Decision Time!

Well Hello There, 

How are we all doing, hope your fully recovered from your new years eve celebrations wherever in the world you may be! Hope you are having a good first few days into 2014 and enjoying what it has to bring. As for my life so far this year there have been some big changes, I have resumed working as a Credit Controller and am enjoying my first few days back. I am getting out and about viewing flats and new abodes I can begin writing to you from. But truth be told, the long dark days, horrid weather and general January blues are really taking its toll. Although there is a good reason why I should be so glum as things are a little different than when we last spoke. 

Now, New Years Eve was something I wanted to celebrate with all those I loved around me but as circumstances have it I ended up spending it in a west London pub, tears falling over my cheeks and soaked in wine. Allow me to explain. So for the past few months I have been asking The Tweedles - AKA Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb what their plans were for the New Year and what we were all going to do to celebrate it. After much deliberation there was still no conclusion and so instead of being stuck somewhere come midnight and not having anywhere to stay I decided to spend the evening with Mr. Cheese, despite the upset caused to certain individuals. After the struggles over Christmas, trying to figure out where this whole thing with Mr. Cheese is going I knew that the elephant in the room had to be confronted; And soon. 

Journeying down to London on the train I was optimistic about the evening and day that followed. I was hoping that Mr. Cheese and I would venture into the City on New Years Day and potter around a museum or something. Hopping onto the tube I made my way to Soho to meet Mr. Cheese, but as I was waiting in the rain outside in the busy streets my mood started to droop. I wasn't feeling very happy or excited. I just felt overwhelmed with the decision I would soon have to make. I knew in my heart though that whatever I was feeling right there would be melted away like snow as soon as the brilliance of the Fromage arrived. And true, it did. but kissing in the rain didn't feel as special as it should have. It should have felt better! Making our way back to the tube I was hoping that Mr. Cheese would help my mood lift. 

Upon arrival back to Mr. Cheese's west London flat, more wet and bedraggled than before we set about tidying up before settling down on the sofa for a cosy night in, softly whispering to each other how we have several hours to go until midnight. I felt for a moment and mentioned this to my date that maybe we were too old and just to go to bed to which I already knew the reply would be a stern "No." And so after feasting on restaurant take-out and wine we began to talk about memories of years gone by. I reminisced about the Tweedles and some of our first encounters of boys together and a few of the drunken teenage laughs we all had. I hoped in the back of my head they were having a good time too. Before we knew it the food had gone and our glasses were empty. Mr. Cheese and I had forty minutes of the year  left and decided to join his flat mate and her boyfriend down the road in the pub for some drinks to celebrate it properly. 

Entering the hot, stuffy bar I suddenly felt very under dressed in my flat moccasins, jeans and jumper combo. "I should have brought heels" I thought, silently begrudging myself for being ill-equipped. Even still I got some attention, although not always from the right people. Glancing at the clock as I was poured a glass of wine by the flatmate I pondered across the year before and the year ahead. Last year was very different and the year ahead, well, what will it entail? Who knows. As the clock passed midnight no-one noticed, including the DJ and so we ended up welcoming in the new year five minutes later like a bunch of unprepared school children on photo-day. Welcoming in New year I stood around, smile on my face watching everyone else kissing. For once I didn't know what to do. I know what I wanted to do. I know what I wanted to happen. But I doubted that was enough floor space for Mr. Cheese to spin me around and kiss me passionately in front of the whole pub. Eventually our eyes met and we kisses, holding each other tight as the festivities engulfed us. 

Soon the smooching subsided, I got talking to the flatmates boyfriend. I had only met him a few times, but from our encounters I had established that he was a pretty boy from up-north with a thick accent and a head to match but a lovely chap nonetheless. Not wanting to distract my attention from Mr. Cheese too much I turned back to face him. But as I slowly opened my eyes and twisted my body to meet his I felt a cold splash and a stinging sensation in my eyes. Yes. I had my first glass of wine thrown over me. Was it the angry ex-girlfriend whom apparently lives only a few blocks from the bar itself? No. Did I get caught up in an ugly fight? No. Had I been splashed by a runaway baby elephant that had sneaked into the venue and squirted his trunk at me (no pun intended). No, but close. As I had turned to face the dear Mr. Cheese he got excited about something his flatmate had said and unintentionally thrown my wine all over me. I know, and it wasn't even his. So as I stand there dazed and confused my eyes weeping with Blossom Hill and my jumper sodden I couldn't help but laugh. Mr. Cheese on the other hand was mortified. He quickly grabbed me and pulled me in close apologising for his clumsiness. I didn't care. It was an accident and I knew that, but for some odd reason I felt as if Mr. Cheese saw it as a horrible incident in which I would scream and shout at him for even attempting to make my mascara run. I didn't mind, I was just sad that my wine was being soaked up by my jumper rather than my blood-stream. 

As the night wore on and we made small talk amongst ourselves and the people around us I couldn't help but notice a tune I recognised. A song from my past. Whilst it was not hugely significant, I had been to enough DJ set's to know that the song that usually follows would be fatal to my already sodden cheeks. I made an excuse and made a dash for the exit before my ears could pick up any more music. But as I leaned against the window outside in the fresh, chilly air of 2014 my mind couldn't help hoping that Mr. Cheese would follow me outside and keep me warm. But placing a cigarette to my lips and as predicted the first chords of the song Mr. Workaholic and I shared rang out from the speakers; winding its way through the crowds, seeping into the night, poisoning my ears once more. I couldn't hold it back. I tried but as I beat off thoughts of Mr. Workaholic and the life we built together only a few years before but they were too strong. This was the song we first danced too. This was the song I first sang to him, yelling it across the dance floor as we spinned around happy to have encountered one another. This was the song that we would have our first dance to - Played acoustically and softly as we swayed with a hundred eyes on us. It was the song that ironically depicted our relationship. Almost down to the very last beat. As hot tears began to smudge my dark make-up I headed back inside in search of comfort. Finally finding Mr. Cheese at the table we were sharing I clung onto his arm for dear life, praying he would take not of the sounds that were haunting me. He did not. I curled in closer taking refuge in his torso. It was only when I explained the semantics and reasons why I was crying that he pulled me in for a brief, sharp hug. It was at this point I knew I needed more. 

Collecting our stuff after finishing another few bottles the four of us headed into the lit streets of London and made our way home. Laughing and giggling all the way Mr. Cheese and I highlighted the fact that the helium balloons I had "borrowed" from the bar should be put to good use, rather than letting them float away. Licking my lips and sucking hard I took in a deep breath. Holding it in until I was ready I spoke in a high-pitched squeaky voice. This was the first time I had tried helium. It made me light-headed after a while and for a moment I wasn't thinking about the roller-coaster evening I had. Entering once more into the flat, Mr. Cheese, his flatmate, her boyfriend and I all gathered round to watch the flatmate open her birthday presents. All were wonderful, but after all that excitement I was starting to reach my upper limit on the alcohol front and all I wanted was bed-time. Being slightly fragile both emotionally and drunkenly I felt that sex was maybe best left for the morning. Although come morning it was a very different story indeed.

Rolling over and checking the time I was alarmed to discover it was gone eleven in the morning. Gently waking Mr. Cheese from his slumber I mentioned this too him and how we had missed breakfast at our favourite cafe. I asked the simple question on what we were going to do with the rest of the day and after spending money I should be saving on a train fare to see him I was expecting to make it go a little further than just last night. Much to my disappointment that was not the case and a simple answer followed my simple question. Mr. Cheese replied by saying that he "just wanted to lounge about the flat and watch some football". It was clear his plans and mine for the first day into the New Year were very different. This got me thinking and for the next four hours I lounged in bed, mostly in silence, wondering if Mr. Cheese would ever make the move. Would he ever truly be all mine? The answer is no. Don't worry I asked. Straight-up asking him if he wanted me and only me, just us, together as boyfriend and girlfriend. His reply was the same as the first time we met - "I'm just not ready". 

Upset, angry, confused, frustrated, hurt, annoyed. Many words could describe how I am feeling both then and still now. I don't understand. If your eating Jam, should it really matter if its blackberry or strawberry, its jam all the same right? OK, maybe not the best comparison there but my heads a bit of a mess as I am sure you can imagine. And so after a solemn last supper (i.e - late lunch) we departed. Not wanting to go but knowing I had to we made the pact that we would only communicate through text messages and email until the first weekend in February when we shall meet again and see where we are both at. Since that moment there has not been a second that doesn't pass without me thinking of my dearest Mr. Cheese. But I know I need to do this. I want him and he doesn't want me so I need to distance myself from him. In my head I suppose this will make the real end much less painful. I can see us being so good together, but obviously he doesn't see this yet and I am hoping that some time apart will make him question why we aren't already an item. 

And so for the time being I shall try and keep my spirits high. Try not to worry too much about not having enough money to move. Try not to worry about work. Try not to worry about Mr. Cheese and his developing or dwindling feelings for me. I shall bounce back from this but right now I just wish that life would choose better moments than right now. Ugh! Roll on February!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Merry Ex-Mas!

Hi, 

So last week was a bit of a hilarious mess really but all in good humour as I am sure that now many of you will be wary of going to the spa for fear of Steam Room's with legs and those dreaded paper knickers. So far this week it has been quiet hard work. My partner on my account at work has recently taken ill bless him and I am now having to face some very big and very important meetings with my boss's boss to discuss our accounts in the coming days. If there is such a god, other than Google then can you please make sure that my colleague is fit an well so I don't have to flounder at the meeting tomorrow. That would be great thanks. Oh and whilst your there, going down a couple of dress sizes and up a cup size would be much appreciated! Besides stressing about my work as a financial lady I have been relatively relaxed about everything else. Since speaking to Mr. Cheese in depth about Christmas plans and being personally invited by his parents has prompted me to make a concrete plan. I plan to go with Mr. Cheese and his family up to the countryside of the North-West of England the weekend before Christmas and stay there up until the Eve whereby I shall hop on the train back home and spend the most important part of the Holidays.Christmas Eve as usual will be spent eating good food with good friends and maybe a few cheeky shots although I doubt it could beat last years escapades...

Christmas Eve 2012. This year so far I have gained a job, dealt with the difficult break-up from my beloved Prince Charming, recovered from another yet bout of Depression, gone on my first girls holiday, moved into my own place, turned twenty-one, stopped sleeping with my Ex, lost a job, moved back in with my Dad and his girlfriend, claimed benefits, got a new job and rekindled an old high-school romance. Such a busy, busy year. And yet here I am round a table in my local pub with my the Tweedles and a good friend. Miss Tweedle-Dumb has just passed her driving test and has bought a blue Vauxhall Corsa we have decided to call 'Blu Cantrell' and Miss Tweedle-Dee has got a new job working in the same company. 

I felt nervous. I knew that essentially I was in his playground. His territory. You see Mr. Workaholic could be anywhere in this modern and sleek tavern. Feeling anxious I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. As myself and my two best friends sat and chatted waiting for the final guest to arrive they asked how I would feel if I saw him. I brushed it off coolly with a shady answer and diverted the conversation swiftly. Finally our guest arrived, Miss Tweedle-Dee's Ex-Girlfriend whom she had recently befriended again after a brief spat. As we sat down Miss Tweedle-Dumb went to to the toilet whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex went to order food at the already buzzing bar. Coming back to the table their faces were ashen. They confirmed my worst fear. Mr. Workaholic was here with his sister in toe! After getting back from the little-girl's-room Miss Tweedle-Dumb confirmed the siting of not only my Ex and his sister, but also his mother and his mother's boyfriend. Trying not to panic I shrugged and simply said that we were at opposite ends of the pub and so it was fine. If several adults cannot be in the same room as each other after living together for nearly two years then I think that it's a little petulant. Nevertheless I stood from my chair to order my own food. After paying for my meal up front I noticed from the corner of my eye a tall, dark handsome man slouched across the sticky bar. No mistaking it. It was him. Mr. Workaholic!

Seating myself in good company talk soon turned to other things and just before dinner arrived I insisted they opened the presents I had saved so hard to buy them whilst not having a job. Although the excitement and joy were overshadowed by some bodies moving their half-eaten dinners to a table across from us. 'Much closer than the other side of the boozer' I thought to myself. Yep, that's right. All four of the Ex-Family had moved significantly closer to me and my friends. Getting agitated I added it to the things in the back of my head and ramped up the volume and actions. I opened my presents I had received and squealed in delight as I unwrapped the literature and nic-nac's from my Girls. Everyone was pleased and in a happy mood. As we ate food and drank more we chatted about the year that had gone and the year that was to come. I think it was safe to say it wasn't the best year of my life but I overcome some things I thought I would never be able to bounce back from and now I knew I could do anything. I could take over the world. Just as I was feeling invisible something Kryptonic arrived to dash my superpowers. It was the Ex-mother-in-law(ish). Everyone stopped eating. Jaws dropping open revealing half eaten potato and carrot. Shocked as was I we listened to her shpeal. Phrases like 'You look beautiful' and 'Oh how skinny you look, have you lost weight?' flew out of her mouth like pigeons and shat all over my parades. 

 As if the cringe-meter wasn't broken enough she then addressed my fellow dinner guests asking if they were all having a nice evening and looking forward to Christmas. Numbly they all nodded and replied quietly. As she left she said how good it was to see me and mentioned again how well I looked. Continuing our meal, myself and the girls felt very, very awkward and on-edge. Although I had a feeling that it was not the last. Finishing our meal Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I braved the fresh winter air for a cigarette and a chat about what had just happened. I felt awful for the fact that my friends had to endure my embarrassment with me and promised that we would try and make the best out of a bad situation. Walking back into the warm, bright restaurant come bar chain we soon noticed we had some new neighbours on the table adjacent to us. Yes. It had happened. Again.

As I took my seat at the head of the table so as to protect Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex from the onslaught that might follow I was approached again by said Mummy Workaholic. Again praising me for looking so good and well and loosing alot of weight since I last saw her nearly ten months ago. I felt like saying to Mr. Workaholic's interrupting mother that sometimes when people break-up with other people for no apparent reason after planning entire lives with each other and building foundations for the future sometimes you just loose your appetite for simply how sick they make you feel. After telling me of her plans to drink herself into oblivion with her cheating boyfriend, heinous son and bitchy daughter she left me and my friends to it. I don't know why she told me her plans for the night, nor the timings of these plan's either. I was never going back to her son ever again. He fucked it all up. Not me. Soon, after about an hour they all left to hit the pubs, clubs and bars of our small home-town, although I was swiftly off home to anticipate Santa's arrival on the morrow. But not before a quick death-stick and drink to settle ourselves. Whilst outside on a fag break with Miss Tweedle-Dumb we joked about when her Ex was turning up to the party. She laughed but she wasn't laughing when she returned to our table only to find the table once containing Mr. Workaholic and Company had since been replaced by her own Ex-Boyfriend and some friends I knew from college. 

You honestly couldn't make it up. At first there was one awkward moment and then there were three. I don't think any of us have laughed awkwardly so much in our lives. Still I knew then as I know now ready to publish that it would one day be a good story to tell. Here's hoping that this Christmas Eve won't be quite as eventful...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

No Parachute!

Afternoon All, 

So after another uneventful day at the office, and just over half the working week finished off I was sat on my tangerine sofa watching the telly when I get a call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Knowing that our regular yet sporadic twilight conversations usually last several hours I settled into an even comfier position on the settee. Giggling away and talking of life we gossipped about my up and coming football mini-break with Mr. Cheese and his family in Exeter at the end of next month, as well as the sexy Mr. Cheese himself and how besotted I was. As we talked of boys and inside jokes the conversation turned towards the graduation ceremony Miss Tweedle-Dumb is going to for her boyfriend. I confirmed what date it was. She told me. I didn't understand. Had she got the weekends muddled up. No she hadn't. Suddenly I felt very sick and went very quiet for I had double booked. The weekend Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had planned a girlie weekend away in the Midlands was also the same weekend I was due to be in Exeter with Mr. Cheese and the family!

Clarifying time and time again I realised that it meant one thing. Bro's? Or Hoes? Whilst I knew what  had to do I didn't like having to choose. Silly me! So after finishing the conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb I knew who I had to call next. Dialling his number at quarter to ten in the evening, I knew he would be in bed and quite possibly asleep. He answered and my heart nearly fell out of my chest with fear. Straight away I blurted out my faux pas and instantly I could tell he wasn't happy about it. The worst of it was, on top of the fact I was looking forward to my very first football game, Mr. Cheese informed me that his Dad had switched round all the bookings only recently so we could share a room together. Feeling awful and not wanting his family to hate me I confessed that I would try and fix it, although I knew in my heart I couldn't. After talking for a while we ended the conversation with the hope that by the time we all got to our desks the next morning everything would have been solved and I could do both weekends, keeping everyone somewhat happy. Morning broke and so did the news. It wasn't possible to change our booking with the Tweedles and so I had to cancel on Mr. Cheese and his sexy self!

Regardless of this less than a few hours later I was invited to spend the evening in Mr. Cheese's company. But we would not be dining alone for it was his brother's birthday and the whole family had turned out in celebration of reaching a landmark age. Rushing home from work I applied the make-up and donned a flattering outfit teamed with heels and a smart blazer. Hair styled sweetly I was ready to go just as Mr. Cheese poked his head round the door to my flat. Speeding along the country lanes in the dark I could tell that he was running behind on schedule and that he was somewhat late. Arriving back at his family home awaiting a lift from his Dad we chatted to his brothers, including the birthday boy himself. After some casual banter we jumped in the car and headed for the restaurant and although the car atmosphere was relaxed I was still scared for the unknown of meeting the family properly and so I held Mr. Cheese's hand tightly all the way there. 

Dinner was amazing and whilst I felt as if I was being watched by every pair of eyes I feel I came across confident as held my own in conversation. Most of his family I had met in fleeting moments such as his Mom, Nan and Dad, his brothers I knew a little more, except from the oldest one who ended up not coming to dinner in the end. I was asked about my profession which made me proud to say I worked in finance. OK, so slightly stretching that there but I do kind of, even if it is calling companies up asking for money as a Credit Controller. I was asked about my own family and where I lived too and I felt strong in how I came across. banter between the brothers lasted through until we left, although there was not enough room in the car so Mr. Cheese and I waited in the bar whilst his Father took the rest of the family home. Just as everyone got up from the table and said our goodbyes I noticed Grandma Cheese whispering in Mr. Cheese's ear. It was obviously something about me (probably how brilliant I was, haha) and I tried to shrink into the background whilst I intently tried to listen to the little old lady's words of wisdom to her Grandson, but to no avail. 

Sitting in the bar Mr. Cheese and I cosied up whilst talking of the adventures we would have in Cambridge the following afternoon. As time passed his Dad came to collect us and take us both home to my flat. An evening of seduction followed with snuggles and kisses galore, refereeing the fact I was falling fasted than a lead balloon. But when morning broke it wasn't as pleasant. Answering the door in my pyjamas and ruffled sex hair, squinting into the weekend sun I saw my own father with some boxes containing Christmas stuff I had asked for a few days back that I had not had a chance to move yet from my Dad's garage. Dumping it on my doorstep he left for some meetings and promised a catch-up soon. I huffed them into the house before returning to bed and a snoring Mr. Cheese. 

Saturday afternoon was spent walking around Cambridge, eating on fabulous foods such as a white chocolate crepe with fresh strawberries and banana. Not thinking it fully through we then planned to meet up with the Tweedles, Miss Lace and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend within a couple of hours for dinner. After a relaxed dinner with lots of appreciated attention from Mr. Cheese we went our separate ways and whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Lace went to see a new band, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Mr. Cheese and I headed back to the Boyfriend's for some drinks and casual chill out before heading home ourselves. All four of us connected well over conversation of graduations, holidays and sports. It was so nice to finally have someone to share my time with amongst some of my best friends and I really appreciated the effort Mr. Cheese made with the girls, something I can't ever remember Mr. Workaholic doing. Although as the cider kept flowing I soon realised that it was time to go, although stumbling to my feet I realised just how strong the cider I had been drinking was. After bidding our farewells Mr. Cheese and I boarded the night bus back to Bedford. Although slightly intoxicated I soon sobered up, especially when coach-conversation turned to 'us'!

Yet again the conversation arose whereby we discussed our feelings for one another and how much we care and like each other. I stated how I was still scared about committing fully to someone especially when we are both so young still and have a lot more of life to explore before settling down into a long term and steady relationship. But we also grappled with the fact that we feel so strongly for one another that it may not be as simple to just walk away. A situation, most defiantly. However something I had come across in which Mr. Cheese had never confided in me before was the fact that whilst things are so amazingly great right now, he wonders as to whether it would all go downhill if things became exclusive with a full blown relationship. It got me thinking admittedly, but I know in my heart this is me and I wouldn't change just because I was now something more serious. Besides, its too late now, Ive jumped from the helicopter of Singlesville and am now hurtling towards the ground with no parachute and no safety net! Fuck!

Stating my honest feelings seemed to put him at ease but as to where we stand now. Well that's something that may need some time. Good thing we have some. The next fortnight I will spend apart form my dear Mr. Cheese as we are both tied up in our own commitments such as work, friends and family not to mention football, writing and hobbies. This coming weekend Mr. Cheese is off to the Midlands to visit old Uni friends whilst I shall be partying with Miss Chocolate on Friday and Saturday relaxing by the pool in a spa with some good friends and a masseuse called Chantelle rubbing me down with oil! Ahh Bliss.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Sister's Before Mister's

Heyy Guys,

And yet another roller coaster of a week draws to a close. And yet after all that, I have been able to bounce back faster than you could say 'windscreen'. I have a new job. Again. But not just that. If you look as to where this was written you can see that it was signed, sealed and delivered from my new bachelorette pad. I am so happy that it has finally got to this point and have been so busy unpacking and sorting everything out that I nearly forgot to write. Allow me to explain my week ...

So after being a bit down in the dumps about having to quit my last job just purely on the distance I thought that my dream of finally moving in was slipping through my fingers again. Then late Wednesday afternoon I went into some local recruitment agencies and spoke to them, only to walk out of one of their offices having landed a customer service role at a windscreen replacement company just outside of Bedford town centre. Now granted it is only a temporary contract for a couple of months and so is nothing permanent by a long shot, but there is always the chance they could take me on permanently. Hopefully they will so I can stop searching for job's as it is driving me crazy just looking at pages and pages of jobs that have probably been advertised for weeks and have possibly already been filled. If not then there is always something on offer. And I do have a habit of bouncing back fast ... As I am sure you are well aware!

As for my new flat well that was a bit of a surprise. Since my Dad and his girlfriend are too hung up on their own lives and personal hobbies to help me move out (despite wanting me to move out since last year and not wholly loving the fact I was living with them in the first place) I decided to get my Uncle to help move me. And so on Saturday (the only date my Uncle could do to move me) we bundled up all my belongings in his work's van and headed to my new home! Packing and unpacking was a mission and a half though, and I don't think many people will be visiting often due to the fact it has no lifts and I'm on the third floor up four flights of stairs. I like it though. It's cosy and once I get everything sorted out properly then it will be perfect!

No word of warning on the old 'Luuurve' front yet, but I have continued online dating and am enjoying the attention from prospective males; even if they are fat, balding and are sitting at a computer having a lonely handshake with ones self. OK, well maybe not that extreme, but I love the idea that I could one day be talking to someone that will play an extra special part in my life. I haven't met any yet. Although I do plan to have a date with a very nice young man whom enjoys the company of quirky girls who enjoy laughing and chatting about nonsense but also have a fondness for dairy products, cheese included. We both seem to have hit it off pretty well and I enjoy talking to him so much so that we have arranged a 'Date' for this coming Sunday! Eeek! Scary date! I mean it's not like I am terrified of the idea. Its just scary meeting someone that theoretically you know a little of and that you have spoken online to, but it is another to meet in person and spend time together outside of cyberspace. I think that maybe this is just first-timer's nerves (Naughty!), what with being the first time I have met someone from an online dating site in the flesh - It's bound to be nerve shredding. I wonder what I shall wear? Hmmm ...

In other news, I have a big weekend planned. Along with my date on Sunday with the guy I met online, I am celebrating moving in with my good pal Miss Chocolate on Friday night and then following that up with something special for Saturday's twilight hours. I have heard that this Saturday, there will be a new show in the city of London. Starring yours truly. Ha ha. The dating show I was on a couple of months ago are having the Wrap Party in the bright lights of London. Cinderella shall go to the ball - Along with her trusty partner in crime; Miss Tweedle-Dumb!

I am looking forward to it and I know it's going to be a fun night out. Bit worried though, the last time I went on a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I met a boy whom we all know as that prick. Mr Workaholic! Then again, it might not all be bad. Miss Tweedle-Dumb could be my lucky charm in finding love. I could meet a sweetheart from across the bar and we would fall in love instantly with each other. He would worship me as a fat kid worships cake and we would get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Or I could be the last hope in hell of that sweaty nerd getting laid, lurking over there in the corner of a dark, smokey club at three in the morning like a weirdo. Yep, that is probably the story of Saturday night for you. Either that or the usual happens where Miss Tweedle-Dee and myself are dropped to our hotel by a cab and end up eating chicken until we pass out from alcohol. Still Miss Tweedle-Dee is not that bad. She can be very, very funny sometimes. Both her and Miss Tweedle-Dee can be very entertaining sometimes. Besides whats that saying. Sister's before Mister's ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

We Lost the Sheep ...

Good evening,
 
And what a good evening it is. Nearly a fortnight of beautiful weather here in the UK and hopefully it stays like that. I love how even though I love being British, somehow talking about the weather make me feel much more worthy of such a title. Over the weekend it got up to over thirty-degrees which is hotter than it was on holiday in Majorca. Anyway, enough about the weather, more about my week!
 
As with most week's I slogged it out at work just so I could make it to the weekend. And what a weekend it was. Reminded me of the good old days when your still paying for your drunken mistakes and dodgy dancing come Tuesday - Of which 'yes' I am still recovering. Now it was just meant to be some casual drinks round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house to celebrate her father's birthday but before we knew what had hit us gone was the relaxing cider on the patio sofa's and there we were on the lawn's doing shots of vodka. How on earth I was able to drink that stuff neat when I was fourteen in the park with the younger Tweedle's beats me. Its almost like drinking bleach, even when it is the premium brands. As the night progressed and the sun began to go to bed the night really started to come alive. Laughing and sharing stories began and before we knew it we had all booked a cab into the local town to hit up some pubs and clubs. As the taxi arrived outside the pub Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I hopped out followed by the girlfriends of Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers. A proper girls night out. Heading straight to the bar we all got some drinks in and started to dance with me acting as main cock-blocker of the night I knew it was going to be good fun.
 
After a couple of songs and once our bottles were empty we headed to the next bar along the High Street and again, up to the bar we went. Only as we walked in I made eye contact with Mr. Coffee's brother! Bit awkward given the last time we spoke he had just found out that Mr. Coffee and I had christened his bed for him. Not thinking any more of it I hit the dance floor with the girls whilst the Tweedle's grabbed some drinks. Sweating like a fat kid in a cake shop I knew I needed to use the little girls room and so made my way through the crowds to the bathrooms. A few minute later Miss Tweedle-Dee walks in and with a grin on her face says I have to come with her. Panicking that maybe she had found Mr. Coffee and was hoping I was going to have it out with him on the dance floor I obliged. She seemed happy though. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But as she lead me by the hand we came to the warm, muggy air outside the front of the pub. It was only now that I saw the two skinny ladies perched onto a wall, holding onto each other as they tried not to fall into the flower beds behind the wall. They had been chucked out and as a result Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were also out. Sighing we put our heads together to see what we would do next, but before we even had a chance to think properly we were told by the paralytic-drunkards that we should continue our night of mayhem. And so we headed back to the first pub we went into carry-on with the night.
 
A few hours in and I fancied some air and a cigarette so went outside. I could still see the rest of them, partying away without a care in the world. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee seemed to be enjoying herself, the one person who disagreed with our impromptu night on the tiles. Moments later I was joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who also sparked up. I mentioned that someone should go back to the girlfriends and keep an eye on them, but we could see them from where we were sitting outside so it would be fine for the time being. That was until I went back in to find them. They were no-where to be found. The bar, toilets, smoking area, even the dance floor was free from their presence. Worried I went back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to see if they were there. The girls weren't there. Worried the Tweedles and I split up doing a wrecky one last time but still nothing. We had all there identification and money as well as their mobiles so they cant have gone far. Eventually after an hour of looking round the town we decided to head home and tell Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers that we had lost their beloved girlfriends. Thankfully though by the time we reached Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the girlfriend's had been found to have made their own ways home. Realising it was too late to get a train home, Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me her bedroom floor, and whilst cramped it was gratefully appreciated more than an three-hour wait on a cold bench at the station waiting for a train that may never come.

Also this week, after searching for both an abode and affection, I seemed to have stumbled across both. Wait around for ages and then two come along at the same time, eh? Now I know your dying to know about the 'Mr.' but its super earlier days so I shall not disclose anything yet. In terms of my new bachelor pad, I sent off my application forms and paperwork today and so should hear back pretty soon as to when I can move in, hopefully before the month is out.

It is a gorgeous, old Victorian property that is huge. It used to be an old boarding house for kids from the local towns and villages attending school in the town centre of Bedford so has buckets of character and maybe even a sneaky ghost or two? My flat is on the top floor and has a slanted roof, big sash windows that look out onto the back of the property, and enough room to park a plane. My own little home sweet home. I am so excited to move in I struggle sometimes to stay in one place at a time without buzzing about the place. I cant explain it. The feeling that I get when I know something is forthcoming as big as this just fills me with joy. I can tell I am going to be very happy there! I can finally do what I like, when I like and how I like it because I wont have to answer to anyone. I can eat chocolate and crisps for dinner. I can roll out of bed when I want to on a Sunday. Hell, I can even drink milk from the carton again and run around naked - Although I wouldn't want to make the neighbours sick, so maybe I shall keep my clothes on.
 
So fingers crossed that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb will come visit me in my new home, maybe then we can have a crazy night out on the town ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Midsummer Night's Disaster!

Hi,
 
So after another week of relentless searching for that perfect abode it has beaten me yet again. I can understand why boffins say that moving into a new home is one of the most stressful things a human can do. On the up side, the weather has been great here in this part of the UK. After walking around Sunny Bedford most of Saturday Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I decided it was just too sunny to stay indoors and procrastinate and so we decided to head to the pub. To celebrate the weather, the three of us decided on a road trip and all went to Cambridge for the day, meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend. A wonderful day out in the sunshine if I do say so myself and defiantly to be repeated!
 
However it is nights like this one, hot, humid and sticky that remind me of all those many moons ago (Not that long ago actually) when I was living in Northamptonshire after my separation from Mr. Workaholic. You see when I split from my Ex, we went our separate ways. He went squealing back to Mummy and I continued, although shattered, to work in Northampton. It was during those months that I was on a regular night out with my work colleagues - A mismatch of people from all backgrounds and ages with varying degree's of humour, tolerance and intelligence. Getting dressed up I decided that for the first time ever I would go out with my legs on show and bare from tights. I wore a red dress as well which apparently shows men that the wearer is amorous, fiery and lustful. Don't know about that given how the night ended?!
 
Walking into the posh cocktail bar the group of us headed straight to the bar and got a round in and it wasn't before long I was dancing along with the rest of them, giggling at our bosses embarrassing dance-floor shapes. After coming back from outside to get some air I went back to our table, although I had noticed a new pair of eyes in the room. A tall, pale, handsome figure loomed over the other side of the bar. I smiled and thought nothing more of the innocent looking stranger. As the night continued though I couldn't help but think about him, until that is he was tapping me on the shoulder. As I turned the handsome stranger lent in and said he like my dress and thought I was very beautiful. I was flattered and completely taken aback by the fact that someone other than my pig of an Ex-boyfriend actually fancied me. I returned the complement. From there on in we spent the next few moment complementing each others persona. Mr. Sick, as he shall be referred to, was wearing a mauve, designer polo shirt and a pair of tight, black, skinny-jeans finished off by a pair of branded boots which were slightly out of place for a chic city club. From progressing conversation I gathered his name, that he still lived at home with his parents and that he was a car sales man. For some odd reason I thought Mr. Sick looked slightly Irish; What with the dark-blonde hair combed into a stylish quiff, baby face and blue eyes I fell a little. However our encounter was to only be brief as I was swept away by a fellow work buddy to dance.
 
As the night wore on and after another trip to the bar we met again. Mr. Sick said that he had to go as his friend was sick and he needed to get him home and would have to go with him. Tipsy, I had said that Mr. Sick could stay with our group of friends and pointed in the direction of my work friends at our V.I.P table we had blagged earlier in the evening. Obliging Mr. Sick left to see his friend off in a cab and then returned with two bottles of beer. "My mate has left this one untouched, you can have it if you like and I'll buy you a fresh one after." He said. Dubious I took the bottle of warm beer and thanked him. He only added to my suspicions though when he said "Don't worry, its not spiked with anything!" Instant flop. I smiled and grinned but at the next available opportunity I put the beer on a table hoping he wouldn't notice. He didn't and after buying me another rancid beer we decided to attempt that age old tradition of dancing. Lets just say that Mr. Sick's dance moves were across between Elvis and Michael Jackson being struck with a tazer gun. It was at this point I noticed he was drinking incredible fast, although I didn't think anything of it. After a while Mr. Sick and I decided to head to a new bar and after walking into the fresh summer air we started to converse again. I bragged about how I lived by myself and had and en-suite room as he stared at me in awe. I knew at that point what would come of the evening. Mr. Sick and I headed to another club and straight to the bar we went, although I was buying this time - I was sick and tired of lousy beer. Passing him his drink we danced some more.
 
Suddenly Mr. Sick grabbed my hand and dragged me outside! Teetering on heels in the chilly air I asked what the plan was. Mr. Sick shrugged his shoulders. There was no point in beating round the bush. Both of us knew where the night would end and after I had spouted off about living alone I thought it would only be rude if I didn't show him where I lived. So we hailed a cab to take us back to mine. After a few smug looks and smirks from the driver I started to talk as if we had been together for ages and that this wasn't just some randomer, this didn't quash the taxi drivers looks though and I felt as though he had seen this story a million times before. Pulling into my quiet cul-de-sac Mr. Sick graciously and generously paid for the twenty-quid taxi fare and we left the cabbie and his opinions behind. Opening the door to my room I let Mr. Sick take a seat on my bed as I showed him my bathroom and asked if he wanted a drink. I felt as though I was in some cheesy rom-com and Mr. Sick's next comments didn't help. He had noticed some erotic fiction on my bedside table and decided that the best thing to do would be to say "Lets reenact some scenes?" To think that if Mr. Sick had ever actually read the book in question, then he could have ended up in a compromising position with a gag ball and some handcuffs. Regardless of that the lights were dimmed and we started to kiss.
 
Not the best kisser of all time although not the worst, although he did have a thing about moving the hair out of my face whilst making-out and loved touching my facial features. Somewhat romantic, but after a while you feel like your a piece of Braille. Although when it come down to the heavy stuff, well, he really didn't like receiving oral. I mean most men go mad for that kind of stuff, and I have been told that I'm 'experianced' in that department. His loss though. When it was my turn to lay back and think of England, all I could think about was the systematic and robotic nature of his hand movements. It was like I was a stubborn stain that needed to be cleaned. When it then came down to the nitty gritty, Mr. Sick attempted, but it was very much a 'is it in yet?' affair. Not my kind of party. I decided to play the tired card and we both rolled over. Mr. Sick attempted the 'big spoon' position and I succumbed.
 
It was only when I opened my eyes again that I heard Mr. Sick retching. Bolting upright just in time to see him puke all over my bed, splashing both me, the duvet and the floor in vomit. Thankfully I didn't have to cart Mr. Sick to the bathroom as he made his own way there, finishing in the sink. Rubbing his back I thought about what I had let myself in for. After profusely apologising he tried to kiss me. Nope. Returning to bed and tucking Mr. Sick in like a child I somehow thought how I was doing the right thing. Most women and indeed some men in my position would have just thrown them out on their ear after what had already happened. But I couldn't. The thought that he could be roaming the local area like a lost animal, drunk and being sick was something I could not live with. So I kept awake and whilst the sun came up and the birds started to sing Mr. Sick lived up to his name a further three times, covering my bathroom in barf. There wasn't one thing that didn't suffer. Towels, toilet, shower door, bath mats, clothes basket, shelf and mirrors were all destroyed by the exorcist like puke-fest. Finally as morning broke and I looked at the clock, the screaming 10am told me that he had to go. And so I released him back into the wild, not even exchanging numbers. Only names.
 
And so that is the story of Mr. Sick. A genuine tale of drunken mess and a hero that was willing to let a mess like that back into her bed to sleep it off. The worst part about it was that he still wasn't Irish. If anything he told me he was originally from Manchester. Close enough I suppose. For some odd reason Mr. Workaholic was thrilled to hear of my bedroom misfortune and used it as an excuse to wheedle his way in again like the slimey toad he is. But still I keep on searching - Both for my new pad and for a new man ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Boulders and Lemons ...

Afternoon Amigo's,

So after last week's hectic week I am finally relaxing on my comfy bed in my Pee-Jays! Another birthday has come and gone and at last Miss Tweedle-Dee has caught up with the rest of us girls and is now twenty-one! I feel old when I think about my last few months as a twenty-uno. Slightly depressing thought. Now aside from the manic week I have had, something more juicy ...
 
Now I am sure that if you are as addicted to television as I am then you will have watched a programme on Channel 4 in the UK called 'First Dates'. And if you watched especially carefully would would have seen a particular sexy face that was Moi! You see I have never been shy in front of the camera as when I was younger I used to be the star of all the home movies before my parents separated. As friends and family gathered around on sofa's and stool last Thursday evening we all waited in anticipation to see their loved-one on the telly. Forty minutes in I appear in a minty, white dress and black blazer with my hair tied up in a top-knot. Cringe was not the word. As I sat in front of the box, watching everyone squeal and squirm as they sat, glued to the screen. The conceited gentleman I had the pleasure of spending my evening with was a young Liverpudlian man whom some of you know as Mr. Accent. Now regardless on how I felt about Liverpudlian's in my last post (See Blind Date ...) from my perspective I felt it went well and I had a very enjoyable evening, although our date did consist of discussing for the most part food. This is one such event that you can now watch on repeat if you so wish to. So there I am on the box, with millions watching and I'm discussing on how I love to drink milk and love lemon cake ... the tarty-ier the better. It was a very minimal part of the date in which I was discussing with Mr. Accent my love of baking and in particular my lemon drizzle cake and just how many lemons I use to make it. Four, if you were wondering. I like my drizzle cakes very sour! I also discussed my love of dairy products in particular milk. This was in response to an odd but relevant question asked by Mr. Accent on what would be my favourite drink. So yes I'm sure that you can imagine the fits of giggles and spontaneous laughter that erupted when my mouth decided to talk poo.
 
After our date however we were asked our opinions and as truthfully as possible I answered that it was a really good date and an enjoyable experience. When asked if there was any spark and as to weather a second date was on the cards I replied with an honest and simple 'Dont Know' - although I did elaborate that there was no spark, but maybe it was a 'grower - like mould'! And with that comment teamed with Lemon-gate I was propelled into the social media and online forums, being hash-tagged and shared across all networks. I didn't mean it in a disgraceful of horrible way, just what was what I was trying to elude to. Unfortunately what Mr. Accent said next made sure that any relationship-mould was cleaned up with some anti-bacterial bullshit. When asked how the date went, Mr. Accent kindly expressed in an unusual way, stating that it was *pause* "very different". Mr. Accent went on to describe the encounter like being "stuck in a tunnel with a boulder at the end". Nice! Catapulted back to my sofa I noted that everyone was in discussed. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were horrified at his comments and enraged they took to the world of social media to vent their upset. I felt indifferent to it though. It was sad that it had happened as it made me out to look like I was a complete idiot who thought the date went well, whereas Mr. Accent had made it out to seem like a complete train crash. regardless of how we both felt, there was no denying that there was no spark and whilst it had been nice to meet, it wasn't a 'Grower'.
 
Completely unphased by his comments I ended the night by bidding a fare-well to my guests as they concluded that it was him that looked bad given his two-faced attitude and not me. Just as Miss Tweedle-Dee was leaving she checked my phone and asked whose number it was. I had only just recently got a new phone so dismissed it verbally as maybe someone who I hadn't messaged in a while. Then Miss Tweedle-Dee said the name of the sender out loud and suddenly a chill ran up my spine. Feeling my stomach do somersaults I took the phone from her. It read: "Just watched you ..... You looked so pretty and came across as the lovely warm person you are. Well done you. x" I froze. My eyes transfixed on the shiny screen. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb knew who it was as others started to question. The message was from Mr. Workaholic's mother whom I became very close with. Essentially I treated her like my own absent mother. A thousand questions fizzled in my head. Why would she message me? Why would she still have my number after more than a year's separation from her beloved son? Why would him and his family yet again exhume those awful memories? Dismissing it completely and brushing it off I said my goodbye's. It didn't work with the Tweedle's though, they could see right through me and my fake smiles, because they knew that deep inside it was like someone had unleashed the maggots and it would only be a matter of time before they start to rot the good memories of our relationship once more. After Dad and his girlfriend had ascended the stairs to bed I followed.
 
Sitting in bed though reflecting on the past hour I began to wander deeply about the fresh communication between me and my ex's mother. I still loved him. Nothing to deny there. As I thought about her comments and what might have been if things had been different the tears began to flow. The realisation had set in that Mr. Workaholic had more than likely watched me too. He had seen me flounder on television whilst on a date with another man. Drowning in the depths of ridiculous conversation and silly comments. I felt worthless. Why had this happened? It had been nearly eighteen months and yet here I was curled up on my soft bed, crying like a child into my duvet. Thoughts of Mr. Workaholic and his friends laughing at me, his family judging me on every aspect like they did when we separated. Maybe Mr. Workaholic had moved on and had a wonderful new girlfriend with legs up to her ears, pretty face, small waist and large asset's - All the things I lacked. Mr. Workaholic was probably laughing at what a pathetic excuse I was right then. Was I over him? No. Do I think I ever will be? No. You see my friends, heartbreak his a horrible thing and I wish none of you have to experience it but I have and it has made me who I am today - A better, stronger, harder person.
 
After pulling myself together I realised my phone was going loco. Taking a peek through blurry eyes I saw some beautiful messages. Messages of congrats and appreciation as well as the odd jibe at lemons or milk. Generally really lovely messages on how I have big balls for doing something like this and being able to stand up and get out there in terms of dating. So many wonderful supportive communications from old school friends, old work mates and people I didn't even know. I have even had a few admirers and potential next dates. So to those of you that said something nice, thank-you. You helped me to realise that despite the aftermath of my fifteen minutes of fame, I have come along way from Mr. Workaholic and the days that I was begging him to come back. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb put it, maybe this is a little push and a small nudging reminder of what he let go of. And who know's maybe he'll come begging soon?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Week In Paradise With The Tweedles

Afternoon guys, 

So, last time we spoke I was on my balcony looking out towards the beach and anticipating the next seven days with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee. And what an amazing way to spend those seven days. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have not spent a single day away from the beach and have indulged in some of our favourite holiday activities including getting so tanned we look like locals and the girls dragging me out to sea so far I can't touch the floor and freak out. 

Miss Tweedle-Dee has now got an arm the size of Jupiter as she has been bitten by Mosquito's so much and as a result has an arm the would resemble something from the plague. I however have not been cursed and for some odd reason the Mozzies prefer her blood, which I'm not complaining at. In fact one evening just before I tucked Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee in bed they alerted me to a speck on our ceiling which was indeed a Mosquito. Without a seconds thought and wanting to protect my friends from the blood-thirsty fiend I took a magazine, jumped on the bed and whacked him so hard I nearly went flying. After finding my balance again I realised that there was screams and laughter erupting from where the girls lay. Looking up to the ceiling I found out why. I had hit the poor insect so hard he had exploded a beautiful blood splat right in his place. Worried that our cleaner may notice I explained how it wasn't noticeable, although we all new it was there for the remainder of our holiday. 

Along with the odd insect murder on our hands we also lived out some childhood dreams. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have known each other for years we knew what sort of upbringings we have had, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I especially. So on the first day we bought a Lilo each and never looked back. We rode the waves and even attempted to surf on the inflatables, that is until Miss Tweedle-Dumb's died of deflation. All three of us turned into kids for the majority of the week often having more than one ice-cream a day and sometimes even for brunch! We got on a Pedalo and rode out to see and even went on a boat trip which was lots if fun. 

Playing a game of 'Inuendo Bingo' also provided a source of entertainment when Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I sat down with a mouth full of water and waiting to see who would crumble first at the sound of something funny from Miss Tweedle-Dee's holiday read. Lets just say that we both got very, very wet. Thankfully though no arguments apart from something trivial which ended up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb throwing water at me, I squirted sun cream at her and before we knew it we had coated the whole apartment in sun lotion and water which made for a very slippery surface as Miss Tweedle-Dumb found out. Attempting to chase me into the bedroom to get me with the water she slipped on the creamy floor and fell right onto her bottom. Definately the top highlight of my holiday. 

There was some serious stuff too. I have had a lot to think about and have come to the conclusion that whilst I love Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee, as well as my family and other friends; I am ready for a change in scenery. I have thought for a long time about moving away and maybe spending a few months living somewhere different. Dublin, Ireland maybe or somewhere closer like Cardiff, Wales. I want to do it over this coming Winter, maybe October 'til March next year - Just some time to find myself and gain some experience of the world. Wherever I go though I am sure I shall have some tales to tell. And who knows I may even find 'The One'.

Speaking of which I have been thinking about the scary world that is dating for a while now and I think it's about time to get back out there. So after a year of being single after the train-wreck that was my last relationship I am finally ready to meet someone new - And Miss Tweedle-Dee is too! As soon as we get back from sunny Majorca I plan on looking into speed dating for Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Chocolate and I. We all need to find our Prince Charming and he won't come looking for us, despite how much we want him to arrive at our workplace one day on a white steed carrying a large bouquet of flowers and a box of fine chocolates. I am positive that Mr. Right is out there for me and all my friends, they just need hunting down and capturing. 

And so we come to the end of another week, this time it was in the sun. Sadly though our flight back home to a drizzly Blighty is tonight. Speaking of which I best go and find Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee. I left them outside to catch some rays again. I hope they haven't been cremated ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Time For A Little Sunshine...

Hey everyone, 

So I am currently writing to you from the very sunny and beautiful island of Majorca in Spain. Slightly chilly out but still, the sun is shining and I don't have work. 

The past week has been fun although not much has happened in the way of anything, apart from having to comfort a very glum and self-destructive Mr. Mot after I had a phone all at one in the morning. I attempted to pamper his ego as much as possible and make him feel better about himself especially what with his current situation, but it was all in vain as he still carried on in the same self-loathing he had started the conversation with. After an hour and a bit of trying to make him feel better I gave up and ended the call. Nevertheless the following day he was as right as rain and back to his cheery, if a little crude and flirtatious self.  Mostly this week though has been preparing for this week. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb have been stressing about packing and departure times and such like all week, where as I have been as cool as a cucumber and have been relaxed, that is up until the wax...

So after my appointment at my local college being booked in on the half-term holidays in the south of England and so therefore being unavailable I found myself a little salon near where I work. Reasonably priced and with the schedule open I booked without hesitation. Upon arriving to said venue some minutes late due to the train being cancelled I was ready to be de-fluffed! Little did I know that walking over hot coals would have been a more pleasurable experience. If you are thinking about it ladies and gentleboys; DON'T - It hurts! Thinking it would be a good idea for holiday is one thing but then carrying it out with a women who you don't even know is another. I mean firstly there was the fact that I had bought new jeans previously and that the dye had rubbed off onto my legs so I looked like an overgrown Smurf. Secondly, less than ten minutes in and because my legs are made of 99.9% cellulite, she spilled hot wax all over me as the roller machine that she was using got trapped in one of my fat pockets. And then there was the sheer fact that she had a looked and touched something that a guy only gets to after he's taken me for dinner. Bareing (no pun intended) this in mind, my legs are still smooth ... ish. Definitely not worth it for the money, the pain or the bite marks on the back of my hands as a result. 

Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I arrived mid morning after a long morning spent traipsing round the airport looking for a coffee shop so that all three of us could function properly as it was like three in the morning. The flight itself was pretty straight forward, but as we were taxing down the runway, for some odd reason I felt an overwhelming urge to kiss someone. To be honest I felt a bit emotional going on holiday again. I always do though. I suppose it doesn't help that I feel this way every time I go away because it was the last time I went on holiday with Mr. Workaholic that he decided to make his own mind up about our relationship. Regardless of that though, I am having a splendid time already. Miss Tweedle-Dumb is having a nap before we head out to dinner. So far there have been no arguments although I have had to seclude myself onto the balcony as Miss Tweedle-Dee is making so much random chitter chatter by talking to herself that I can barely hear myself think. 

And so after a fun and vibrant day in Majorca, Spain it's time to clock off as I am starving and Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I still have to hunt out dinner. Need to wake them up first which shall be a task and a half as Miss Tweedle-Dumb is already snoring. Uhh, she also just farted, how classy of her slumbering self. This will be an interesting few days to watch out for next week. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx

Lights, Camera, Action!

Hello All,
 
Bloggers Note: This post has been changed as per Wednesday 15th May 2013 as a result of some advice given to me regarding
                           subject matter. Don't worry I am sure I will update your more at a later date :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

After an explosive edition last week with views of Trials and Tribulations (of a 20-Something) rocketing to over a thousand last week I would again like to say a big thank-you and that it is very uplifting to come home from a hard days work to see that people still care, so thanks guys!
 
Now, where do I begin on the week I have just had? It started normally, and included an evening sifting through my e-mails deciphering crap from keep. I came across an e-mail from a website looking for people to join in with a new show. After pondering on it for a few days and a deep conversation with Mom I decided to just apply. Attaching some photos and clicking send I never thought it would go very far. Thursday evening after going swimming with Miss Chocolate and as we were about to go into my local for something to eat, I get a call. I answer. Its the production company asking me some questions regarding my application. Sitting in the car while it poured with rain outside I answered honestly and truthfully to the questions asked of my life in general. Ten minutes later, the young female voice asked if I was free Saturday afternoon to come down to London for a casting. And so a plan was set in place that I would go to the city for a casting that following weekend. Munching down on dinner Miss Chocolate and I giggle and chatted about what it would be like and weather anything would every come of it at all.
 
Saturday rolled around as soon as anything and as I started to prepare for my journey I had a call from Miss Tweedle-Dee, stating that she was going with me and to meet her at the station. Once I was ready I blagged a lift with a concerned father to the train station and waiting in the car until the train came, explaining to my Dad that everything would be OK and I would keep safe and all the rest of reassuring you have to do when your off to the Capital. Stepping out into the cold and wet from the car was not pleasant and I soon realised that the hours I had spent on my hair, prettying it, was a waste of time. Meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dee we headed to the big lights of London and headed straight to the infamous Oxford Street to purchase some bargain buys before hopping on the tube again. Coming out of London's St. Pancreas/Kings Cross Station Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for cover as we unsuccessfully dodged the wet weather. Wisely we agreed to split up and that I would go to the casting whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee waiting in a nearby coffee shop. As I started to walk down the long city street I began to realised that this might not be such a good idea. I was soaked right through, my wet, pink shirt clung to my body, my hair was a mess and my make-up made me look like a soggy panda. Was this really going to go anywhere? They would take one look at me and just say "Go away, you are ridiculous!" Although as I thought this I still continued walking and it wasn't before long that I could see the building in question I needed to be.
 
Walking into the building I was greeted by a young receptionist and after a brief conversion involving a short, blonde, middle-aged women we were directed to the bathrooms to freshen up. Upon arrival at said bathroom I noticed that the hair I had spent the previous evening and this morning trying to perfect my locks was all in vain - This mop was going up in a chic, messy bun. The make-up was also adjusted before tackling the sodden blouse. Seeing that the hand dryer was a modern, stick-your-hands-in-and-blow-off-your-skin kind of machine made me pause for a second. How would I dry my shirt? The only way I knew how to I thought. Sweeping my arms through, bingo-wings included I dried my sleeves well. Now it was for the rest. As I squatted in front of this contraption pulling my shirt inside and waving frantically to keep the blowers going I wondered how silly I looked to the middle-aged, blonde lady in the bathroom with me. Shyly she struck up conversation and I could tell instantly she was a nervous wreck. Try to put her at ease I calmed her thoughts that the room was going to be filled with skinny, blonde, busty women looking for love. On the contrary I was thinking that the room would be stuffed with older females, looking for someone they (and their ten cats) can spend the rest of their days with. Well we didn't have long to wait as we walked into an office where we were given some forms to fill out. Trying to make small talk we discussed our lives previous and I discovered that she too came from the Home Counties surrounding London, fancied members of a well-known boy band and was previously married but in her words 'divorced that good for nothing lay-about'.
 
As I was scribbling down my details and reading through the terms and conditions a tall, handsome man walked in with brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Just my type of man. Only thing is he was wearing a blue and white checked shirt, the kind that Mr. Workaholic used to wear to work. Great I thought. I'm now about to be interviewed by my Ex's Doppelganger! Walking into the lift he asked if I had ever done anything like this before as I was very calm and relaxed compared to others he had seen throughout the day. I said how I was used to camera's and the 'acting/fliming' environment as I studied media production and theory at college. As the lift reached the its destination he explained the process of the next few moments. Sitting down I started to tell my story. All of the questions were similar to the application and the phone call I had on Thursday evening so nothing to nerve-shattering. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome asked about my parents and their relationship. Now this was a difficult one to try and skirt around. If you hadn't already known, my parents split when I was just seventeen and one day but the legal proceedings have only just been sorted out. When I say 'Parents' now (in my blog) I refer then to my Dad and his partner. My mother? Ahh, see that is another one. A whole different story in a whole different library! The long and the short of it was that I wanted to maintain a relationship with my father after he was asked to leave the family home and this was something that my mother detested; so much so after a couple of months she chucked me out on the streets and told me to go live with my Father which was impossible since he was living at my grandparents. Luckily my uncle took me in until I moved in by myself, but I haven't spoken to my mother properly since. I call Dad's partner Mom just to make things easier to understand, although I would say it to her face.

I explained my life as it is and described some of the things I enjoy doing and had been through in my 20-something years of being on this earth. I skimmed over the 'thing' I had with Mr. Coffee as in all honesty it wasn't much to brag about. But when it came to talking bout Mr.Workaholic, suddenly I became alone in the room. Just me. And as I opened up about the day Mr.Workaholic came home to tell me he no longer wanted to be with me. It was so raw and fresh at the same time that I felt naked and exposed for the first time in many months. Talking about it in such a bare way made it all seem so real and like it had only happened yesterday. I didn't cry, but it could have easily turned into that if I had carried on. The subject of children and the white picket fence came up and I admitted that I wanted it all, just not right now. I said how I wanted to have fun first and experience life before settling down. After calling it a wrap, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome and his female colleague remarked on how mature and wise I was for my age and how such a young, vibrant, bubbly person can have endured so much in such a short amount of time. I knew that they weren't just talking of relationships but also the fact that my own mother threw me out at just seventeen. I was used to it though, everyone seems to feel sorry for me, I don't know why?

Taking the trusty lift downstairs again and walking back to the office, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome said again how cool and collected I was and made clear the next steps in the process. Filling out yet more paperwork and reading a heavy contract I listened to the other women chattering on about lives outside of this building. Most of them I could tell were from London just by their accent and how they spoke. 'Ive been travelling for nine years around Romanian, Russia, France and the Middle East' and 'I went there on my gap year actually' were a few of the phrases throw around by the socialites whilst I tried to read through the extensive pages of boring contract. Finally signing and handing back my papers I waited in the room of city dwellers and there I listened more to a middle-aged women discussing how her boisterous and confident attitude didn't bode well with men and thus the lack of relationships. Once I was cleared to go I thought nothing more of heading straight out the door and back to the coffee shop where Miss Tweedle-Dee was waiting for me.

Skipping down the wet high street I savoured the sights of the city; the tall buildings, grey pavements and loud noises made me grateful of my quiet suburbia back home with Mom and Dad. Arriving at the coffee shop I found a rather tired Miss Tweedle-Dee watching TV on her smart-phone and texting friends. "Before you start, if you want a drink you should get one now" she said. After dithering for a few seconds I went to get something to drink. As I approached the back of the queue I saw a friendly face. Is that who I think it is? It was! It was two very famous members of a English boy-band whose name sounds like McSky. I was very happy and thought about asking for a photo but figured since one of them had their hood up indoors and they were dressed casually that they were attempting an incognito snack break. After rushing back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and announcing my findings of their order I raced back to gawp at them some more. Once they had left I placed my order and once seated safely at my table with Miss Tweedle-Dee beside me I told my tale.

After slurping down our beverages Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed back to the tubes for some last minute shopping and sightseeing, winding up at Marble Arch next to Hyde Park for some dinner. I enjoyed our little trip and whilst nothing may never come of the casting specifically, it was a nice experience and one I can share with you all. Maybe this is a step in the right direction for me as far as dating goes? Mind you I better not be settling down too soon I have mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic weekend away coming up soon so hold on tight for some more prowling nights out.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx