Life Lessons From My Step-Dog

Hiya, 

So here I am on a Monday evening following a fairly low-key weekend attempting to write for you all but being distracted by simply how cute and playful my step-pooch is. Switching between writing and playing with the 8-year-old Blonde Labrador I struggle not to feel completely overwhelmed when I look at her little face. 

The funny thing is that as I said before, she is not even my dog, not really anyway. I met Pooch when Mr. Warehouse introduced me to her in the Autumn of 2014. It was love at first sight with a friendship that would only get stronger with time. She has learnt to trust me and accept that I, along with her doggy-dad, we mean business. Over the course of the last two-and-a-half-years, the fluff-ball and I have shared secrets and plans with one another - OK mainly me telling her all my plans, secrets and surprises. But strangely she has also been there for me. In times of absolute joy as well as despair, pooch has been the one I have thought of most. When I failed my driving test she was the one I came home too disappointed to tell her. When I passed my driving exam the second time around I couldn't wait to get home if only to share in the news that our adventures would not be restricted by public transport. And when I had to make the tough decision about leaving the workplace I loved so dearly, she was the one I talked things through with. 

You see this is something that some of you might not understand and not in an ignorant way, but especially so if you have never owned a dog. I am not stupid, I get that the pup can't understand me and is just a simple animal, domesticated over years in order to satisfy the human race in many different forms. Of course the dog is not able to have deep discussions about what is the right move up the career ladder, nor what financial decisions need to be made. I would laugh if they did for I am almost certain that our entire household budget would be spent on dog-treats and balls. But on a more serious not they feel you, and what you are experiencing, far better than a cat could do. Dogs sense when their owners are ill or upset, and comfort you when feeling blue. They are always happy to see you and are something that you are solely responsible for. 

I wonder if parents feel the same way? The need to care and look after something that is so much more precious and fragile than yourself. Even though she is nearly fifty in dog years, she certainly does not let her age get her down and goes around her daily business acting as though she is still a puppy. Her little quirks and personality traits certainly makes for good company and I am forever imagining what kind of fun we could have if she was able to talk and tell me what she is really thinking instead of me commentating her little world in a deep and course male voice. I don't know why ... It just comes out like that in my head?!

It is sometimes so overwhelming I feel like crying, and I am not ashamed to say that on the odd occasion I have. I could easily watch her for years just sleeping, as a mother with her newborn, many a time choosing to gaze over Mr. Warehouse's Pup rather than watch whatever is on the box. When she is asleep she is at ease with the world and dreaming of all the wonderful things in a dogs life. Chasing cats just to play with them, millions of tennis balls and sticks I am sure litter every pup's dreams, but for our little one I am sure that eating ice-cream on a warm day, cuddling on the sofa with a film and having adventures with Mr. Warehouse and I are all at her disposal when she is in the land of nod. 

This weekend felt like a proud moment for Mr. Warehouse and I as we took the furball down to the local country park, one of many that surrounds Bedford. Down to the soft gravelly beach we went alone on the shore as the weather swelled. Entering the lake our pooch got stronger and stronger with each toss of her favourite tennis ball. The braver she got the further out she went until eventually we saw what we had waited for. Little paws paddling towards the shore. She was swimming. A proud moment considering her age and what she had been through the last few months with her Pyometra and Hysterectomy operation. I thought to myself as I looked at the little wet face in front of me, big brown eyes begging me for one more go in the cool water "There was a point I didn't think you were gonna make it pup". 

I would like to think that one day, when I have my own babies, that I would be able to look back on the beginnings of my little family with Mr. Warehouse and know that pooch, albeit playful, sleepy and bolshy all at the same time sometimes; She would have taught me all the things I need to be as a parent. Patience. Compromise. Discipline. Leadership. Ownership. Fun. Friendship. Compassion. Caring. Loving. All these life skills you have taught me pup, and I am forever grateful. Hopefully, despite your later years in life, you will be there to welcome home my babies one day and show them the same toothy smile you showed me all those many moons ago dear friend. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Breaking Down Over Breakdowns!

Bonjour, 

So after last weekend's fun and frolicking I felt as though I needed a weekend at home in my flat. With washing piling up alongside the washing up and numerous household chores to do I knew that although I should probably make some time to see my granddad, especially after recent events last weekend. 

And after a cosy Friday night and all day Saturday days lounging around on the sofa and watching crap telly with Mr. Warehouse I decided to get off me' bum and meet the Tweedle's in Bedford town centre for some Coffee and Cake. As all four of us pottered round town we became bored with window shopping and Mr. Warehouse lead us all to a wonderful little Ice-Cream Parlour in one of the many back streets and alley ways. Upon entering The Gallones Ice Cream Emporium I felt a huge pressure from all the wonderful flavours. From Salted Caramel to Blueberry Muffin I was overwhelmed by flavours, toppings and sauces not to mention the waffles and crepes. So when making my choice I felt it was only right to kick off the five-week countdown to mine and Mr. Warehouse's holiday to Lyon with a crepe, sprinkled with toffee fudge pieces, drizzled in warm caramel sauce, squirted two cream-puff flowers and blobbed two big scoops of ice-cream; One Tiramisu and the other Espresso Choc-Chip all topping a warm and folded crepe. Haha, if that isn't food porn I don't know what is! 

After indulging ourselves more than we should do before a weigh in the following morning I suggested given the fact it was raining something horrible, that we all go back to my place and warm up with some hot chocolate and a good old Disney Film. All in agreement we set off and bundled into Miss Tweedle-Dumb's little blue car. After switching on the engine and pulling off as normal there was a massive "Clunk". Stopping the car, we all got out and looked around the car. Had we blown a tyre? Had we just ran over an empty bottle that had popped? Had we hit something? Nothing seemed to be amiss, until that is Mr. Warehouse found a piece of metal in the shape of a horseshoe left in the lonely car parking space we had just vacated. Theorising that it had just come off the car there was nothing left to do but to give the little motor a thorough whizz round the multi-story. Realising that there was now a clunky, tick noise coming from the front axle every time the car turned left or right I had said that the best thing to do would be drive it back to mine, park it up and call breakdown. 

Chucking it down with rain we finally arrived at my abode and whilst my besties fretted over how they would get home and what the state of the driver would be who would come to recover them, Mr. Warehouse scaled the car for any other further damage and generally tried to look as manly as can be, which is not exactly hard given his stature. Finally admitting defeat we all scrambled inside and up the four flights of stairs to my penthouse apartment. Offering everyone teas and coffees and generally everything to warm us all up and lift our moods. Calling the breakdown company, Miss Tweedle-Dumb was told it would take anywhere between ninty-minutes and two-hours for someone to come and rescue them. Fortunately they weren't stranded on the roadside of the A6 in the pouring rain. happy for their company for a few more hours than expected we settled in for natter and some crappy background TV. But as the hours past there was still no pick up. Calling numerous times I could see Mr. Warehouse giving me the eyes as if to say he was wasting away, but with my friends almost on the brink of going home to their own dinners I put off cooking mine and Mr. Warehouse's just yet. That was until gone seven in the evening, more than three hours after Miss Tweedle-Dumb called the RAC Breakdown people. 

After much persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I decided to start cooking, asking them both constantly if they were hungry or cold or thirsty. I wanted them, like everyone who visits me at home to feel happy and content and comfortable, even if the situation is made worse by silly corporate giants with no human empathy. Soon enough the boredom kicked in and after the usual thing my friends and I do to pass the time culminating in rummaging through my sex toys, reading extracts of my teenage diaries and playing Pictionary as well as the obvious - Dancing round mops like were in Magic Mike XXL which we recently went to go and see (Absolutely incredible! Take a spare pair of knickers, you will need it after this film! Everyone must get up right now and go and see it. Man, women, dog, chicken, lamp-post, you all need to enrich your lives by seeing Channing Tatum getting down and dirty to a song that sings about the cookie monster!). 

Finally after much minute using, argument infusing, stress taking, call-centre-shouting, and near-to-tear spilling hours (nine to be precise) my little Tweedles were off home. All of our evenings wasted to some extent. But I suppose on a lighter note, we all got to spend some QT with each other and out of all of this my dear friend Miss Tweedle-Dumb can now get lots of compensation for the horrendous way she was treated and as a warning to those whom find themselves under a motorway lamp reading this in the rain as you too have broken down somewhere cold, rainy and wet - Don't buy breakdown cover with the RAC!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Viva Las Vegas!

Evening All, 

So here I am sat back in my somewhat cosy little flat on my comfy if a little worn couch writing to you once more. Last time we spoke I was discussing all the things in which I had got up to on my holiday so far. And in between stuffing my face with dinner at The Bellagio and almost being unable to walk due to sore feet from all the walking I had done I was happy to have experienced such a place as Las Vegas. Many people I have spoken to, both before going and since being back have said that it is on their bucket list of places and things and stuff to do, and with all fairness I can't say I disagree. 

Going with my best friends on a short haul holiday to budget-budget land where real life human poo's hide on the apartment stairs not belonging to anyone and getting drunk in a Scottish bar belting out Whitney Houston (True story circa Fuerteventura holiday in 2012 - My first ever with the Tweedles) are memoirs of holidays gone by in which I will cherish. However when a long haul flight is on the cards I think maybe best if I go it alone next time. Jet-lag I have now found has a very adverse effect on the relationship between friends, bringing the majority out with a mild case of the grumps and excessive tiredness being the route cause of most arguments. I have found that the best way to deal with these irritable itches is to just ignore, accept and walk away. Unfortunately no cream has been manufactured or found for treatment of friends with Jet-lag however fun days out, food and cigarettes seem to subdue those feelings of niggly-ness. 

Suffice to say though that whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were not the greatest of delights to be around twenty-four-seven (not to mention myself also ... probably) I really enjoyed the good times we did end up sharing. Like my bath I squeezed into with Miss Tweedle-Dumb only so Miss Tweedle-Dee could watch and look down on us in shame as we splashed around like Shamu at Seaworld. I also thoroughly enjoyed pretending to fall into the Grand Canyon, even if my BFF's did not find said event funny. All in all we had a good time and something to remember into our old age. Coming home though from thine bright lanterns of Las Vegas has also been very much an eye opener too. I have learnt many a thing whilst being away and through some conversations and acts I now have the knowledge to make my life a little better than before. 

Returning to work though this morning was blissful. Now you see I am one of these Work-obsessed types that enjoys all manners of my work from the Tea round to paper pushing, running errands, sorting out the post and helping reschedule works (which is actually my job as it goes). Oh as I sat in my desk at 08:54am this morning I revealed in the fact that I had missed it so much and secretly promised to my desk and chair I shall not leave them for so long next time, despite it being less than an hour before I was browsing the Internet on my phone for my next adventure; Cambodia, Bali, Vietnam, Thailand, India, China, Africa?! Where would my World Wide Web connection take me. Well not very far as I had nearly a hundred emails to catch up on but nevertheless I am looking to my next holiday soon and hopefully somewhere more exotic and further afield!

And although I am now back home in Blighty, as drizzly and as cold and as miserable as I left it I am all the better for being home on solid ground. If you would like to see all the wonderful fun things I got up to on my holiday to Sunny Las Vegas then you can check out my photo's from my trip on my Facebook profile - - - Here!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Living The American Dream!

Good Morning one and all, 

With the packing finally done and all chores completed, it seems I am finally here! Nine months in the making and I have arrived in the land of dreams and in the city that is known for all that is sinful. Ahh Yes, Las Vegas! As I sit here in the sweltering heat of the Nevada Desert, albeit slightly shaded in the resident Starbucks inside my hotel at Planet Hollywood, I am reflective of my time here so far. As I look around me at screaming winners and mournful looser's in the casino beyond my coffee table I ponder across my holiday so far and to think there is still so much to do and so little time. Seventy-Two hours I will be home in my own flat with my own bed and bathroom and no luxurious benefits of Pizza Parlours and Casinos at the bottom of my stairs! Just a front door and a shed load of mail. And whilst it will be nice to get back to civilisation, work and the boyfriend I will be sad to let go of my carefree frolics in the beating sun!

After a gruelling ten-and-something hour long flight, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee's Momma and Pappa and Brother and Miss Tweedle-Dee's Brother's friend arrived finally in Sin City. Ready and eager not to spend another minute on the plane we hurried to get out and through customs. Only problem was when we got to customs we had to await Miss Tweedle-Dumb. One minute she was by my side and the next she was being thrust into a interrogation room for questioning. Soon enough though they released her free to roam America as she so pleased. 

Cramming all seven of us into a Limousine, luggage and all we made it to our hotel in good time, planning a quick flutter and then back to the room for some much needed sleep. Overwhelmed by the view as Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I stepped into the room however and that was that - Wide awake again! Gazing out at a priceless view we all marvelled at the twinkling lights of the Las Vegas Strip. As we watched the landmarks and city sights, as if by magic the world famous Bellagio Fountains erupted into life springing from the lake like hot springs, only to come crashing down moments later in a thunderous roar. It is a sight I still look at every night and every morning and at any opportunity I can get. It is truly stunning and something I will certainly never forget. 

Our plans for an early night were scuppered at that point and our night ended with an American McDonald's, closely followed by some peanut butter goodies from the corner shop, Walgreens and a few episodes of 'Friends' before drifting off to the land of nod. Awaking in the morning however at the crack of dawn Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed out into the twenty-two degree heat wave sweeping the strip to begin our holiday. Las vegas is incredible. So far I and the girls have gone to Caesars Palace, Excalibur, MGM, Luxor, Stratosphere and more as well as our own hotel many a time, Planet Hollywood. 

Thursday was our first full day there and to celebrate, in between gambling and hemorrhaging money like its no-body's business we found out that British born DJ Calvin Harris was opening a new nightclub in town. With nothing else better to do we all grabbed s free wrist band from a club rep and headed back home to freshen up. Upon entering the nightclub though we were told not to sit down unless we paid for a booth and that our buddy 'Cal' wouldn't be on until midnight to 1am. With the prospect of four-hours waiting before the party got going my two best-friends decided to head back to the hotel. Disappointed but unwilling to compromise of such a night out I stayed behind and awaited the banging tunes to start. Soon enough I got a glimpse of the star and whilst the tickets in were free and atmosphere for the most part was OK, knowing that the girls really didn't want to stay and were not by my side for our first official night in paradise was saddening to say the least. I really wanted them to come out and live life as a party. I think maybe I need to realise that my friends whilst only a few months younger than me are certainly not the party animal I am. Sadly that's something I will just have to accept me thinks. 

On Friday, after a day of gambling and exploring the Las Vegas Strip, Miss Tweedle-Dee had booked a gig for Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I to go and see with her. The music was good, but with the venue being in the roughest part of Downtown Las Vegas and the support band being screaming Yetis (Literally!) I doubted it could get much worse. Until a little spark of an argument dawned and I my temporary hatred for them brewed to the surface of my scowling face. Although we had a lame argument, I knew that it would happen. We can't seem to have a holiday together, all three of us, without fighting over something. Whether it be a handbag someone didn't come with me to buy or the bus fare I did not have we always seem to laugh off the silly, petty niggles we all have about each other. I think we are simply all as bad as the other. 

Saturday was the night to be out and about, at least for myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb anyway as Miss Tweedle-Dee was poorly. As we approached the tallest skyscraper on the Western coast of America I realised I had made a grave mistake in saying I would go on the rides at the top of The Stratosphere Hotel and Casino. And so as Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee's brother, his friend and I hopped into the lift to the top we were giddy in the anticipation not only for the rides but also for the views of the night time strip. Exiting the elevator, all five of our party were aghast as we looked out over the City Lights of Las Vegas. And we were not even at the top yet. Settling into seats on rides such as the terrifying 'X-Scream', a teeter-totter that races a roller-coaster car off the edge of the Stratosphere tower and then suspends you there over the edge with only hydraulics and brakes to prevent your death by falling). Horrific stomach-turning ride 'Big Shot', a sword spiking out of the top of the Stratosphere tower observation deck which rockets you into the air, higher than the helicopters I might add and then plummeting you back down a further four or five times making you stomach fall out of your ass quicker than you can scream funeral directors. Last ride wasn't so bad and once you get over the initial shock of being dangled out over the edge of the tower, but even so 'Insanity' was not something to be sniffed at, especially not at over two-thousand feet in the air above Sin City. 

Yesterday was our day out and after a long, long journey Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I arrived at the seventh wonder of the world, The Grand Canyon. Whilst in all respects it was and is just a simple hole in the ground and some rather large cracks it was unbelievable and incredible to look at. On the odd occasion that we stopped for photo's the urge to pretend to slip or scream was too much to handle and we teased each other with the act of pretending to fall off the edge. As the girls allowed me to sit on a ledge and dangle my little chunky thighs off the edge I felt a sense of peace and was glad that I could now say I have done it and seen it for myself. 

Today I have gone to an exhibition about the Titanic which I am a massive fan girl of (If you can even be a fan-girl of something so heartbreakingly tragic) and whilst emotional and saddening it was also a good insight into a few little tiny things I did not already know, even if I knew most of what the post cards and billboards were saying. Room after room filled with artifacts, cutlery, plates, bowls, shoes, glasses and more all belonging to someone whom boarded the Titanic on that fateful day, April 15th 1912. Suffice to say I welled up on more than one occasion but was able to hold it together even when standing at the bottom of the iconic mahogany stair case featured in James Cameron's 1997 film starring the young Leonardo Di Caprio and Kate Winslet. 

Tonight Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I will celebrate our last few nights in style with dinner at The Bellagio (Pronounced Bell-ahh-geo; because I am posh apparently) and after a show including magic and hypnosis. And so I say farewell for next time I shall be writing to you all I will be back home in probably a very wet and cold Blighty with a epidemic case of Holiday Blues. in the mean time you can check out my photo's from my trip so far on my Facebook profile!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fifty Shades of Dismay!

Hello one and all, 

So last week was Valentines day and suffice to say that the loving nature of things came to a crashing blow mid-week. One reason being an altercation with a colleague but another was my absolute dismay at how shockingly poor the hotly anticipated blockbuster 'Fifty Shades of Grey' was. 

In 2012, admits a gut-wrenchingly messy break-up with Mr. Workaholic I took complete solace in reading the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. It seems like so long ago I struggle to remember what it was like reading them, although I know already a part of me is hesitant to return to such a dark place in my past. Those books shaped my being, gave me structure and when everything else failed helped me realise that there was life after heart-break. I soon rekindled a somewhat telephonic and long-distance relationship with Mr. Woof, (to which he has now earned his name) and in a round about way, gave me back some power and control I had since lost. Written as part of an original Twilight fan fiction I soon completely immersed myself in the world of Mr. Christian Grey and Miss Anastasia Steele. When I wasn't found drinking away my sorrows with friends of a weekend back home in Dunstable and Luton, or at sneaking out of work on a break to call Mr. Woof just to get him off, I would be found with my head in those books; escaping in any way I could from my own reality. 

I suppose in a way the concept of BDSM had always been in the back of my mind, a taboo idea reserved only for a trusting relationship of which I found myself without. But I always liked the thought of being in control and in charge. I tried it once. Once! Cast your minds back everyone to my post entitled "A Midsummer Night's Disaster!" in which I truly thought that this would be a good time to implement my inner dominatrix. Suffice to say that attempting kinky sex with a drunk man whom you do not know the name of and have brought home for the night is not a good idea at all. I think we all know the ending to that story so I shall not relive it again. Looking back now it was a step too far and one which was taken in hast with the prospect of getting over my first and possibly only true love. Needless to say that I should have been happy with the No Strings Attached heated phone-calls I received in the dead of the night from Mr. Woof. Some of them were when he was stoned. Some of them were when he was drunk. Some of them were even when he was at work himself. When I talk about it like that it seems as though he was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend. But I was as much to blame in that as Mr. Woof was. I wanted and needed attention. I was lacking it both in my job as well as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted. My honey pot of self-discovery and self-obsession. A confidence boost that extended far further than sexual gratification. Ahh yes, it was "A Dogs Life" after all. 

As for the film though I was disappointed to say the least. With the media hyping it up as they usually do with these things I tried to take it all with a pinch of salt and with a level head told myself I would judge when I had seen it not through another persons version of events and retelling. Once seated in the cinema with our sneaky snacks from outside the establishment brought in we awaited the film in high anticipation along with other eager viewers, most of them women and over the age of thirty-three. 

Rolling titles beginning it started as I had hoped and expected. the long drawn out scenes were everything that I hoped Hollywood would create. But obviously anyone whose anyone read the book in their own special way, imagining how Christian would look and what he would sound like as well as the timid Ana. I always thought of Anastasia being a brunette, yes, with an unfamiliar and uninteresting face, something you could so easily miss in the corridor to your office or in the halls at college. I never imagined her attitude being so open to such shocking and horrific mistreatment in the bedroom. Always thinking of her as a mouse and Grey as a calculated lion ready to pounce at any moment. Speaking of which, in my minds eye I saw my Christian as taller, broader, more chiselled and strangely more tanned. He had stubble for me and was more of a darker grey-eyed than anything else. 

Cinematically the colours were completely off. Far too much grey. We got the picture. Its 'Fifty Shades of Grey', we weren't expecting a bright technicolour rainbow on our screens, but neither did we expect to be sitting here wondering if this is what the world is like to dogs. Grey. Scenery was on point, not perfect but OK. Christians Apartment was what I expected from my head, as was Anastasia's flat-share with BFF Kate. Audibly I don't think they come better than Danny Elfman. The mastermind behind the music for TV Show 'The Simpsons', The award winning 'Silver Linings Playbook' starring Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper and my personal favourite of creating the brilliant theme song for 'Desperate Housewives' (God Rest In Television Peace - You are sorely missed!). 

Ahh yes, and so my film critic has come to a close. I would in all fairness urge you to go. Unless your a raging feminist and then of which probably don't go; You'll be scowling at the screen like Miss Tweedle-Dee wondering if consent was ever given or not and whether this all constitutes as rape. But that my friends is another story. All in all it wasn't the worst film. Very, very rushed, poorly made, shoddily thrown together with little nudity or sexual engagement or enlightenment yes. But not a whole waste of time. For as I left that cinema seat, another little part of my heart healed from where my first love had broken it. And all for seeing a crumby movie about bondage. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

It's Bat Country!

Hello there one and all,

I hope you are all well and that twelve days into the new year I am starting to wonder if some peoples New Years Resolutions have caved in yet. I know that mine are being stretched further and further each day. Who knew that being on time was such an effort?! Nevertheless I am thoroughly looking forward to the year ahead and in particular for events in less than eight-weeks time. I can hardly believe that my little pipe dream with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family is nearly here. It seems like only yesterday I was begging for somewhere to find the money to go and now, after working at my second job in the call centre for nearly six-months solid, listening to people moan and groan and hang-up on you I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were little-r we were obsessed with Johnny Depp. We were obsessed, watching films with even only a few seconds of his baby face in and we would coo and giggle. We all became infamous in our schools library, forever misusing our school's printer to copy reems and reems of Johnny Depp photos, sticking them everywhere from our Notebooks to our walls. We would recite lines from films and take any opportunity to turn a class project into something about J.D. Our school text books were testaments to our following, like a shrine to Mr. Depp with hopeful scrawling's of "Mrs Depp" and "Cry Baby's Baby" wishful squiggles of three girl's whom knew nothing of the world and how it worked let alone what love was and both how electrically brilliant but also earth-shatteringly devastating loving someone can be. Looking back on it, things were so different back then; everyone seemed to be richer in so many ways - Money, Friendships, Families. Life in general seems much easier as a pre-teen than as an adult. 

There was one film in particular that as thirteen-year-olds my Tweedles and I took too more than others and that film was called 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', as written by the late and great Hunter S. Thompson in the 1970's and directed by Terry Gilliam in 1998, the film follows two journalists Raoul Juke, played by Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo on a drug fuelled binge through the City of Sin, Las Vegas! As a little person this was a thrilling and exciting film, if not very adult movie to be watching at such a young age. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything and scoured the internet in my lunch breaks with my best buddies by my side looking for nuggets of film-buff knowledge to gain an understanding of Johnny Depp as both an actor and a fellow human. Johnny spent four-months living in the basement of Hunter's home in pursuit of gaining a better understanding for Hunter's mannerisms and habits so as to portray the character well. It seemed normal for us as teenage girls to do the same and as I conjured up dreams of being a starlet in front of the camera whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee directed and Miss Tweedle-Dumb wrote scripts. 

A few years ago I was given a blue, silken bound book, Inside it contained a little of what I have shared with you all today in regards to my friendship with my dearest friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Along with pictures of all my ex-lovers and hilarious moments up until I was twenty-one there was a Gem I had not seen in years. It was a story about three eighteen-year-old's on their first holiday. Destination. Las Vegas! Turns out in this story Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I all bump into Johnny Depp who invites us back to his and his Fiancées house (whom was Vanessa Paradis at the time) to look after his children (whom are now in there teens) and spend our holiday there. Eventually the story ends with the three of us permanently staying over there and I fall in love with an hot American waiter. Oh how I do love my best friends and the wishful life they bring me! Funny to think, looking back as Miss Tweedle-Dumb ticked away at the keyboard in the library and printed the tale in bold orange letters that little did we know within the next decade we would be planning for a trip to Sin City ourselves - Minus the Johnny Depp stalking and nanny duties ... And probably even that waiter dare I say!

Leaving the past behind me with fond memories I look forward now to when I finally board that plane. Goodbye cold, wet and possibly snowy Britain and hello to the Nevada Desert where the sun isn't the only thing that will be getting high. I did plan to loose some weight and get down to not only a figure I can be happy with but something that I can show off on social networking sites. "Look at me bitches! I am in Vegas whilst your at your desks! Ha! Oh is it raining outside. Not to worry myself about though as someone called Chad or Chuck is bringing me another Sex on the Beach!"  I would say as I casually upload pictures of me in swimsuits lazing by the pool and naked on a bed full of Dollar bills. Obviously there will be the traditional photo's of the Las Vegas sign and the skyline at night. I am sure that there will be many a night spent in a casino or two, drinks flowing and bottles be popping. During the day trips to the local Mall, Markets and down-town sights will be in store as well as maybe a cheeky trip out to Area 51 and the Grand Canyon. I would love to ride horse-back through the sand dunes of the Nevada but I doubt my Tweedles will be so frivolous. Everything aside, I am thoroughly looking forward to my trip and I cannot wait to spend all of what I have been saving for the past nine-months for. Roll on March mother-crackers!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fiery Frumps, Fabulous Furs and Festivities Galore!

Evening All, 

And a very Happy New Year to everyone. Hope 2015 has been treating you well and that you are all now mid-binge, scoffing chocolate and downing wine from all your Christmas/New Years Resolution-Detox. I love a good binge! But alas I have set myself some New Years Resolutions for myself for the coming year. Loosing weight never works and actually I think I am happy being a wobbly but normal looking lady. I am in no need to slim down because the man I am with finds me sexy just as I am. What a darling?! I am however cutting down on take-out and am sticking to once or twice a month at most. Secondly I plan to improve my time-keeping and not be late which will no end make my nearest and dearest happy, especially long suffering BFF's - Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Other than that though I have not much planned although I would like to travel more and maybe even learn to drive? No doubt I shall keep you informed on my going-on's as today I celebrate over two-years of writing for you all. 

One thing that New Years also does is encourage people to get out there and drink to oblivion, partying into the wee small hours and kissing strangers at the stroke of Midnight. No this is not Cinderella, it is I ... Abbey-Lou. Despite being quite pissed by the time I left my work colleagues on Christmas Eve last week and continuing the festivities well into Christmas Day and Boxing Day (Clocking up into the double figures on bottles of Rose I might add), I still felt the need to completely obliterate myself on New Years Eve. Spending the last few hours of 2014 with Mr. Warehouse and a few friends including Mr. Creepy-Warehouse-Guy himself. Starting on the Prosecco with four-hours to go I started slow but bubbles always get me wasted and very, very quickly too. Nevertheless I was slightly sozzled by the time we reached the local pub in Marston Mortaine in Bedford. 

As the evening continued I danced the night away to hits including the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and even catching the end of Mambo Number Five after being so drunk I couldn't get off the toilet. With about half hour left before the New Year Kicked in Mr. CWG suggested that beyond the children's Slide in the beer garden there were some swings. Now I love swings (Although I must stress I am no swinger although a consider-er) and upon hearing this fantastic and magical news I proceeded in platforms to discover such wonder and merriment. It was not to be found though as I soon discovered that not only was the ground soft and wet from the rain, but the grass was boggy and that it would only be a matter of time before I fell over. No sooner had I thought this I misplaced my footing and was plunged head first into a freezing cold mud pit. Tenacious through and through I stood and found my way to the swings. Cold and wet I realised that this was not one of the better ideas I had ever had and so went back to find the others and Mr. Warehouse. His face was not best pleased as I walked back through the packed public house with mud and dirt dripping from my chin to my toes.

After cleaning myself up in the toilets, finding more booze at the bar and throwing some shapes on the dance-floor I realised people were chanting. "...5...4...3...2...1..." I could hear them counting away. Realising it was finally New Year I grabbed my man and holding onto for dear life we kissed passionately before we joined a bunch of people I don't know and will never know to sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. The night concluded by me somehow getting home after falling over several more times and then being sick in Mr. Warehouse's dog's bowl. Nice! And with some recovering in the form of good food, great company and some well needed time to sober up the past few days, Mr. Warehouse and I decided to take a trip to London. 

Waking early on Sunday morning Mr. Warehouse and I struggled to not to have sex with each other as normal in the mornings let alone prise ourselves from the warmth of the bed sheets. Stepping out into the icy air I thought that it would soon warm up and after postponing for a day because of the weather already I personally was determined to do something other than lounge around and waste yet another day in front of the box. But it didn't get any warmer. In fact it only got worse. Minus-two-degrees-Celsius it got yesterday. Minus-two. Now I know to some of you in other parts of the world must have thought that this kind of temperature was normal, maybe even mild, but here in Blighty it was more than just a bit nippy. Frosty fingers and thawed thighs began to melt as Starbucks trickled down our throats, easing the missing of the first train. 

Soon enough though we were in the Big Smoke and strange as it were I was more anxious and dubious about going. It had been almost a year to the day that I had left London and my on/off relationship with Mr. Cheese and to be back was just odd. Constantly in a rush I kept feeling myself slip into the mode of Londoner whereby you want to get from 'A' to 'B' as quickly as possible. Nevertheless I really enjoyed my time with Mr. Warehouse, wandering around the sites of the City and major landmarks before heading to the Natural History Museum for some culture and to see stuffed animals, rather like a dead zoo. Now if you have not gone then I strongly suggest you do. Not only will you be walking around the Mammal section making up voices and tag lines for the lifeless soles but you will also be enthralled in the beauty of these creatures and just how spectacular life can be. 

After a few selfies with Hippopotamuses and Porpoises alike Mr. Warehouse and I headed to the luxury that is the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea to visit one of the world's most prestigious stores ... Harrods of London! Immediately stepping out onto the Winter Knightsbridge pavement, Mr. Warehouse became alarmingly aware of his surroundings and just by looking at him you could tell he was completely out of his comfort zone. Trying to make him feel at ease I thought I would start with the Pet Shop. Asking the footman on the door as to where we were in the direction of he explained that this had been closed for more than a year. Instead I marched Mr. Warehouse and I to the womenswear department. Lift doors opening my eyes nearly exploded. All I could see was fur. Mink, Rabbit, Fox, Chinchilla and Alpaca, All of it real as life itself once was for these animals. I was in fur heaven! And the best thing about all of this was not only were the clothing and accessories made with real and bonafide, quality fur; But there was a sale on! All of the top designers were there: Gucci, Prada, Dior and my favourite Valentino were all hosting their coats and jackets. Dolce and Gabbana was one of the only boutiques I actually had a proper nose around and whilst Mr. Warehouse felt like a fish out of water I needed this. I couldn't go home to a fluffy dog and I certainly didn't have the money for the four and five figure price-tags on some of these outerwear so I had to indulge myself whenever I could. 

Revelling in the luxury and hungrily running my hands over the garments made me feel happy. But my boyfriends face did not. And so sensing the shop assistant clocking that we were not here to buy and the fact that Mr. Warehouse was now tired and grumping we headed for the tube home. Unfortunately my dear lover's attention was captured by a lady at the till. Not for her stunning good looks or celebrity status, oh no! It was because she had just bought the red-dyed Mink fur cropped jacket and with a price tag more than what Mr. Warehouse earns in a year he took it completely to heart. Storming off and in a foul mood for the rest of the day until we got into bed he ranted on about this women and where her money came from, how she got it, where she spent it and what on. Nothing I did appeased him and as he ranted on about how that one item of clothing could have written off his debts more than five-times-over and how there were more deserving people of the money spent - Mainly him I figured?! He still wouldn't pipe down as we were sitting down to dinner, my treat, at Honest Burger in Kings Cross - Genuinely one of the best burgers I think you will ever have in your entire existence. If you haven't been there then go and if you have well what are you waiting for ... GO AGAIN! I think if I ever had to choose my favourite-est (yes that is a word) restaurant in the world then that would be it. With only five across the whole capital I am glad that I splurged but I just wished my boyfriend wasn't so hung up about money, especially since it wasn't even his.

Nevertheless we had a good day out and exhausted as we were we still managed to find time to fuck at the end of the day. Falling asleep in each others I whispered about how hard it is going to be not having him next to me as most if not all of the past few weeks over the Christmas and New Years break from work we have spent together, drifting off as one. I am so used to being spooned and only having to reach out for Mr. Warehouse at night, it is going to be strange not sleeping together. But alas I must oblige as the alternative of moving in with each other is far, far too soon. And besides, I like my own space and time away from him. I think it makes us stronger and better as a couple. 

Looking into 2015, I don't know what the world will bring me, but one thing is for sure, this year blogging-wise I plan to continue with my life as a twenty-something and enjoy life to its fullest keeping you all in the loop and giving you the scoop on what's hot and what's not in the world of moi! I will however be trying to shorten my tales of fun and frolics as I feel they are too long sometimes. How I do love to witter on. If however you would like me to continue writing big long essay's that fill up your coffee breaks at work and evenings in bed then feel free to message me, I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions as well as any ideas for making my life a little more interesting or what you would like me to do in 2015! Serious suggestions please I do not want to be bummed by Barack Obama nor do I want to give a hand-job to a slightly aggressive Yak. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Twas The Night Before Christmas ...

Hello and Good Evening One and All, 

Bloggers Note: As a clear explanation to those of you reading from last week, I am fully appreciative of your comments and adore how you all keep in contact with me, however I can assure you that I am, and have been fully faithful to my boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse and as the before mentioned blog post states (The Argument that was not an Argument) I merely felt the gravitational pull. I did not, nor did I in any which way intend to act on such impulses without prior discussion with my Boyfriend. Mr. Warehouse is fully aware of what happened the moment I returned to him and then again the morning after, as well as also reading it once published, but many thanks for the concern :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

So after last weekend's debauchery I was in desperate need of taking things easy and having a bit of a relaxing weekend at home, leisurely getting ready for the Christmas/New Year take-over that is to ensue over the next few weeks. I am sure though that partying my way through Saturday evening and into the wee-small hours was not what I had in mind, especially not for the venue in mind. 

After a busy day wrapping presents and journeying back and fourth between my flat and the house Mr. Warehouse shares with his mom and fluffy Labrador, I was ready for a well deserved drink - Or three. The local village pub was having a disco and with 'The X Factor' finally over for another year, myself and Mr. Warehouse succumbed to Mr. CWG's offer of a good time. Recalling the horror that was Halloween night and just how much of a flop that was my boyfriend and I were hardly expecting much more than a corny DJ belting out Michael Jackson hits and the dance-floor being emptier than a poor man's wallet. So with no other plans on the horizon I hoofed on my glad rags, assembled my eyelashes and perched myself in black heels. I was ready. Overdressed, yes. But ready all the same. 

The cold December air hit us as Mr. Warehouse and I stepped out onto the pavement. The night was clear and whilst I had two pairs of tights on I could still feel the chill. Not letting on and braving it out we headed towards the warmth of the boozer, making small talk all the way. Standing outside together as I finished my cigarette we peered through the sash windows to discover the dance-floor was bustling and the bar was busy. 'Maybe tonight will be a good night?' I thought to myself. Taking one last drag and squishing out the butt with my heels I joined Mr. Warehouse and as he always did, allowed me to walk into the place first. Making somewhat of an impression (what with bare legs and a exceedingly tight, short tartan dress) I turned to attach myself to my partner in crime. 

Getting the drinks in, Mr. CWG updated us all on a guy standing with one of his girl pals at the bar. He had arrived recently and been in the village about a fortnight (Yes it is that sort of village in which everyone knows everyone and everything). After failing to bed one of Mr. CWG's female friends, this mystery man had made his way onto a young lady I had met a few times when drinking with Mr. CWG and co. She was a local also and someone to be brutally honest with I did not warm to very much after our initial few encounters. But after hearing how scared she was and how this out-of-town douche-bag was acting towards her I thought that I would be the bigger person, putting aside my opinions and any animosity between us I made sure that I was near her and had my eye on him just in case he tried anything. Maybe tonight was the night to build bridges?!

Haha, isn't it funny how you form opinions of people when you first meet them and ninety-nine-percent of the time  you are correct. You see, not even an hour after arriving and already there was drama unfolding. It was like being in an episode of Eastenders. As I went to the toilet I found a very scared, timid and worried little person. It was the girl from earlier. Apparently the mysterious thug had been eluding to her going home with him and saying to everyone that they were an item. Despite her previously trying to defend and almost befriend the pitiful man that everyone wanted out she seemed genuinely shaken. As she held out a quivering hand and warily asked through panicked tones if the prick had gone yet I decided to start afresh and took it, telling her that everything was going to be OK. Whilst I was certainly no regular, I knew that the small village pub contained enough locals to deal with this creep and make sure he never stepped foot in the establishment again. He had already nearly upset a regular at the bar when he tried to elbow him in the face. It was taken to another level though when Mr. Warehouse got involved. Standing at the bar waiting to be served, a click was heard. Turns out the Crim had taken a photo of the owner and for some odd reason of which I still don't know this seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back. As I held the petrified girls hand in the Loo's a brawl was unfolding outside. 

Apparently my brave Mr. Warehouse asked the gentleman what he was doing taking a picture of the owner, and although this was the start of a fight, because this story is set in a small quintessential country pub I can imagine the opening lines being very British and well spoken. Without saying a word, the beastly convict stood back and squared up to my man. Even now as I retell the tale, I imagined them Peacocking before the first swipe is taken. But just as the first fist's flew, the drunkard was escorted out of the building and onto the cold concrete outside, never to be seen again. But this night was far from the end. 

As the girl and I appeared from the ladies bathroom there was a buzz about the place. I returned to my boyfriend's side only to find him agitated and lightly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I placed a soft kiss upon his cheek and I could feel the film of sweat forming as a result of the anticipated dual. As I was told the story of what I had missed I watched as the actions were played out by hand, I saw from the corner of my eye though I was watching a much better performance. With only minutes passed since I found a cowering female in the bathroom, scared for what a random stranger would do, she was now downing drinks and dancing like nothing had happened at all. It was at this point I felt my opinions wane. It was later on that my overall sentiment towards Little Miss Oscar completely faded when she knowingly pocketed my lighter. BFF's I think not! 

Continuing the night though, we were joined by another work colleague of Mr. Warehouse and Mr. CWG and his other half whom was absolutely lovely in comparison to the other ladies I had encountered that night, including a gargantuan lady who had tried several times to hit on Mr. Warehouse, both on Halloween and again at Saturday night's Disco. Not knowing anyone I took her under my wing and we became instant friends. I hope to see her again sometime as see seems really nice and someone I would love to get to know more. Dancing the night away we jived to the Macarena, The Cha Cha Slide and more Cheesey Classics reserved for Weddings and events such as this one. Drinking more and more and more, Mr. Warehouse and I noticed a certain Mr. CWG getting very, very wobbly, Watching Mr. CWG dance like a T-Rex with a shotgun wound and blowing kisses like a five-year-old was hilarious but we both knew that it would be our shoulders he was being carried home on later. And soon enough whilst having a heart to heart outside with a pub-goer, Mr. CWG stumbled through the doors and decided to prop himself up against the hard brick wall. Eventually he was slumped over it and seeing he was about to throw up I rushed to his aid, rubbing his back and making sure this time, my shoes and handbag were out the firing line. 

And so the night was concluded with a long walk home, a drunken hooligan and the promises of a double-date on the cards for me and my new found friend and our other halves. Wandering back down the country roads, listening to the birds sing in the early hours of Sunday morning I realised just how much of a good night I had. It was simple but entertainingly eventful to say the least. So if Saturday night was anything to go by then roll on the party season and get into the spirit of things because in a matter of hours ... IT'S CHRISTMAAAS!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Too Selfish for Childbearing Right Now!

Hello there everybody, 

Hope you are all well and are getting into the Holiday Spirit of things as here in Blighty it seems Christmas is well and truly on its way and with only a few more weeks to go I am struggling to contain my excitement, more-so for the giving of presents rather than the receiving, although if anyone is looking for a present to buy me, there is a little friend in Ann Summers that would make this girl very, very happy to receive! 

So after a long week at work and one I hoped would end sooner than it did, but nevertheless another week closer to some time off, good food and plenty of booze with loved ones over Christmas. Catching the train back home though is always both emotional and exciting and as I was escorted to the station by Mr. Warehouse and his puppy-dog-eyes, sad that I was not spending the usual Friday night with him, I noticed the beauty of that little green mermaid. Finally the dear lord Jesus (Whom of which does not exist but in ancient fairy-tales) answered my many Tweets and Hashtags and has blessed Bedford with a Starbucks! Not finished yet I was treated to a Hot Banana Milkshake from AMT Coffee. Now I know what you are all thinking; "Oh my goodness that sounds gross!" but actually think about how much you love milkshake and how much better it would be if you could drink it in winter and not be freezing cold afterwards. Well AMT Coffee have hit it on the head with their Milk Steamer. I had Banana (obviously) and Mr. Warehouse indulged in a Yuletide Cinnamon Creme. 

After bidding farewell to my little lost boy and heading to the platform for my train I anticipated an evening of baking, chilling out and many a laugh with my best friend Miss Tweedle-Dee. Miss Tweedle-Dumb would not be joining us in our Bake-Off plans as one she is not fanciful to a magic cookie, and two, both her and her boyfriend are going on a wonderfully Christmas-inspired Mini Break to Berlin for all the German Markets, Sausages and Beer! Jealous much? I think so. I cant complain though as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I watched some hilarious stand-up comedy and Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part II, all accompanied by some undercooked but chocolaty cookies with a little sprinkle of something special! And so the evening ensued with talks about sausages for fingers and arms that were replaced by tentacles. 

Waking in the morning I got ready and as a sleepy Miss Tweedle-Dee stole herself from her warm and incredibly comfy bed to see me out the door I joined my Grandma and cousins in what was a gloriously warm car. Saturday we were heading to Gulliver's Land in Milton Keynes for a day out with the family and what seemed to be two already very irritable boys for half-past-nine in the morning. Aged eight and four my adorable cousins made me both laugh and yell that afternoon and as I walked around a half open theme-park I realised how cold it was and that I was very silly for not bringing a coat. 

You see I enjoy spending time with my cousins because whilst they are little I find them uncontrollably funny at times, whilst at other times inconceivably stressful. I suppose in a way that is what having children is all about and in a way I am glad that I can had them over to someone else to look after when it all gets a bit too much. I love children and despite what Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb say, I feel very maternal, just maybe not towards all children. There are a very small minority that I would want to be around because they are either cute, affectionate or just simply quiet and good. Saturday evening, driving home from the theme park, I was informed that because I am my cousins boyfriend (Yes that's right you heard it correctly, I, as a female, was a four-year-old-boy's boyfriend) I could not have another one and indeed there was tears when I explained I was going to see Mr. Warehouse on Saturday night. And whilst that is all very endearing and cute, there is something very sinister about children. Something that questions whether they will put you in a home when your ninety-three or just simply put down with a sneaky trip to Dignitas in Switzerland!

I remember one of my other cousins saying to their mother as he blew out his candles on his birthday cake that they loved her face so much their wished for it to be taken off so he could carry it around in his bag all day and look at it whenever he liked. Now agreed in retrospect this is a beautifully innocent and childlike phrase for something so heart-warming it melts even the Titanic Iceberg of hearts. But if you think carefully, what the child may actually be saying is that he would much rather have his mother skinned than that of something from Lego or Action Man. I find my cousins mainly entertaining for the fact that the youngest told me that for my birthday I was going to get a castle house built in the clouds for me because I was like a princess and that he would buy a rocket ship so he could come and visit me in the sky every single day. Sweet and adorable as that is though, please don't start buying breast pumps and multi-packs of Pampers just yet, I like my own space and am far too selfish right now to be dealing with a child of ones own. Not for a good few years yet, and certainly not until I find a man who is willing to love me through anything!

As Sunday's sun streamed through the window, bleaching my face I awoke to Mr. Warehouse snoring as usual. Now to some people this may be the worst way to be roused from slumber, but for me I was just glad he was breathing for when I sleep with Miss Tweedle-Dumb a snore is usually followed by silence and then a desperate gasp of air as she forgets to breathe when she sleeps, bless her heart. Rolling over and checking the time I felt a familiar prod and so we entangled ourselves in a romantic and lusty embrace that was left unconsummated.
"Finally I got that lay in I wanted" I thought to myself as a half dressed Mr. Warehouse lovingly prepared me a cup of coffee in my favourite mug. Somehow he always seems to be able to make a good cup of 'Joe' despite never drinking the stuff. "Least he isn't a pompous tea enthusiast" I thought, sipping on warm coffee reminiscent about my weekends spent in London last Winter. 

A lazy afternoon followed with a few films sandwiched in-between wrapping presents, putting up the tree and a few stolen kisses whilst the neighbours weren't looking. There was even time to argue pettily about putting up the window lights, ending when Mr. Warehouse went off in a huff and a sulk only for a few soft pecks placed on rosy cheeks to make him smile again. It didn't take much and it made me happy in the knowledge that I could make my boyfriend smile. Sometimes though I noticed a smile and a gaze I had seen only in one other person before and that was Mr. Workaholic. Never again have I seen that look until I glance at Mr. Warehouse, usually when I will be doing something really mundane like cuddling the dog or washing up or snuggled up on the sofa. I think about that look and I know in my heart what it means, but maybe if I tell myself otherwise then it might not be true. How did that song go by WHAM! ... Once bitten, Twice Shy?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An All American Adventure!

Howdy Ya'll, 

OK so maybe not my normal introduction but I am feeling so spiffingly Stateside I might have to run down to Budgens and buy me some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and have myself a Party in the USA! Yep that's right, today the ball was set in motion and the count down can now begin officially to my once in a lifetime opportunity trip with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to fabulous Las Vegas! But this weekend wasn't all about stars and stripes, oh no, I had something bigger than Kim Kardashian's arse to contend with this weekend for it was time that said Tweedles met my thing-that's-not-a-thing ... Mr. Warehouse!

The subject came up in conversation after trying in vain all of last weekend to speak with Miss Tweedle-Dumb on the phone. After discussing a recent planned Mini-break to Berlin to visit kitsch German Christmas Markets with her boyfriend and with my envy growing at how I do not have access to such a luxury as the single life permits Bachelors to a lonely life of  misery whereby trips alone are frowned upon even by hotels - See any hotel ruling about single occupancy! Frowned upon I say! Nevertheless conversation soon lead to Mr. Warehouse and oddly I came across all coy. Now I like a good air of mystery about myself which I know for a fact I do not have as I am so god damn open about everything (I mean come on I have been spilling my life out to you every week for the last year) but strangely I quite liked Mr. Warehouse being my naughty, sordid little work-related secret. But you know since were fucking I may as well introduce him to the two people in my life that are most important to me. Ma Mama et Papa, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb!
"So. When are we going to meet him?" I was bluntly asked as I evasively avoided the questions about whether or not I was satisfied and if this satisfaction met or exceeded what I had from Mr. Cheese (Because lets be honest I don't think it would fall much beneath it?). I gave a vague idea as to sometime, maybe, possibly, if-everybody-wants-to meeting up for drinks over the weekend. With my best friend appeased and after touching on some scary gossip we ended our call. A date had been set. A time had been allocated. Four days, nineteen hours to go in counting!

Choosing a classy cocktail bar in the middle of town I thought I had picked well until that is it Saturday arrived and with it the rain. With Miss Tweedle-Dee feeling not up to it much and myself very much under the weather indeed I reluctantly but gladly changed the venue to my cosy apartment where we would sip on Rose and home-made cocktails, maybe even a cheeky Hot Chocolate with all the trimmings whilst watching the fireworks across the rooftops of Bedford from my huge skylight. Mr. Warehouse standing behind me holding my waist tightly as my best friends looked on in wonder if this was the one I had been waiting for. This however was as far from reality I think you probably could have got. I don't think even I could have predicted how entertaining and loose the evening would become and not a cocktail pineapple stick in sight!

With my girls slumped into my beloved orange couch, Miss Tweedle-Dee looking into flights to Las Vegas and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sorting out the equally important catering for the evening I suddenly got very, very nervous. Pacing the lounge I made it seem like I was nesting but I think my friends could tell I was anxious about both the arrival of Domino's and Mr. Warehouse. A few moments passed and in between British Airways hold music and discussions about meatballs (non-sexual I might add) I had a phone call. Unknown number it could only mean one thing. Pizza was here! But then I had another call - Mr. Warehouse! He was also here and as I skipped down the stairs after my Tweedles my excitement grew. Halting abruptly at the bottom of the staircase I was thrust a fist full of notes and pushed out to the poor delivery boy. 

As I opened my front door I noticed not only the bearer of feast for the evening but also a cool cucumber leaning against the Victorian brickwork of my flat's exterior. Like something straight out of 1955 dressed in denim jeans, hair a mess and a leather-esk jacket on I half imagined myself as Sandy from Grease, complete with Frenchy and Rizzo by my side. Noticing the 'Good-boy-jumper' he always wore when trying to impress me I remembered that I had guests and that since Mr. Warehouse was not my boyfriend I should not pounce on him, ravishing his lips like a horny school girl. Instead after helping Miss Tweedle-Dee for her newly acquired car keys (She recently passed her driving test last week - Well done!) I introduced him to the family. Noticing that both parties were nervous of the other ones company I proceeded to get everyone indoors and warmed up. Winter was setting in and I wasn't about to spend my Saturday Night outside when there was steaming hot takeaway on my porch table! 

With no care for dinner tables or cutlery we all dug into slices and took to establishing small talk before the conversation dried up. In a panic with what we should do or talk about Miss Tweedle-Dumb came up with a good idea of playing Cards Against Humanity to help break the ice a little. Now I don't know whether my friends were just being nice to him or if they genuinely found his answers regarding dead parents and pixalated bukkake funny but one thing is for sure and that is Mr. Warehouse has both a sickeningly good sense of humour but also a limited knowledge of all things pornographic. And so the evening ensued with a game, or five, of Cards Against Humanity whereby in-between searches on Urban Dictionary and even more glasses of wine we all ended up getting more and more comfortable with each other. And with strict instructions not to kiss me, fondle me, woo me or indeed grope me, Mr. Warehouse was doing very well considering I was now, for some odd reason, dressed in my Snow White costume (Minus the wig but with the addition of eight-inch stripper heels). I recall it was as a prize for the winner of Cards Against Humanity the person would be awarded the prize of making me do anything I asked of them. I suppose looking back on it Miss Tweedle-Dumb could have always thought outside the box with something a little more extravagantly X-rated! 

With the night slowly subduing, all four of us retired to my bedroom for a bit of a calm-down. As my friends continued in their laughter and giggles, going through weird dreams I used to have and old diary entries from a angst-ridden teenage moi, I saw in their eyes something different. Something I had never seen in them before around someone I was currently seeing. They were relaxed. At ease in Mr. Warehouse's company they thought nothing of raiding my sex-draw like crazed bears (On the hunt for what can only be described as 'My Purple Dinosaur') and stomping around my flat with the Snow White wig on like a dodgy Cher lookalike. Never before had I ever seen either of my Tweedles, My very best friends in the whole entire universe, act this way around a boy they had just met that was boning their BFF. I asked Miss Tweedle-Dumb why this was later on in the evening after Mr. Warehouse had left, enquiring as to if she liked him or not. 
"He is not a snob" Miss Tweedle-Dumb started with, adding that he "is not like all the other pompous rich arseholes you dated in the past. This one is different. He is common, and I like that".

Finally snuggled up in bed, the faint snores from Miss Tweedle-Dee in the other room as I spooned Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I thought about the evening that had just deceased. A few stolen kisses in the kitchen and when the Tweedle's were not paying attention were now not enough. I needed more. But as I reflect now on my weekend as it happened I know now what I was missing. Affection. The simplicity of having someone that wants to peck and smooch and kiss and snuggle and cuddle and nuzzle and shower you with love every waking moment until you are back in their arms asleep on their chest. I had missed that. I knew with Mr. Cheese that it was missing and for some strange reason I put up with it for so long, pretending to myself that it was OK and I would just learn to live with it. And yet I forgot how blissful it is to have it - Even if it does make you sick! 

What won't make me sick though is the amount of American food I will be consuming in Las Vegas and from now until the moment I step off that plane in the middle of the Nevada desert I shall be dreaming about eating all manner of wondrously lavish concoctions; Pancakes and Bacon, Open-All-Hours Starbucks, Captain Crunch, Donuts, Burgers, Fries and all the peanut butter flavoured shit you can think of. Book me Harley Street, I'm gonna need  gastric band when I come back!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx