that was caught in the fibres and trying to get off.  I screamed my head off and got smacked on the arse for making such a drama.  Never liked spiders since.  Nor parents.

First emotional tears:  I think I was about 5 and I’d woken up early at the weekend when everyone was still sleeping.  I decided that I would help my Mummy and clean out my goldfish as it was looking a bit dirty and I didn’t like it.  I’d seen her do it before so I decided to have a go.  I caught my goldfish and put him in a nearby empty bottle.  I then set about cleaning the bowl, adding fresh water, fish fodder etc,  and when I went to put him back he was dead.  He was dead because I had left him in an empty bottle.  It was then that my true genius was realised.  I was hysterical at having killed my pet and more hysterical when my Mum flushed him down the toilet.

First movie that made me cry:  Probably Bambi.  Disney is an evil bastard. 

First book series ever read:  The Hungry Caterpillar - The Hungry Caterpillar and Friends - The Hungry Caterpillar Ate His Friends- The Hungry Caterpillar Tried To Metamorphosise But Was Too Fat - The Hungry Caterpillar Died.  Followed by The Adventures of Captain Underpants and then a selection of Stephen King horror which was tepid next to The Hungry Caterpillar.

First music I ever bought:  Tough one.  At school I dated a lad that was so into his music he bought 3 of everything so I got a free copy of whatever was out.  After school I dated a big nightclub DJ so again I got all my music for free and my best friend worked at a music store so it was probably when iTunes was invented that I actually parted with cash.

First Celebrity Poster:  That was Marilyn Monroe.   My best friend nicked all my pictures of my favourite band members cos I used to make them into swag collages.

First Favourite TV show: I dont know...probably Danger Mouse.

First Kiss:  That was Peter H.  I was 14 and I’d fancied him for ages, like 3 days.  He had olive skin and dark floppy hair and played football and was really popular.  Anyway,  One day, my friend and I were walking down the school corridor and he and his mates were sauntering up from the other end in that ‘I’m so full of testosterone’ way that teenage boys do. Obviously I looked at him and he was looking back, all confident and full of himself.  My friend jabbed me in the ribs and I squeezed her arm.  As I went to pass him by in that ‘I’m so not bovvered’ way that teenage girls do, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the lockers.  

“Wanna go out wiv me?”  He said.  

“K then.“ I shrugged.

“Wot you got last period?” 

“Chemistry”  I replied, nonchalantly. 

“Meet me outside science block after.”  And off he sauntered to his gangly posse.

My friend and I were all “OMG...UGH...CAN I BORROW YOUR STRAWBERRY LIPGLOSS?” And giggly and so stupid thereafter that we were late for our chemistry lesson.  Now under normal circumstances my teacher, Dr.Fagg, didn’t care because 9 times out of 10 he threw me out of chemistry for messing about with the Bunsen burners or trying to invent new chemicals.  THIS TIME he said he was going to give me a detention for being late.  Really?  When I had to meet my new boyfriend at the end?  I had to sweet talk like hell to get out of that and this was when I first learnt how to manipulate adults.   I got let off the hook and went to meet Peter H.  We walked up the twitchell out of school and then he suddenly stopped, took hold of me and kissed me for ages. That was also the first time I learned that things happen in boys trousers when they hold you close and snog you.  

First Job:  What’s a job?  I’ve had more of these than I’ve had vodka and cokes. My first job was aged 15 when I worked on a Saturday in a hair salon and on a Sunday in a newsagent.  I also delivered free papers at night with my friend after school.  Got so pissed off with doing that that we stole a supermarket trolley, filled it with all our months worth of newspapers and dumped them in what we thought was a disused builders yard.  Turned out it wasn’t.  The yard rang the paper company, as did the people who hadn’t got their FREE paper, the paper rang my Mum....I got grounded for a disproportionate amount of time and never kissed Peter. H again. 

First Travel: I was a young girl about aged 7.  My parents and I went to Ibiza.  They shut me in my very own room and left me there whilst they disappeared to theirs and said they’d be back in a few hours for dinner. The hotel had left a free bottle of pop on my my dressing table.  “Oh, how lovely.”  I thought.   I opened it and drank it as I got ready for dinner in my long, yellow maxi dress.  My parents came to collect me for dinner and I was dancing in my bedroom.  
“Oh fuck, she’s drank the champagne!”  Said my Father.  They took me down to dinner where I promptly fell face first into it and then off my chair.  I’ve never looked back since.  Ibiza and alcohol - it’s when I first learnt to rave. 

First blog post:  I only started a blog because myself and my art teacher decided to take up Burlesque dancing and thought it would be funny to write about it.  Hence the name Julietta Jellybobble which I invented as my stage name.  This will be easy, I thought for I am a pro Latin American dancer with gold medals and all.  I will be able to dress up like a whore without reprimand and learn to dance in giant champagne glasses.  I will be like a 1950’s, posh harlot.  Turns out it was way harder than thought and dancing in 5 inch heels and basques was verging on torturous.  However, I learnt to seductively take off long gloves with my teeth, remove stockings whilst balancing on a tiny chair and not ladder them and squish my boobs into bodices that were so tight that I nearly suffocated on my own cleavage.  The novelty wore off but the blog continued as an everyday diary.  I never thought for one minute that random strangers from around the world would read it and follow me on my escapades. 




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