Seeking out our Scorsese

Evening Ya'll

So after fulfilling my weekends ambition of having a matching Pyjamas day on the sofa under plenty of blankets watching back-to-back episodes of Say Yes To The Dress UK and Teen Mom UK, I had to move from my pit, if anything to the glass desk and my emails that awaited. On sifting through copious amounts of free this and buy that were multiple wedding admin to work through. My quest for wedding suppliers continues and on the agenda most recently along with the long list of caterers and others is trying to find a videographer that Mr Warehouse is, at the very least, grinning and bearing with. 

When I first thought about my wedding planning journey I realised that I would want some sort of video footage, and that was long for Mr Warehouse stepped on the scene. I suppose ever since doing Media Production and Media Studies at college as a student I realised the importance and deep-rooted connection that you can have to a video with sound and vision as opposed to just a still image. Having said that, I have already booked a photographer whose work is incredible, albeit just starting out she still commanded a £575.00 price tag. But the way I see it is that you cannot put a price on your memoirs and with her approach and "look" certainly far from the in your face and staged posing that my fiance was expecting following his interactions with wedding photographers in the past. Mr Warehouse has pretty much stated right at the beginning of our wedding planning journey and knowing that I already wanted something on film that he does not want a videographer at all, let alone one that will be in everyone's face like a fresh-faced news reporter asking for guests current opinion on the dress and what marriage advice they could give to the bride and groom. 

But alas he is so ill-informed as there are plenty of different styles and ways you can have a wedding video nowadays. There are some companies who will simply edit together a video compiled of your own footage coupled with your guests. There are several other companies that will lend you there cameras and equipment so that you can film a high spec video yourself, only to then send back the cameras along with the footage and they will edit it into a feature length or highlights reel. And I suppose that the real top-dog of videography packages would be someone coming to shoot your whole day, starting with the preparation of the Bridal party at home with me and the girls, transitioning through to the moments at the church and just before we become husband and wife. Continuing through a good videographer will capture everything from the heartfelt vows through to the giggles in the speeches, flowing nicely the cutting of the cake, our very first dance as a married couple and ending with some candid shots of the Dance floor as people start to let the alcohol take control. 

When I look back on my wedding video in years to come, be it after an argument, with the kids, with the grandkids even or just us, I want to be transported back to that magical day and remember all the little things that happened and that my eyes didn't catch. I want to listen to people give me advise and laugh at everyone's antics. I want to look back and see the face and movement and words, listening to their voice as I remember that they are no longer with us. In all of that, chances are, no matter how sharp mine or my new Hubbies memory is, we won’t remember every single detail of it off by heart and it is for this additional reasoning, as well as the emotional side why nowadays couples like me (and Mr Warehouse) are opting to have wedding videography. 

Forget the out of focus and wobbly videos your Uncle Joe may have filmed in years gone by, cutting off heads and filming the floor when he was meant to be filming your entrance; The new breed of wedding videographers are producing high quality and imaginative wedding day films using digital camera, up-to-date technology and editing techniques to create a variety of filming styles, all with a timeless touch!

We have looked into different methods such as edit only or DIY-shooting and then sending it off to a company to edit together. Companies like Shoot It Yourself have put a spin on wedding videography where they provide the video cameras and its the happy couple's friends and family who film and shoot the video. Afterwards, the cameras are returned for the Shoot It Yourself techies to edit into a beautiful film. Whilst this is low cost and very much a DIY and home-video feel, it is not something Mr Warehouse feels comfortable doing the whole "vlogger for a day" thing! 

As we are finding through our (mainly my) searches, you pay for what you get so some thorough research is needed before we even commit to a company or person. A high-quality wedding film can involve one or two cameramen on the day and an editor, if not the cameraman themselves for the best part of a week, so we must expect all this to be reflected in the price. However that being said, I have reached out to a few friends and old acquaintances and have had a few reasonable quotes back, however, my latest venture to the college for my catering may also prove lucrative in terms of using the media students as well as those from the food tech department. Either way I am sure we will find our Spielberg somewhere!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Fifty Shades Finished ...

Evening, 

Sitting in the cinema, work colleagues surrounding me I felt emotional as the last few scenes played out on the big screen. This was a massive part of my life. It had been here for so long. I had read the books, Imagined my Christian and I his Ana. I had witnessed the terrible first movie and how, hooked and in need of a giggle I continued onto the Box Office for the second and third instalment. But now it was over. The end of an era and time maybe to say goodbye once and for all. 

Back in 2012, admits a gut-wrenchingly messy break-up with Mr. Workaholic I took complete solace in reading the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. It seems like so long ago I struggle to remember what it was like reading them, although I know already a part of me is hesitant to return to such a dark place in my past. Those books shaped my being, gave me structure and when everything else failed helped me realise that there was life after heart-break, even if it was sleazy and smutty. 

After being gifted 'Fifty Shades of Grey by Miss Tweedle-Dee I began reading a matter of weeks after Mr. Workaholic left what was to be our family home one day. I was hooked. It was my escape and at every given opportunity I would dive straight back into it. I couldn't put it down. On the Bus. On the Train. In the Weight Watchers Class. At work and At home. Like the rest of the nation, I was enraptured by Christian and his Red Room of Pain! Written as part of an original Twilight fan fiction I soon completely immersed myself in the world of Mr. Christian Grey and Miss Anastasia Steele. When I wasn't found drinking away my sorrows with friends of a weekend back home in Dunstable and Luton, or at sneaking out of work on a break to call Mr. Woof just to get him off, I would be found with my head in those books; escaping in any way I could from my own reality. 

As things got easier with my break-up with Mr. Workaholic, I soon rekindled a somewhat telephonic and long-distance relationship with Mr. Woof, (to which he has now earned his name) and in a round about way, gave me back some power and control I had since lost. In past blog posts I have written about how control and domination has been something of interest for me since I was a teenager, with rough play and borderline BDSM being a sticking point in many of my previous relationships. When E. L. James hit the big time with the trilogy of clit-flicks Fifty Shade of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, I was left wanting more. So when the films were announced to be released in cinemas I like many a red-blooded women was screaming in pleasure and joy at seeing Willies on the size on iMAX screens. Since then however, some idiot decided to turn the whole thing into a shoddily thrown together movie of the first book whereby we learnt that the cast hate each other, the director and the author hate each other and how much tits, bums and fannies get airtime in films that were made for women who like cock. 

Anyway that was Media Student me popping out to say hello, One minute whilst I beat her back into her fluffy-handcuffs. 

I suppose in a way the concept of BDSM had always been in the back of my mind, a taboo idea reserved only for a trusting relationship of which I found myself without. But I always liked the thought of being in control and in charge. I tried it once. Once! 

Cast your minds back everyone to my post entitled "A Midsummer Night's Disaster!" in which I truly thought that this would be a good time to implement my inner dominatrix. Suffice to say that attempting kinky sex with a drunk man whom you do not know the name of and have brought home for the night is not a good idea at all. My excuse was that I was a lost little soul who had just found out the love of her life was not reciprocating the feeling. I think we all know the ending to that story so I shall not relive it again. Looking back now it was a step too far and one which was taken in hast with the prospect of getting over my first and possibly only true love, at least that is what I thought at the time, unbeknownst to me that I would meet the quirky Mr. Cheese, The flash-in-the-pan that was Mr. Coffee and oh-so lovable Mr. Warehouse not to mention some of the other odd-balls I dated. 

Needless to say that I was happy with the (NSA) No Strings Attached heated phone-calls I received in the dead of the night from Mr. Woof. Some of them were when he was stoned. Some of them were when he was drunk. Some of them were even when he was at work himself. When I talk about it like that it seems as though he was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend. But I was as much to blame in that as Mr. Woof was. I wanted and needed attention. I craved it. I was lacking from all areas of life and was bruised by recent events, so I did what any normal girl would in that scenario and go back to what was familiar and comforting to me and that was Mr. Woof. Yes we had an odd relationship from the moments we would sneak off to a quiet corridor in school or the after school stolen sessions on the meadow fooling around in the sun. I was always his secret and now I didn't mind that so much as I wasn't ready for commitment but still needed that yearning attention and to get back some sort of control on my life. Even to this day I don't think that Mr. Woof really knew the power he had over me and how he made everything seem better in those stormy, cloudy days. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted. My honey pot of self-discovery and self-obsession. A confidence boost that extended far further than sexual gratification. Ahh yes, it was "A Dogs Life" after all. 

And as I left that cinema seat, another film over and done with, I felt sad for the ending of something that had brought me such fun, laughter and naughtiness over the last six or so years. And all for seeing a crumby movie about bondage. 


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Lazy Weekend Of Not Doing Much At All!

Hello Dears!

Last week was a very productive, very forward planning weekend and despite having spent little or no money (well ... maybe a few pennies) I felt as though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I had a good shopping trip all round. And as I write this she is probably soaking up the warm-er weather of Rome with her boyfriend. So Jealous! 

But you would think that after finding out I had new boobs, or at least the rediscovery of boobs that were there but not cared for, I would have an equally planned out weekend including Christmas preparation and wrapping and present buying all tied up in one. and truth be told I did have that planned although after being told that I was no longer working my second job on Saturday morning I sought no need to get up early and head out the door and so therefore spent the entire day in bed. I only braved the chill of outside the duvet a handful of times, either for food or the bathroom. 

Soon enough though my alone time was over as Mr. Warehouse crashed through the door from work, soaking wet from the torrential down pour outside and chillier than a penguins freezer. And so after making mozzarella filled meatballs with spaghetti, my lovely Mr. Warehouse came and joined me in my bed. Snuggling up under my duvet watching rubbish TV made me realise that I do really care for him and as I began to get a headache I saw just how much he cared for me also as he swaddled me in a cosy blanket and made me melted chocolate buttons (which is my fave!) Such a sweetie! We finally finished watching the Fast and Furious box-set we had been lent several weeks ago and after much deliberation I had come to the conclusion that The Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift makes absolutely no sense and as a female, watching along with a male, I am still incredibly confused as to what exactly it's point in the saga is. I just don't get it. Some South-American Hill-billy guy goes to Tokyo, makes friends with Bow-Wow and drives a significant number of cars less than Vin Diesel, whom I might add, like the rest of the Fast and Furious cast including Paul Walker (RIP), Michelle Rodriguez and Samantha Vincent are seemingly missing in action on this film? Albeit it was an OK film, but I will be honest, the only reason I watched it was for the sequence of events that lead up to Fast and Furious 7. 

In fact, thinking about it now I would like to think that my baby brother would be proud of me for asking, if not begging for those films to be played. Sometimes I wish that it was him I was sharing a moment with, drinking a beer or two and enjoying a film we used to secretly watch as kids even if we weren't old enough. I wonder all the time what he is up to and where he is. I know roughly where him and the mother lives although I wouldn't dare try to hunt them down. Whilst I see my mother as a poisonous plant that needs to be stamped out, I know my brother should be left like a wild animal to become tame and discover himself before coming to find me, rather than me hunting for him and pushing a relationship onto him that he is not comfortable with. I hear through the grape-vine that he has passed his driving licence and whilst slightly miffed that he passed before I did, I am proud of my Little Bro' and all he has and will achieve. 

I enjoyed my relaxing weekend but this week ahead of me will be chocka to say the least. Tonight is standard Monday night blues as I mourn the weekend, remember how poor I am and rush something cardboard-y and horrible tasting for dinner. Tuesday and Thursday I am working at my second job this week if they don't decide to cancel it (the bastards). Wednesday you ask? Ahh yes. Wednesday I will be returning back to my Home-Town to visit some family coming over from Southern Ireland in which we shall share a Chinese and drink probably a few glasses in order to numb the drone of the bickering over something that doesn't wholly matter. But by the time my hangover has ended it will be weekend and after booking Friday off from work and reserving a hotel in London I will be thoroughly looking forward to my weekend away with Mr. Warehouse, especially Hyde Park's Winter Wonderland with The Tweedles and Friends!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fifty Shades of Dismay!

Hello one and all, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx