Heyy,
Finally a night in for myself! Mr Warehouse dropped off at the pub and with my semi-healthy chicken salad kebab on stand-by I settled in for the night, feeding the hounds and getting comfy on the couch. It had been so long that I could barely contain my excitement when Mr Warehouse had said he was going to the pub and asked me for a lift. Gladly I dropped him off and anticipated an early-ish night. Mr Warehouse had joined Mr CWG for a night of laughs and lads banter at his old local in the next village over. But now I was home, as the night sky turned darker I had back to back Teen Mom UK, Teen Mom OG and all-new American Horror Story to catch up on. I was very much enjoying my overdue night in front of the box, well that was until I realised that a house is bigger than the old flat and after watching American Horror Story I promptly went around and locked all doors and windows, just in case you know ...
Soon enough though I got a message. It was legible and spelt correctly so assumed that my future husband was totally fine and had not had too much sauce. However, as I pulled up outside the pub I was greeted by a rather sobered-up Mr CWG, however, Mr Warehouse, my darling sweet boy was absolutely sozzled. Bidding farewell and with promises of seeing each other within a few hours for my birthday party/get-together the following day, I proceeded to take Mr Warehouse home for a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol with a side order of bucket-by-the-bed.
Pulling away I was met with screams as my burly bae decided that we were going to hit every car that was coming in the opposite direction. This was not the case and as I poodled down the at speed limit of thirty miles an hour, I was told that I was going "far too fast" and to "slow the fuck down". Nearly wetting myself with laughter I must admit I was barely able to keep my eyes open and on the road for how funny this all was. That was until, baring in mind that it was past midnight, I was overtaken by a motorcycle.
"OOOH HARRY YOUR A WEEEZAAARD!" I heard Mr Warehouse exclaim in the actual worst Scottish accent I have ever heard. Unable to contain the laughter, it only egged him on as he carried on shouting and yelling that "yeeer a weeezaaard Harry! A weezard!"
Squealing round every bend, twist and turn along the country roads, we finally arrived home, although not before me as the glorified taxi driver was groped and had to tell my gorgeous man off for fiddling with the radio and insisting that he played Heart FM, probably one of the worst things to listen to in the dead of night. Heading indoors we were greeted by the puppies and Mr Warehouse made a dash for the fridge, berating me that I had serviced myself in terms of getting a kebab and yet he was practically starving and wasting away! Hardly.
Slamming a chicken burger into the microwave and heading to the toilet I thought that the special bucket (originally bought I think as we really tried with the whole adulting thing and planned to use it for washing up or cleaning however was now only reserved for really special nights out whereby someone has gone in a little too hard). Heading upstairs it was only a matter of moments before I was being preached too about the warnings of alcohol abuse and how Mr Warehouse "will never drink again", shortly followed by some long stints hanging out in our bathroom, blowing it from both ends the messy fuck. Least he had the special bowl with him for company as after asking if he was OK all alone in there I soon drifted off to sleep.
The following morning I was yet again awoken to Frankenstein's borderline nauseating whining and crying and bitching! Oh ma gaad! When will this dog learn I will come down, eventually. I just wanted a fucking lay-in! Attending to him at a stark 6am, only a matter of hours after I fell asleep, leaving my betrothed on the bog with his head in a bucket of his own vomit. The house was far from party-ready and I was seriously reconsidering a cancellation, maybe faking illness or something just so I could lounge about all day in my PJ's and eat cake and binge on American Horror Story, this time in the daylight so the monsters don't seem so real. Returning Frankenstein to his cage and heading back to bed myself I knew it wouldn't be long before his whimpers and cries awake me once more.
As morning broke, I greeted a very sore-headed bear downstairs and continued the war effort in order to get the place poppin' ready for some drinking and some partying. However, as 4pm rolled around, the start of the party, I realised by the number of cancellations that kept flooding through that there would only be a very select few that would actually turn up. I did, however, polish off nearly a whole bottle of Gin and shared a bottle (OK maybe shared was a strong word as it was barely half a glass) of prosecco with my Auntie, and many, many a Slimming World Syn in the sausage rolls and corn dogs - a feeble homage to my American bezzie Mrs Tweedle-Dumb who couldn't be here to share in this day a part of it!
The day itself went well and I enjoyed the company of all those bitches that could be arsed to turn up. I was spoilt too with pressies of wine and gin and Baileys Strawberries and Cream. From Miss Tweedle-Dee I received a stunning Morphe make-up Palette, along with a bottle of my fave perfume (Clean Rain if anyone is asking for Xmas!) and a super unique horror-film-inspired charm bracelet complete with Freddie, Jason and Chuckie encased in silver, and that was just to name a few. My lovely step-parents (Miss Tweedle-Dee's Mom and Dad) bought me a Pink Gin gift set, a Bathbomb advent calender and set of make-up brushes. Mr Warehouse spoilt me and showered me (literally) or maybe should I say bathed me in about ten different bath bombs, all from my fave store - LUSH, along with some HomeSense Schpoopy candles smelling like pumpkin shit and other fucking dope autumn smells (I'm twenty-eight can I use "dope" now?) and another stunning make-up palette, this time "Take me back to brazil" by BeautyBay. I was certainly spoilt and now am looking forward to counting down the last few days until I can finally say ... It's a year 'til my wedding day!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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