Beware - The Stagsden Hag!

Evening All, 

Standing in the freezing cold and blustery wind that I thought was going to take me off like Mary Poppins, my frustration and anger was growing minute by minute that we sat in the car park of our future wedding venue, Stagsden Village Hall. For weeks I had been trying to arrange an appointment whereby I could view the building again with a fresh pair of eyes and alongside my fiance Mr Warehouse after we had booked it for our special day. Finally, after some communication issues, I was told that the original lady though we had met on site the first time that we viewed The Village Hall that she has now moved on and how work commitments meant she could not dedicate enough time to the running and upkeep of the village hall and its users. 

With this in mind, I had been put in touch with another lady who assured me that she would be here. The difference was that we were not alone and accompanied also by a potential caterer who had met us on site in order to see the facilities that he would be working with in order to give us some scope for a menu. 
"This was getting ridiculous" I raged to Mr. Warehouse and the caterer as the wind howled and I stormed around the property. It was now nearly half an hour later than planned and after getting up at the crack of dawn in order to make it for my 9:30am appointment, I was seriously vexed at being seemingly stood up. All things considered, the delay would not have been a huge problem had I been alone and had not consumed 4 bottles of wine the previous evening along with Miss Hackney who had come round for gossip and to offload on the week she had. 

Fragile to say the least I had been up until about midnight drinking only to then get up early the next morning in order to drive Mr Warehouse to work at approximately 5:30am. So yes, I am sure that my patience was quite thin anyway and my temper was wearing by each minute that slipped by. 
"I could have been in bed asleep, or binge-watching craft and life hacks on YouTube, or maybe even hitting the road for a morning run?!" I fumed to my entourage. So many more things that I could be doing better than standing around waiting for someone to turn up if at all. I was constantly calling the numbers that I had for the village hall which were only one or two. When no one answered I decided to email an urgent request to the contacts I had, and again to no avail. 

Just as we had discussed with the caterer that there was to become a time where none of us could wait around all day, a large red people carrier came bungling into the gravel car park and out stepped a woman in her mid-thirties and a gentleman about ten-years-older. She asked for my name and said that she was here to set up for a party the following day. I jokingly said with a little bit of annoyance in my voice that I hoped she had a number and had prearranged an appointment since no one had actually turned up for ours. The lady and gentleman explained that they had booked the whole the following day for a party and that they were there today to set up in preparation and to collect the keys. 

It was at this point that I started to get angrier and started to wonder if something sinister had happened. Just as the caterer had come to say he was unable to stay any longer a silver sports car come whizzing into the gravel car park, nearly missing some of us standing around and pulled up to a halt outside the front door. Out popped a chirpy retiree who had mentioned "good morning". Barely being able to hold back after waiting around for nearly an hour I marched over and asked what had happened which made her late for our appointment. She scowled back at me the caterer and Mr Warehouse and proceeded to explain that our meeting was at 10:30am and she was not late. 

Taking a deep breath and mustering all I could by not wanting to smack a bitch in the face, I allowed her to open up the village hall as I explained that I was not the 10:30am appointment and that this was the poor woman and her gentleman friend behind me that had arrived on time to set up the venue. 
"Oh yes well there must have been a mistake and I do apologise but it is of course run by volunteers don't you know" was her response, to which I could handle no more. I made the gestures that we should probably rearrange a better and more suitable time that would be convenient for both of us since there was already someone setting up the hall to which the retired old hag just ushered us in and said to look around. I didn't feel comfortable and explained that the lady and gentleman in the car park had hired the hall and were clearly setting up for an event that they did not need anyone wondering around taking photos or getting in the way when they have hired and paid good money. On hearing this, however, the lady who was setting up the hall with her friend was quite sweet and had said they did not mind us walking around and taking photos if necessary as it was clear there had been a major misunderstanding. So nice! 

Accepting I walked off with my caterer in toe, dashing for the kitchen, Mr Warehouse following and maybe throwing a tut or sigh about the place as he went. However last Stagsden Village Hall is large in comparison to its other contenders we had on the list, it was no stately home and on many occasion, I kept bumping into either the lady and her gentleman friend setting up or the old bag herself. At some point, a group of two or three workmen came in to assess the state of the foyer to lay down some new flooring and then a few moments later another elderly gentleman joined the "Stagsden Hag", tinkering about with the Gas and Electric metres in the middle of the corridor. 

Frustrated beyond belief I think the woman figured that I wasn't best pleased that her and tried to stay out of my way. When it came time to leave I asked her for her mobile number so that this incident would not happen again. Yet again she ran off the bullshit spiel that this is "run by volunteers and there must have been a mistake", that was until I pulled up the email which clearly stated the date and time of which our appointment was. Now I acknowledge that as a side note I was probably a little ratty that day. A combination of very little sleep, lack of food and my bloodstream being made up of at least 30% Rose I was in a foul mood. Add in the fact that it was incredibly windy and very cold as well, all whilst I was on time (which anyone who knows me knows this is a rarity in itself) and someone else was late. I suppose in a way that I have blown this a little out of proportion but the way I see it is that I am sure I will laugh about this in years to come however at the moment I am still narked. Mr Warehouse and I left there Saturday morning, hoping against all hopes, that the "Stagsden Hag" would not be the one handing over our keys the day before our wedding next year. 

'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

Game On!

Afternoon All, 

So another week down and this week we celebrate it being less than a month until Christmas, when that big guy comes down the chimney and we all end up stuffing our faces with yummy food. And while everyone else is flapping about shopping and plans and all the rest of it, I am cool as a kumquat as I have all mine in the bag, or sack as the case may be!

After spending the working week in finance as a credit controller, my team and I have had to get a grips with the new system that has been introduced which has been difficult but I am sure that by the time we all leave for the holidays we will have mastered its workings! Only having to work a three day week helped too though as I had taken Monday off for the photo shoot and then Friday for getting my hair done. Yes, I did it. Although the results were not as expected. Nearly four hours after firstly walking into the salon in Croydon and after being charged more than expected for a colour I didn't ask for it was safe to say I was aggravated. I said strawberry blonde not strawberry jam! I was so angry and upset I decided to hit the shops for some retail therapy, hoping to improve my mood, but it was a phone-call from that compatible lover himself, Mr. Cheese. After convincing me to come by his after I had finished spending more money he left me with the classic one liner that despite the colour of my hair, I would still look gorgeous. Since I was going to a big, corporate rugby match tomorrow (I know very posh) with his flatmate and parents I felt that this would be as good time as any and so bags in toe, I made my way from south London to his place and we spent the evening together snuggled up on the sofa, blankets and all, watching David Attenborough and eating pudding mis-mash. Bliss!

Saturday morning Mr. Cheese and I spent the whole morning lounging in bed, in between snuggles, sleep and seducing one another. Highlight of the morning definitely has to be my lover pointing at my waist and ordering me - 'Off!' Oh how I do enjoy being submissive. But not all the time - I like control too! Haha. After more napping and natter we got up and made some breakfast. Super healthy seeded bread (probably made by hippies in a caravan up a mountain) with what else than lemon curd smothered into its crustiness. Mmm. Settling back into the lounge with a mug of proper coffee and some toast I knew that things couldn't be easier than right then. After a while of watching telly and munching I suddenly realised what the time was. I had less that forty-five minutes to get ready and leave. That included make-up, lashes, nails, outfit and that all dreaded fire-extinguisher mane! Thankfully the stylist on Friday had styled it so that the big curls stayed in meaning I didn't have to do much but as Mr. Cheese, his flatmate and I left for the station I felt nervous about meeting his parents again with my new hair that I wasn't that confident in. But my hair wasn't the only thing I was troubled by; My nails were unpainted, m lashes were still in their box and my face looked like my cousin had done it. I was not feeling my best. But despite this I pretended and rocked the thrown-together outfit like I was in Dior and Versace.

Upon arrival at the stadium my feet were already killing and I was hoping that I could sit for a while before mingling with the corporate box hoo-ha's. I was handed my ticket which looked very posh and I entered a world I was unaccustomed to. Doing what I think every girl does in this situation I grabbed this opportunity with both hands and simulated that I knew what it was like to do this all the time, secretly being in awe of the fancifulness of such an invite. Meeting Mr. Cheese's father in the foyer I was quickly informed by Daddy Cheese that the whole room had heard about me and my blonde hair from him. Saying nothing more we turned and walked down the plush carpeted hall to the Presidents Lounge. Taking a seat I felt as if I had been told off and was annoyed at myself for disappointing his Dad with a blonde-bombshell expectation. Nevertheless I took the afternoon in my stride and even had a brief chat with Momma Cheese about how lovely it looked. I think she was trying to be nice. It was clear I came to that event with a tomato adorning my head. As the first course of dinner arrived I looked to Mr. Cheese for conversation but obviously he was engrossed in an already heated discussion of the football matches of the day and I knew from that point it would be a battle I would not win. Instead I noticed that the man drinking Guinness across from the table from me was looking as awkward as I felt. He was the owner of a large car restoration company whom Papa Cheese knew well and had invited both him and his wife along, although his wife kept company with Momma Cheese for the majority of the afternoon and into the evening. 

Finishing the meal just in time for a few drinks we entered the chilly air surrounding the stadium and took our seats. Not wanting Mr. Cheese's flatmate to feel out of place as a third wheel I struck up conversation about himself including all those lovely all-inclusive, first class, business trip's he gets to go on. Very envious. As the game commenced Mr. Cheese showed me some appreciated public affection with some cuddles and kisses. Watching and clapping as our home team took the lead we made small talk and enjoyed the classy atmosphere. Several times after chatting to the flatmate I would feel a little tug closer to my lover's body. A little jealous of some potential competition me thinks? I found it sweet that he wanted to protect me and keep me for himself, even if we aren't specifically exclusive - Yet. After the game we all headed back inside and this was when the evening got interesting. Under the watchful gaze of Momma Cheese I was questioned by my new-found, Guinness-loving friend about my employment and my family as well as my love-life. And yet again the dreaded question came up, ''How did you guys meet?''. 

Now whenever this occurs both Mr. Cheese and I have a plan. We understand that it is more widely accepted in the day and age that people meet online, but for kids of our age we feel that there is somewhat still a taboo that exists. Unfortunately our cover story of the butterfly bridge fist date did not work and like a dog with a bone the Guinness guzzling guy pestered until I stated we met online. It was only now I realised that the whole table was looking round at us, Master Cheese included. Blushing awkwardly and seeing that Momma and Papa had noticed as well I diverted conversation to something else. After that I felt Mr. Cheese's eye's keeping a watch on me as I continued talking to the man across me from the table. It was good to have especially when some lurid and rather blatant sexual remarks were made about my chest. I was flattered even if it was from an old man getting progressively more intoxicated by 'the black stuff'. I managed those comments well though and as a result didn't need my knight in the seat just next to me, although the squeeze of my thigh after shunning his advances did make me smile. 

As the evening drew to a close I noticed I had polished off a large bottle of wine and several strong cider's. I was drunk. and despite me slowing down on the booze it was too late the damage was done. I think I held my own though and came into my own skin, chatting and laughing at ease with people I had only just met. Sober thoughts set in as I wondered about being sick. Oh dear lord I was in front of Mr. Cheese's parents! What happens if they thought I was a alcoholic that couldn't handle a few glasses and bought me AA classes for Christmas and I don't mean for breakdown cover. I think I covered it well. I didn't fall over and I didn't make a complete tit of myself. Hopefully they will invite me again sometime. Such a wonderful afternoony-evening filled with good food, great company, flowing drinks and a great game of rugby. What girl doesn't enjoy watching hunky men run around in shorts getting muddy and hugging each other! None ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Falling Out and Flying High

Hi, 

I sometimes wonder to myself why I make company with the people I do. They are very odd, permanently hilarious and sometimes a bit stroppy but nevertheless they are both a good waste of my time and an even better use to spend it. And this weekend has been no exception ...

So Thursday after work I hopped on the train with all my luggage for my weekend in Birmingham with the Tweedles and Miss Stuu and then onto London afterwards to have a photo-shoot and see my dearest Mr. Cheese I went to dinner with Miss Chocolate. Now this proved very interesting not only to discover that I have my wing-man back, but she has also rekindled an old romance, although I am sure she wouldn't call it that by a mile. Still it was entertaining to watch her waddle across the car park, screaming in agony at the fact that her lover had quiet literally left her 'walking funny'. After a ravishing conversation about sex and the in's and out's of what we both like and crave from a partner in the bedroom I finally arrived at my last destination of the evening, Miss Tweedle-Dumb's house. Waving goodbye to Miss Chocolate as she whizzed off in her little white car I took a step back in time entering Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family home. I was greeted by the dogs as well as the rest of the family before we escaped to her teen-hood bedroom to gossip and tell stories. Soon though hunger took over for my old friend and on went the coats to brace the twilight breeze. And so off to get fast food we went!

Fast it was not though. And so whilst I was lapping up my ice-cream (yes at eleven o'clock at night) Miss Tweedle-Dumb fizzled with angry-anticipation in the drivers seat and the more laughable the situation. Finally the cheeseburger Miss Tweedle-Dumb had ordered arrived. Cold. But her hunger was satisfied and her mood had improved thus no-longer hangry (By the way 'Hangy' is where you get so hungry you get angry because of a empty stomach). Settling down under the covers in my usual position on the floor of Miss Tweedle-Dumb's small room dressed in a unicorn onesie we giggled as we watched re-runs of British box sets until we fell asleep. The following morning we awoke to a call from Miss Tweedle-Dee stating that is about time we got up and ready to leave. So much for our lye-in. Well it was half-ten I suppose. I would have had half of the days work done by now if I hadn't taken the day off. After being prised from our beds we each took it in turns to shower and get ready before jumping in the car to collect Miss Tweedle-Dee and hit the road, picking up Miss Stuu along the way.

After a six hour car journey, a breakdown, several karaoke tracks, a coffee break and meeting a look-a-like boy band we had arrived at the hotel. But things were only just getting interesting. You see in the beginning of this tale it was only planned to be myself and my Tweedles and so we had booked a room for such. However after a conversation somehow, somewhere Miss Stuu ended up coming along too. Although no one thought about the fact that it was too late to change the hotel booking and even if we did it would cost us a hell of a lot more than what we originally paid. So we had only one other option, and that was to sneak Miss Stuu into our room without the hotel staff finding out. Now as successful as this was over the weekend I definitely would not be doing it again in a hurry given that it did cause some very big concerns and at times a lot of tension. Quickly unpacking we headed straight back out again. Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee went to a rock gig whilst Miss Stuu and I got to know each other a bit better over some sophisticated cocktails and boy-chat. Granted we did end up getting quiet drunk on not a lot of cocktails but nevertheless was better than spending the night in waiting for the others to come back to the hotel. Although it ended up that's exactly what we ended up doing.  Once our drinks were empty, Miss Stuu and I went back to the room and read magazines in bed until we could here the trundle of drunken stomps down the hall outside. Yes they were home ...

As Miss Stuu and I sat in bed like Mommy and Daddy Tweedle, we watched our babies wander around drunk and hanging out their arse like alcoholics at Bargain Booze. Miss Tweedle-Dumb had come home with a poster of the lead singer whom she is convinced he copied her hairstyle whereby Miss Tweedle-Dee had spent more money on a top than I had on t-shirts in the past year. Giggles and laughter descended into the night until we all fell fast asleep, only to be woken by Miss Tweedle-Dumb's horrendous snoring throughout the night, but I knew this may be the case and so had armed myself with a barrage of shoes, hairbrushes and a TV remote to use in the battle against the snore! And it would work; for a few moments; until she fell back asleep again. 

But as Saturday morning broke all of the previous night's antics were washed away as were the panda eyes as we prepared for a day of shopping in one of the countries biggest shopping malls. The Bullring! Although I was on a mission to find something nice to wear at my photo-shoot on Monday I was no-where near as determined to find an outfit as Miss Stuu for her graduation the same day. So as we trundled in and out of shops after her, looking at all the pretty dresses I couldn't help wonder what it would feel like to be pretty and skinny just for a day. To try on anything and make it look even moderately good. With her curvy bum, long legs and tight waist; Miss Stuu was definitely envied for her features and while she could have easily graduated in a bin-liner and some sticky tape, she decided on a little monochrome number from the High Street. Heading back to the hotel, feet aching from all the walking we had all done it was decided that maybe tonight we should go out and explore what Birmingham had to offer. It wasn't a mad one, simply because we were mostly skint and tired from shopping. But that isn't to say we didn't have a memorable night. Oh no! I shall be brief in saying that the night started with food and several drinks and  ended with us in fits of laughter, one of us nearly weeing and another trying to make accessories from left-over dinner. Please not that onion rings do not make good bangles.

Sunday was a lazy day and relaxed as we wandered around an Aquarium looking at fish, sharks and other sea life whilst taking selfies under the water! Very fun indeed until Miss Tweedle-Dee started a war with me over a social-networking site for articulating another side to an unfolding story which I myself had no initial involvement in, nor a belief for what had been said or asserted. After being called a homophobic disgrace for a best-friend we barely spoke the journey and it hurt me bad that Miss Tweedle-Dee of all people would think that of me; a liberally laid-back, down to earth, twenty-something female whom has no problem sharing her own sexuality and or with the expression of others. After the Sea Life Centre was done we all bundled into the car for long journey home, after which I would still need to make it into London. After a long old day and an even longer weekend I quickly dosed off in the back of the car as we hurtled south on the motorway. 

A sultry evening followed when I finally arrived in London just after half-ten at night with Mr. Cheese consisting of snoozing in bed between light kisses and whispers of sweet nothings, but not before some surprising love-making whereby my favourite foreplay made a welcome appearance that hasn't been seen since my birthday. I am glad that it is not just a Christmas and Birthday kind of thing. I'm a girl who enjoys giving as much as receiving and am happy to lay back and think of England whilst someone goes to town on me. I think with a little more practise and I could be flying higher that heaven every time Mr. Cheese works his magic. And it wasn't just foreplay. The sex matched the raunchiness that was preludes, so much so that even as I collected my stuff from his flat in West London on Monday after my photo-shoot and make over I just couldn't help but to have him one last time. Jumping on-top of him I made sure that he was given something to think about on the long tube journey to work the next morning. And the next morning. And the next. Definitely the most earth-shattering, hard, and exhausting sex I have had in a while and as we came together in a long, drawn out orgasm to finish on I can't see that Mr. Cheese would be complaining that I did so. Mmm, this leaves me anticipating the next time we meet ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Halloween Sparty

Morning All, 

I hope you are all well and dandy. I know I am, especially after the weekend I have had! Now after last week's entry I felt again a little unstable as to what, why and how of my blossoming romance with said Mr. Cheese, although I know that when the time is right maybe things will finally be planted in the pot to grow and nurture. In the mean time though I might as well carry on living my life as a half-single twenty-something; partying, hanging out with friends and family, enjoying life and seeing whats on offer. 

All week at work was a slog as usual, consisting of some very, very slow days. These however were eased by banter filled emails from my Tweedles and Mr. Cheese from their own offices across the country. Finally though Friday had arrived and as work colleagues diminished by the hours it was finally the clock hit home time. As I hitched a lift home from another work buddy I contemplated my evening ahead but most importantly what I was going to wear! Now as it has been that time of year again for most places in the world, especially the States; Halloween has been very much on my mind since me and Miss Chocolate agreed to a night out to celebrate. Dress code: Fancy dress!

So as I pottered about the flat, organising my outfit and planning my beauty schedule I couldn't help think about some of the words of wisdom have been for my first night out after things have started getting serious between me and Mr. Cheese. To be honest I have morals and whilst everyone might not agree with them they are mine and I stick by them. The phrases 'what someone doesn't know wont hurt them' and 'logically your still single so anything goes' are a frequent topic of conversation amongst my friends and I when the subject does arise and I must say that I suppose in some respect's; I agree. Whilst I have not been seeing anyone else since meeting Mr. Cheese, I suppose in a sense there is nothing stopping me from doing so, apart from the fact that I was brought me up better than that and am a very faithful, loyal and trustworthy girl. Now I am not saying that in any way it is OK to cheat as it were but the fact is that we are not in a concrete relationship means that I suppose the rules could be bent if Mr. Cheese and I wanted to bend them. I mean if the tables were turned and something happened on Mr. Cheese's side, be it a kiss or a full blown orgy, then yes of course I would be upset, but at the end of the day Mr. Cheese and I are not fully exclusive (yet) so I would really have no grounds to stand on. It would be very hypocritical to have two people playing the same game but by different rules. Regardless of all this I pushed aside my minuscule worries of round-about-infidelity to the back of my mind and donned my Little Red Riding Costume including cute pig tails, blackened Halloween eyes and wolf claw scratches I headed for the station.

Upon meeting Miss Chocolate in my hometown I realised I was possibly overdressed for the occasion. With fake blood smeared across her face and a full outfit of black topped off with a sheer white blouse I knew something had gone wrong with the school girl idea. The reason. Boobs! Apparently some people are very sadly well endowed and this means that certain items of clothing do not do up. Mainly that shirt. Unfortunately this is not the plight I have with my small to average C-Cup breasticles. Heading into the pub however the punters didn't seem to care as mouths dropped and eyes were adverted towards us. Or at least that's how it plays out in my head as I write tonight. Grabbing some drinks and necking some shots and bombs we discussed men and how much they aggravate us sometimes. As the music bounced on so did we and onto the second venue of the night. 

Heading into the small, dark alternative club under the speed-way I could see Miss Chocolate would not enjoy her experience here, whilst I however felt at home and at ease with the company in there. Among the party-goers were vampires, werewolves, zombies and bloodied people although there were some very out-there costumes. After a few moments adjusting to the atmosphere I noticed a horror movie puppet, a clown (very scary), a viking and a pirate. Throughout the female population there were broken creepy dolls, brides, nurses, skeletons, maids and cheerleaders - All dead of course. As we went to the bar to get some drinks Miss Chocolate and I made our first friends of the evening, someone named after a brand of chocolate whom I had met there before and another gentleman who looked very much like an Ex of mine whose profession lied within agriculture. Well OK, he was a farmer. 

As we clinked our glasses and toasted to being somewhat single, our newly acquired male friends looked on in awe as we slipped the smooth and fruity cocktail down our throats. High-fiving for a reason I cannot recall we sat and I struck upon with the farmer-doppelganger. He had come as a Zombie although I was not fully convinced he had made as much effort as myself. Mr. Zombie seemed nice enough and after he finished his own drink he bought me one. Smiling and saying a polite 'thank you' we headed back to Miss Chocolate who was perched on a stool not looking very impressed at the growing club of scary costumed people. As conversation progressed I soon realised that Mr. Zombie and I had nothing in common. And he laughed like Santa. And so for that reason, and the fact Miss Chocolate had bartered the time we would spend at venue number two, we left but not before I was awkwardly serenaded by Mr. Zombie to a song that spoke of being 'broken' and not being able to 'feel emotion'. Yes. I had to leave. And as Miss Chocolate and I scurried away I knew that although the night had only began, I certainly knew that Little Red Riding Hood's woodcutter was not nearby. Possibly in the Midlands?!

The following morning I woke in my own bed and still dressed in what I went out in. Little Red was feeling nearly dead with tiredness. Nevertheless I got up and dressed, tidied up and left for my spa day with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Stuu. We had wittingly called this occasion a Sparty! Although as myself and Miss Tweedle-Dee found out it was not very Sparty when you nearly sit on someone in the steam room for fault of it being too steamy! The only way we could identify said individual from the fixtures and fitting was the sheer fact that I thought ''Oooh, that bench has legs ... Oh wait! Oops!'' Indeed this could have quiet easily been an awful faux pas, but that was not the only calamity at our Sparty for Miss Stuu and I got alot closer than intended. 

Walking into our treatment room dressed in a bikini, soft fluffy robe and slippers, Miss Stuu and I were excited to be rubbed down with aromatic oils and creams to make our skin feel silky smooth and releasing all our tensions of the world. Unfortunately or fortunately my masseuse was not called Chantelle. The two massage ladies asked us to remove our pool soaked swimwear and pop on what was handed to us in a little plastic pouch. Instantly I knew what it was. Yes, there was no mistaking it as Miss Stuu looked at me in horror we agreed that these were paper panties. removing them from the packaging we giggled and laughed at the ridiculousness of them and without hesitation I stripped off to wriggle into my new briefs. And Brief they were indeed. They barely covered my biscuit and Miss Stuu had trouble keeping hers from falling down. In between fits of laughter and a shocked paper-pantie daze I hadn't noticed that the spa girls were getting impatient outside and suddenly opened the door to our treatment room where both myself and Miss Stuu were fully naked apart from our thin underwear. After apologising and shutting the door swiftly I laughed as I hopped onto the massage bed and stuck my head in the doughnut hole while Miss Stuu sheepishly followed. Safe to say that it was very relaxing and paper pants I could get used to. Although on cringe-scale I doubt this tops the Tweedles experience whereby Miss Tweedle-Dumb fell asleep she was so relaxed ended up snoring and then farted and woke herself up all the while Miss Tweedle-Dee on the other hand died of embarrassment. Sometimes you really have to question the utter brilliance of your friends!

And so that was my weekend. Sunday was relaxing as I spent it with family visiting my Grandad in hospital whilst he recovers from major heart surgery. Thankfully he pulled through and is now on the mend. Get better soon  G-Dog! As for this week nothing special is planned, except from maybe a surprise visit to London to see a certain kind of Cheese!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Not A Cloud In The Sky

Hello everyone, 

So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...

After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor. 

After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women. 

The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self. 

Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought. 

The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?

I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though,  for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time. 

I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.

All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Carrot's Can Help You See In The Dark

Evening everybody, 

Now after last week's entry I have been made aware that my twenty-second birthday is nearly upon me. Oh what an age but so far I don't think I have much to show for it apart from some very good stories and a few not so good. Haha. One story in which I have yet to share with you all. 

Now before Mr. Cheese walked onto the scene (or galloped on, with his tin-foil suit and Zebra steed intact) I was just starting out, dabbling my feet in the cold waters of dating. This was when I met Mr. Carrots. We were introduced through friends after Miss Chocolate had been befriended by him on a social networking site some months earlier. She had no qualms with me and Mr. Carrots meeting for a casual date after she said that he was far too clingy and 'try-hard'. Should have known from the beginning really?

After a few weeks of mindless chit-chat we decided to meet up in person. Mr. Carrots lived on the outskirts of Luton and I in Flitwick with Daddy and his girlfriend at the time. We agreed to meet in the town centre and to go for a couple of drinks before I continued my evening with Miss Chocolate and some old college friends. I knew that Mr. Carrots wasn't a looker but when you are single and someone shows you interest you don't turn it away, besides - Maybe it would be a grower, like mold? Thus said, this was not the case. He was not my type at all but I thought he deserved at least a chance. 

Walking up to the court-yard where we had planned to meet there was only one lone figure standing out. It was him. Mr. Carrots. Whilst on the phone to Miss Chocolate I thought that maybe I could just ditch it and do a runner. Then I got a text. He had seen me. As I hung up and nervously walked over to where he was standing there was defiantly no turning back. Mr. Carrots wasted no time in pulling me in for a bear hug and awkwardly I went in for the french double-cheek kiss which he didn't get at all and we ended up in an head-swaying competition in which we both didn't want to be entered in. Eventually we started to walk further into the town and began the small talk. Obviously forgetting the fact that I had told Mr. Carrots previously I had lived and still visited regularly Luton he began to point out buildings of significance and explain their purpose. I didn't have the heart to tell him again and so just let him waffle on.

After a short walk we arrived outside a pub I knew well. Taking me inside I watched as Mr. Carrot's face dropped to the floor and with everyone in the bar looking at us like we just kicked a cat, typical me I made a chirpy comment about getting us a table whilst he grabbed up some drinks. As I approached the table I took a moment to look around. Two women in the corner of foreign origin whom I am almost positive were waiting for the streets of the town to get dark enough so they could go out to work. The rest of the locals were men, all of them above the age of forty with a taste for beer and possibly the odd scrap. Yes. I knew this bar well, but not for the right reasons. 

It was at this point that a drunken resident stood in front of the table I had chosen and proclaimed his love for me in an heavy northern Irish accent. Still to this day my friends are amazed at how well I can pull it off. Whilst he adorned me with praise for my beauty I silently begged him to leave before Mr. Carrots arrived through an awkward smile. Finally he left and soon Mr. Carrots took his place and we proceeded with the conversation. By this point I had already felt that there was not spark, not even a click of a lighter and that sweet as he was, Mr. Carrots was not a future Beau. 

As the conversation progressed it finally was spun round to football. After about ten minutes of awkward and ideal conversing about football and the weather I was praying for a ice-breaker but I knew that even a Blue Whale couldn't break this iceberg! Then out of the corner of my eye and almost like a message from the man upstairs himself was a pint of beer placed calmly on our table. The Irish drunk was back. Secretly laughing to myself I knew form that moment this was going to be a date to remember and for the remainder of our time in that pub we were bombarded with stories of this man's childhood. In fact I found out more about this man than I did about Mr. Carrots! We learnt that this drunk had a very, very large crush on me and kept telling me how beautiful I was - But before you all start asking me out, just remember he was drunk! He explained how his father was of Scottish descendants and owed a travelling funfair that him and his twin sister (who would 'beat the crap outta ya if ya tried anything') travelled around in as children. More detail was given about his twin sibling when he described in detail their ability to know what the other is speaking and communicate telepathically. 

during the conversation with our new found friend the drunk would look into the blue eyes of Mr. Carrots and ask if he was 'starting' on him and if he 'had a problem' to which Mr. Carrots responded simply but nervously with no each and every time he was asked. Suddenly from no where he bellows out ''Carrots'' and me and my date look at each other in horror as we await an explanation. The residing drunk then argued with himself about why he kept thinking of carrots? ''Maybe I need to buy some?'' he said, to which the best reply in history came from my hum-drum date. "Maybe your twin sister is thinking of buying carrots and that is why you are thinking of carrots?!" He said jovially to our intoxicated third wheel. And there erupted my laughter for no longer could I hold it in; a mixture of pure and simple awkwardness with added dating failure made me burst out in a fit of chuckles. 

It was just after this that I realised that me and Mr. Carrots were in a battle of who-will-finish-their-drink-first. I knew that if I didn't drink the last dreg's of my wine, we would both be forced to endure the constant back and fourth of conversation between a drunken old man and an already floundering first date. As soon as I put my glass down after gulping down the warming Rose, Mr. Carrots finished his and the Irish bum asked us if we wanted a fresh one. I didn't even give Mr. Carrots a chance to answer as I chipped in and mentioned that we had places to be and had to leave. Quicker than a Cheetah on speed we both left and headed to another bar on the other side of town where we sat for a short while continuing the in-and-out conversation. After that he constantly text me asking to meet up. He even gave me the pet name 'Carrot' - Not exactly come to bed is it? 

I couldn't do it. I couldn't go on a second date with someone if it there was nothing there. So safe to say that life has somewhat mellowed out a bit since my encounter with Mr. Carrots but that doesn't mean it is no longer exciting. My date with Mr. Carrots, whilst not the best, was sadly not to be anything more than just a foot in the door. I am sure though that some day he will make some girl very happy and I genuinely wish him all the best, but unfortunately that girl is not me. Maybe I shall find someone soon? Maybe? But for now I am just enjoying life as it is; friends, family, work, social life and best of all I'm not lactose-intolerant!


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

All But Dream's ...

Hello All,

So last week I spoke of my misfortune with Mr. Suicide and the fact that my job had come to an end. I also said that maybe, just maybe things would change by the next time we spoke. And it has. Sort of ...

Yesterday I bagged myself a job. So it was a bit out the way and would mean a long journey to and from work, but I was up for a challenge and ready for a fight - Especially when they refused to let me have the job simply because I didn't drive (In which the job did not state was a requirement so HA!). After an hour and a half journey to work this morning and waking up whilst the sun was still yawning I arrived bright and early ready to start my first day's work, and I loved every second of it. Calling customers and sorting out cavity wall and loft insulation's was a breeze and I picked up everything they taught me super fast.

But when the clock struck five-o'clock and I headed out the door, that's when it all changed. After slogging it up a steady hill on a bicycle which I now hate, I watched the bus sail on past. After then realising that there were no bus stops for another few miles I puffed it out again on my wretched cycle. Arriving at a local pub and knowing that the bus would eventually stop there I sat sown on a bench, only to check the timetable and realise that buses now run every hour. I had a fifty-nine minute wait by the time the bus arrived, which it did. Late. The fugly female driver then had the audacity to say that my bike was not allowed. By this point I have had enough and hoofed it on before she could drive off. Three hours it took me to get home. Three hours. Plus the hour and a half getting to work. A grand sum of four and a half hours commute. That's more than some people's shifts. The worst part about it. For forty-five pounds for a shitty commute and long arse hours, its just not worth it. Safe to say I wont be doing that tomorrow I can tell you that!

And so here I am again. Back at square one. Still searching for that all elusive clerical role. On the plus side though I decided to throw it all away this weekend with a bit of a party! Well it started out as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I washing her car and pretending to be sexy whilst doing so on a muggy Saturday afternoon in denim hot-pants and tight white t-shirts which became see through when we ended up having a water-fight including soap-suds all being topped off by a make out sesh. Haha I'm joking. You would never see us in hot pants. Or the rest of that stuff - But a girl can dream cant she? But the fun didn't stop there - Oh No!

Feeling sad, single and under-sexed Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I came round to the subject of weddings. You would think that two young, youthful women would get excited about such an event, understandably ... But when you and your best friend are in platforms wearing nothing but a white bed sheet as a make-shift wedding dress, a net curtain as a veil and a tiara walking around the house together taking it in turn it be the bride, then maybe things have gone too far. Regardless, we laughed and giggled no amounts and she made me feel much better about myself and my situation. I cant wait until someone now gets married ... Hurry up friends! Or Prince Charming, you know, I don't mind. Either one. Which ever comes first. Ohh, did you hear that? I think I just heard all the men running away from me in horror of commitment and the freaky lady dressed in a bed-sheet wedding gown. Oh Dear! Forever alone.

This did not stop us though as Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I continued the party (Carrying on the wedding themed afternoon well into the night labelling our night on the town as our 'Wedding Reception'). However when Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb got wind that I was supposed to be going out with Miss Chocolate to celebrate her moving in later on that night they decided to make a proper night of it and join us in going all out, all together. But this wasn't before copious amount of shots and nearly being sick before we even left! Upon arrival at our nightclub of choice Miss Chocolate and I made the most of the empty dance floor whilst we could as by the end of the night, as usual, I was being 'grinded' on by a black man and being mentally undressed and seduced by someone else.

All in all though a better week than previously. Hopefully things will pick up and maybe a new job. I would say Prince Charming too but maybe that's asking for too much since I only started online dating this week. Aha a girl can only but hope!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx