Work Hard, Shop Harder!

Heyy, 

"Why am I up so early on a Saturday?!" I thought as I rolled over and tried to turn off my alarms before they woke Mr. Warehouse. Listening to my new addition cry and whine downstairs (and yes the puppy trauma through bedtime routines and trying to keep our little Frankenstein happy in his own company is still an issue) I remembered that today was the day Miss Tweedle-Dee and I visit the worlds biggest Primark in the heart of Birmingham's Bullring shopping centre. 

Primark describes itself on its website as coming a long, long way since they opened back in 1969 under the name Penny's in Dublin (of which in southern Ireland it still operates under that name). Today, Primark operates in more than 330 stores in 11 countries across Europe and America. With the biggest share of the fashion market in the UK, Ireland, Spain and Portugal they are able to stand out from the crowd by offering amazing fashion at an amazing price. Being able to buy in volume from over 700 suppliers in 37 countries gives the store an advantage to bring us all quick and speedy trends in double-time and at rock bottom prices! Primark justifies its low prices with claims it spends nothing on advertising and has tight profit margins thus helping it to improve itself and thrive on an already suffering High Street in Britain. 

Whilst Primark's reputation has not been glittering in recent years with criticism over staff pay as well as the environmental and social impact of so-called "fast fashion" it has stood the test of time as it opens its 187th store in the UK - The biggest one in the world. Set over five floors, the 160,000sq ft space once occupied the entire site of the former Pavilions shopping centre in Birmingham's New Street. The new store features Disney’s first officially licensed cafe located outside of its resorts and cruise ships, a barber shop called Mills x Primark, a beauty studio chain Duck & Dry Xpress, as well as Primark’s standard range of value clothing and accessories. Truly a one-stop-shop for everything to pamper yo'self! 

Store design director Sanjay Dihman had no trouble explaining to retailgazette.co.uk as to why Birmingham was the chosen city for the world’s biggest Primark. With its completion rumouring to have cost around £70 million the store now employs more than 1000 people, 430 of whom were existing employees who have transferred from the former New Street branch. A further 500 brand new jobs were created, plus another 100 for partner-run in-store experiences including chefs, hair stylists and beauticians. 

On arrival, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed straight to the top and to the new Disney-themed cafe which is strategically situated on the same level as the cute kidswear range I assume to attract families and keep everyone entertained as they wait in line for their Mickey waffles and pancakes. The cafe features a Mickey-Mouse-shaped entrance and digital tables where children are able to play games while dining in, not to mention TV's with Disney cartoons running all the time!  Although one disappointment was the fact that the tables were jam-packed so tightly together it was very uncomfortable to be sat so close to one another, not to mention getting in and out. I say that our trip to the Disney inspired Cafe was brief, however, it still took well over twenty minutes to get a simple latte for my bestie. Although this was nothing in comparison to the poor lady sat next to us who had been waiting for her Mickey pancakes and waffles for her and her two children for well over 30 minutes before she asked for them a second and even a third time before finally demanding her money back and walking out!

Our experience, as Mr Warehouse put it, was very much like any other Primark shop with all the latest in womenswear, menswear, kidswear, lingerie, beauty and homeware all thrown together with some little added benefits such as free wi-fi and a seating area fitted with phone chargers for men when they get bored! It was massive and after a pit-stop in the Disney cafe to grab some breakfast we headed out to find some bargains. Although the sales and reductions were few and far between it is to be expected when you have just opened a new store with thousands trudging the kiosks and stands each and every day. 

One of the things Miss Tweedle-Dee and I did miss out on and something I certainly missed was the Custom Lab – the bespoke print lab for t-shirts and other items – something which seems to be popping up in an increasing number of its stores which has been growing in popularity. And so it appears I may have to return sometime soon ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Off To See The Wizard ...

Hello Dears, 

Who ever knew at the last week would have been so hard. After coming back from Basingstoke and all the fun that we had there it was like returning home after not having a weekend. No Besties and no fun! Just work! But one thing I was looking forward to was this weekend Halloween celebrations. 

Now don't get me wrong I understand that a lot of people will probably not get the whole Halloween vibe, even going as far as to say that it is far too American for our British culture and that by adopting this as well as the Black Friday Saga that seems to come round every year we are slowly but surely losing out on the good old fashioned British values. But what people fail to realise is that this time of year made Britain what it is today. Some of my fondest childhood memories are in the autumn, when the leaves fall and I used to spend the weekends watching fireworks with my family and celebrating remembrance parade halfway through November. One fond memory that is missed off the list is from Halloween. 

As a child I always wanted to celebrate the spooky nature of All Hallows Eve and all that it brings. Getting dressed up in the scary costumes and playing trick or treat on all the neighbours doors was something in our household growing up as kids that was found upon and seen as a form of begging. I barely got the chance to stay out long enough on a school night to even attempt a trick or a treat. Oh how I longed to go to a high school Halloween party or even throw one of my own.

As I separated from my family I grew into my own and realised just how much I enjoy this holiday, even if it is an all American import. Halloween for me celebrate everything about being fun and creative, making costumes and carving pumpkins. I love being scared and making others scared, although I draw the line at some haunted houses as it is almost certain I would have a heart attack just walking into place. Unlike our American cousins we have decided to take a truly British spin on Halloween, keeping as traditional as possible with a scary twist making sure that All Hallows Eve remains of the day we celebrate the dead and send home all those that are Lost Souls. 

Over the years I have dressed as many different characters including that Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, a scary Doctor/Nurse, A Fallen Angel and this year was no different for I had gone and bought myself a proper outfit for the occasion. Unfortunately I'm bringing it home Mr Warehouse took one look and said that he could easily have pulled off the look himself. And what girlfriend would I be to deny him of this choice. And so, this weekend Mr Warehouse donde blue gingham dress, wig and red socks over his shoes in order to pull off one of the most shoddily put together Wizard of Oz outfit I think I have ever seen. And Me?! Well of course I could not go as Toto so indeed I went as the cowardly lion, complete with his heart ripped out of his chest, ready to begin his quest to find it. Now I will be honest in the fact that it took a few people some goes to get the whole idea of what we came as, but once they understood laughter soon ensued. 

Now normally Mr Warehouse is not bothered at all by Halloween and I am usually planning our outfits at least a year in advance, but this year as we stood watching the fireworks in the local village Mr. Warehouse wondered outside what we would be dressed as this time next year. Since I have used up all the liquid latex and my makeup brushes will be going to get ruined, I figured that maybe we should go for a more simpler and easier look next year. I seriously considered going as Cruella DeVille and Horace who stole the puppies, however I know that I would be reaching for the liquid latex once again for the cheekbones and chin would not chisel themselves. I considered also the latest cinema releases this year including Beauty and the Beast, however yet again they would be much preparation for the dress and the suit are quite hard to come by. 

I am not quite sure yet what Mr Warehouse and I will be wearing this time next year on Halloween however what I do know is that it will probably be a little bit easier to come by. The thought of simply being a vampire or even that Frankenstein and his bride was far too tame for me before, although I feel now that this would be something quite apt for the occasion and in all fairness rather easy to do. Although a small part of me feels that after so many years of prosthetics, liquid latex and toilet paper all mashed up with some homemade fake blood that I would be taking a rather easy route out of the Halloween outfit hall of fame. Who knows what the next year holds, maybe we will go as Chucky and his bride or maybe we will go at something more challenging. But one thing is for sure that in the next 12 months I am sure to have a lot more fun! And to think Mr Warehouse have another one in a few weekends time! Roll on the 90's!

 'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx 

Size Does Matter!

Hello one and all, 

Standing in front of my wardrobe I looked back at myself. I was fat. I mean saying this now sounds like nothing new to me, I have always been a larger lady, even in my teens and during my school years I was always bigger than other girls, but as I graduated High School and things in my life started to take a downward turn my diet was one of the last things on my mind. Living with my Uncle and Auntie for a while was easy, as was living with my dad and even Mr. Workaholic and his Dad. Everything pretty much was cooked and dished out to me, all I had to do was eat it. I would walk most if not everywhere and totted up a good few miles everyday by simply getting to and from work, college and socialising. 

But when I moved up to Northampton in order to start my new life with Mr. Workaholic I ballooned to my biggest weight so far. At over nineteen stone and a size twenty/twenty-two I was far from happy, at least in my body. Living off of beige food groups and turkey dinosaurs was not ideal either and since Mr. Workaholic refused to eat any sort of vegetable and saw bananas as the only fruit he would stomach (What a surprise that they were also beige in colour) it was very difficult to cook for someone so fussy. Towards the end of my relationship with Mr. Workaholic's things started to get mean and nasty and I suppose if I was really honest it would have been not that long after we moved to Northampton. The name calling and lack of compliments drove me from being a confident and cocky tween to a shy and anxious girl, always worried about her weight and that one day her boyfriend would feel repulsed enough by her that he would leave. And one day he did. I mean granted he didn't leave on the basis that I was larger than when we first met but I could tell that he had not felt attracted to me in sometime, or at least that is how it felt. 

Separating from Mr. Workaholic was hellish and a time that I can rarely recall anything happening at all, but I do remember my weekly meetings at WeightWatchers and how shocked the lady was when I made yet another big loss on the scales. When I was asked what my secret was or how I had lost all the weight I joked with my fellow fat fighters that in a dark way when the love of your life just up's and leaves you with no real reason or explanation, leaving behind just a whole lot of heartache and mess to clear up it soon puts you off food. And just as I started consuming more than caffeine and water on a daily basis I was hit with another bomb shell. Mr. Workaholic was seeing someone else, and it had been less than a fortnight. Not only that but whilst I was recovering from shock in Southern Ireland with my Aunt and Uncle, Mr. Workaholic was swanning round Newcastle, jumping from bed to bed I heard. 

After my weight plummeted to nearly what I was before I met Mr. Workaholic, I started feeling better about myself. I had new love interests, a new outlook on life and I was twenty-one. The perfect mix of young and throwaway yet knowing what I was doing. The next few years I fluctuated but always stayed around the fifteen stone mark, always being able to comfortably fit into a size fourteen/sixteen. But as the years went by and I finally got my very own flat in Bedford I got into bad habits and poor diet choices, although still walking most places I would always keep the belly off a little. 

Since meeting Mr. Warehouse though and especially over the last year since we moved in together I have only felt and seen my size increase. I can now only dream of fitting into a size eighteen let alone a size fourteen or sixteen. I am now so unhappy with my weight that I honestly need to start doing something about it. My clothes don't fit properly and I have a wardrobe full of lovely jumpers, jeans and tops that I just look like a sack of potatoes in. My arms are too fat and my belly is protruding more than my tits at present. Although I joke about it with friends and family, it starts to become a real concern when the arms of your office chair start to get tighter and tighter. 

So after I get paid on Wednesday (Thank fuck, it seems like an age since I last got paid) I will be hitting the classes hard. Sod Gyms and their expensive memberships, I am going to start getting into classes and swimming. FitSteps, Zumba, Clubbercise and Aquarobics; I'm trying them all! Healthy eating too, I have started thinking even before I go shopping now what sort of food will be better for me and for my darling Mr. Warehouse. More Veg, more moving and less beige. Before I know it I will be looking better than I ever have before and feel much more happier that I don't have to shop only in the plus size range. Besides, I can't be looking like a blob on the beach with Mr. Warehouse in August can I ... ?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Trick or Treat!

Hello Dears!

So after returning home after Dreamboys last week to my very own Dreamboy, I decided to spend my weekend with him and his family celebrating the dead and dressing up for a frightful night of goblins and ghouls! Why its Halloween of course! 

Another big change was my hair colour this week and after quite frankly years (with the odd ginger phase thrown in for good measure) I had been blonde since probably the Mr. Workaholic days. And as scary as it initially was looking back at myself sitting in a top London salon (I had gone there as I had scouted out a girl looking for some training in colour correction to pass her hairdressing exams) I was nervous about what other people would think of my new luscious shiny brown locks. But my reaction has been mostly good, in fact better than I anticipated. Brown has been a big change back to something somewhat more normal, even if  it does remind me of the mother!? All day today at work I was being told how sexy, mature, grown up and attractive I looked now I was Brunette. Even caught the eye of some of the lads from the warehouse - Next to my very own Mr. Warehouse, who, after tugging at my head for several moments realised that this was for real and not just a wig. And so I am now Brunette and boring - I can safely say that four days into being a brownie; Blondes definitely had more fun. Or maybe it was that I can still have the same fun, just Blondes can get away with more!?

One reason, but not wholly, why I wanted to go to the dark side was simply that I didn't think my Halloween costume looked right with Blonde hair. Brunette Little Red Riding Hood certainly looks more a part than Blonde Little Red Riding Hood which made an appearance at a club Halloween disco one year. Mmm, yes definitely think I will be showing off the naughty Brunette do for a few months yet, might even keep it for summer too!?

But yes this week in the UK and I am almost certain the rest of the world it was Halloween! This year I went as Brunette Little Red Riding Hood, or as I liked to put it, Little Dead Riding Hood completed with scratched face as if from a mysterious werewolf. Now if I could get away with it, and not upstage completely my other-half's family, I would throw a hum-dinger of a partay. But unfortunately Mr. Warehouse's cousin already beat me and is now such a mainstream tradition in the family that even if I threw a small one it would look as if I was trying to out-Halloween-party-him. But don't you worry, give me a few years, maybe a family of my own and I will start to throw some crazy parties around here! No dinner parties allowed - Boring arses!

But it got me thinking about Halloween in general because in Britain, unlike in the States it is a very small, almost insignificant holiday. Well in fact its not even given that title here. In Ireland I know for sure they celebrate it as the Eve of The Day Of The Dead which is held on the 1st or 2nd of November to celebrate the dead and their lives - But in England, we don't. I think, or at the very least it is an old South American thing but I like it and the The Day Of The Dead is a celebration and the costumes and make-up, whilst scary are very much beautiful and artistic. I am seriously considering this as an option for next year already! Although I am not really sure if this is something Mr. Warehouse would feel comfortable in ... 

Halloween is also the time for little snotty nosed kids and spoilt brats of teenagers to walk around houses, pumpkin indulged or not and knock on the doors until sweets, money and any other piece of materialistic value appears to have been plonked in their buckets. I suppose its like a poor man's backwards Santa Claus.  Now I myself would have loved to go Trick or Treating. My parents had explained it to me that in the olden-times children would knock on the door, someone would answer and after screaming joyfully "Trick or Treat" the home owner would ask for a trick. The child, or children, would then perform a trick - Singing a song, doing a magic trick or telling a joke or a poem. I knew the values of this sacred day in children's calenders, but alas I never got a chance to. My father, but mainly my mother, found it as a form of begging and as a result whilst my friends called round to my door and everyone else's on the street, I was forced to shamefully open that said door and hand out the years supply of sweets and chocolate no-body had eaten since the last time they came a-calling. 

This in turn I think made me more determined to go all out when I was old enough to not listen to them, opting for going out out and staying late to parties I didn't know the host of. I still have yet to this day to throw a banging party or go trick or treating, but I know that when I have my own kids they will be able to have those opportunities I did not. Heck, I will probably even dress up with them! Probably in something cliche and cute like a Franken-family or a cool family get up like The Addams Family or a Twisted Batman inspired clobber! As for my pre-mommy stage of life though, the standard anything-goes Sexy Halloween Costume will have to do. Since turning seventeen I have been as a Bat, Witch, Goth, Fallen Angel, Little Red Riding Hood, Cat, Snow White, Wolf and a Dark Fairy. But what will I be next year?! That is the question?! Maybe a freaky take on a couples dress up like Disney's 101 Dalmatians, or Corpse Bride?! Maybe Something different like a Broken China Dolly, a better version of Kim K's Poison Ivy or Sexy Skeleton! Hmmm ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Up, Up and Away!

Morning All, 

So after many, many months of planning and preparing as well as at least forty evenings spent scouring the internet for the best deals around, Mr. Warehouse and I are finally off on our first ever holiday, abroad at least. Unfortunately a luxury two-week holiday in Bali or even the Canaries is off the cards as we both are in financial straights at the moment and whilst I am saving to get myself a little run-around, Mr. Warehouse is slowly trying to clear some debts of his own. 

But after searching for what seemed like weeks on end for a week long break away from Blightly, somewhere hot and with things to do I got it! Lyon in the South of France. Now it may not be somewhere beachy or sickenly romantic, but you try finding a holiday for a week somewhere hot, in the school holidays and on an August bank holiday weekend, and all for under £200.00! It isn't easy, trust me!  

Because it is France, and being situated in a city half way between Paris and Cannes, full of culture much different to our own and wonderful places to visit I am thoroughly looking forward to going away. I am kind of hoping that I will be swept off my feet a little by it all. I mean, I am already very much loved up with my Mr. Warehouse but maybe this holiday with each other will reignite something special again and make that fire burn even brighter than before. Although I cant help feel slightly uneasy at the fact that the last few times I have been away with a boyfriend for more than a few nights it has always ended with a break-up within eight-weeks. 

A small part of me hopes that whilst Mr. Warehouse doesn't like flying,  he will enjoy himself and learn to accept another culture and enjoy the time we spend together. I would like to think that a trip to France, one of the most romantic places I believe to be in the world, along with New York, Bath and Italy, will inspire him and excite him to be more romantic, because lets face it girls, we all love a bit of cheese with the flowers and chocolates thing. 

What I am most looking forward to about the trip to Lyon is all the things we will get to experience and do there. Situated in the Rhone-Alpes region, it is France's third largest city. The city is not only known for its historical and architectural brilliance, not to mention the art of weaving and creating silk products high in the hills overlooking the city, but also its gastronomical flare too. The Lyonnaise cuisine is something of a foodies paradise, and as a lady who cant get enough of the sweet and savoury, I am more than happy to be dining out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. and with a Roman Amphitheatre to parooze, Rhone and Saone Rivers to cruise along and the trendy Presqu'île peninsula areas to explore I am sure not to be disappointed with the out come of this longer mini-break. 

Question is will it break? And if it doesn't when will we? I have said to Mr. Warehouse on several occasions over the past few weeks that there will be some sort of argument. I am anticipating it. I know that I will be as calm as a cucumber chilling in a freezer box whilst the hot-headed and frantic flap that is Mr. Warehouse will be running around my flat come Thursday morning asking if I have my Passport for the hundredth time and hurrying me along to do my make-up despite not needing to leave for at least a good half-hour?! Or maybe it will be at the airport when I fail to take off my shoes at security or forget I had that bottle of hand cream in my carry on? Maybe it wont be until we get to Lyon and then, in broken French, try to navigate our way through afternoon traffic to our hotel? Maybe it will be all three and in the heat of the moment (and the thirty-something-degree heat out there at the moment) we will rage at each other like an Italian at a wedding and then have gloriously loud, passionate and frantic make-up holiday sex! 

Ahhh I cannot wait! Bring. It. On. Just to think, this time next week I will be on my last night there, preparing to come home and writing to you from what I hope will be a wonderfully lovely hotel and holiday. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Living The American Dream!

Good Morning one and all, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Spreading My Wings

Morning one and all, 

So the past couple of weeks have been hectic and in all honesty I know that the next few up until I leave for the States are going to be even more-so. But as life passes by in a haze, blurring one day into the next and weeks into months I wonder to myself when I have a moment from the manic madness that surrounds my desk and wonder what I want from life. 

Consulting my head I know that my long-term prospects are to find a man, settle down, move in, get a dog, get engaged, become someones wife and bear children then spend the next eighteen-plus years of my life occupied by baby vomit, what Sarah said at the school gates last Friday and why Dairylea Triangles only come in packs of six. And that is all whilst trying to hold down a job, house, bills and keep my husband relatively happy with the weekly blowjob, despite me having to wait ages for him to return the favour. Ahh yes, how I cannot wait for life to start with me being the head of my family. 

But something has struck me the past few months, and that is the fact that I am twenty-three. I still have lots and lots and lots (and lots more) living to do before that happens. Your twenties are meant to be the throwaway years. The ones that you spend travelling through Cambodia with some random hippie called 'Russell' whom of which you have a passionate love-life despite it not being a permanent fixture. The years you spend drinking away your hard-earned cash and sleeping with less than affluent village idiots where you have a better relationship with your duvet than with your mom or dad. 

Yes, I have thought for a long time about what I want out of life and what with being twenty-six days and counting into the New Year there is no time like the present to make some changes in order to better myself, my horizons, love-life and experiences making me an all-round better person and someone who will be able to grow some more delectable tales to tell. When I finally put down the bottle of Sambuca and turn off the disco lights in my late twenties I want to be prepared with stories of the years when I was acting-adult. I want to have dinner parties with new friends and go to mother and baby groups where we can chat about all sorts of life lessons and anecdotes that would help us through the sleepless nights and mash-throwing contests of our children. 

While Mr. Cheese was not the best kind of person in all regards, least his bedroom ability to keep up with my libido, he did awaken a fire within me to get out into the world and see things. When Ghana-gate was first announced I always thought I would like the idea of just going somewhere for several months and travelling, working, learning and having fun all at the same time. Maybe I would make some new friends or even meet that all-illusive 'The One'. Africa. Asia. Australia. The Americas. All are so rich with sites and scenery I am struggling which to do and where to go. Mr. Warehouse? I don't think or even know if he is the travelling type. He is such a home-bird I think it would be too much to fly away for months at a time with no sense of where we are going and what we are doing. I don't honestly think he is cut out for it, let alone us as a couple?! Besides I think I would enjoy it more and I may get more out of it if I was on my own. Anyway, you can only fit one person on an elephant at once!

I have however settled with this year exploring a little closer to home. Europe will be my big hitter this year and I may consider taking a good two weeks in order to go travelling around it, accompanied by as many weekends away as I can cram in. Denmark, Switzerland, France, Italy, Poland and Austria are all top of my list including fascinating cities like Prague, Budapest, Berlin and others slightly closer to home like Dublin, Belfast and Edinburgh. I would like to say that every bank holiday apart from the end of May (being Miss Tweedle-Dumb's birthday which I would be crazy to miss) and Christmas/New Years I would like to get away somewhere. Although with the first Bank Holiday of the Year looming just a fortnight after flying back from Las Vegas I will have little time to hatch a plan of action. I was thinking of maybe even packing a bag and heading straight to the airport to pick up a cheap flight anywhere and just going for a mad spontaneous binge getaway. 

However in order to do this I must take action. I must be proactive in my search for adventure with the view to seek out fun and delve into the unknown. You see, after Mr. Workaholic left I was completely empty. I had no purpose in life and nothing to get up for in the morning but to go to work, with the odd occasion of escaping wretched Northampton to come back home and get drunk with friends just to take the pain away from the heartbreak. Slowly I have come round to the idea that I need to explore, not only myself but others and new things. I feel that I am now, partly because of Mr. Workaholic, that I am a commitment-phobe, megalomaniac who gets bored very easily. 

Maybe this is another one of my Quarterly-Life-Crisis', but of late my toes have been chillier than ever, although they are now starting to thaw out after someone surprised me with just some simple affections and kind gestures. Sometimes you can be so wrapped up in something or an idea about what you want to do, that you loose sight of just how good you have got it. Things in my head recently have become clouded and as a result I have felt trapped and in need of escape, which probably explains the thoughts of travelling and exploration I have day-dreamt about at my desk. There is only one way out from the situation I find myself, and I know, from experience, it will not be pretty or easy but it is something that may well have to be done. When or even if is another kettle of Koi Carp. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fright Night!

Bonjour!

So this week in Blighty it was Halloween - That magical time of year where, as a women, you can dress like a slut and get away with it. But horror struck much before all hallows eve for me as a shock email sent me spinning into somewhere very, very dark! Completely unprepared I was, just packing up my desk on a Thursday evening ready for another shift at my second job when something pinged in my inbox. Subject line being 'My dearest friend' and from the wonderful Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I opened it quickly, already anxious to make my connection. Reading my mouth gaped open, shivers down my spine and a chill coming over me I felt the full force of the unprepared tidal wave hit me. Mr. Cheese was home!

Adrenaline gushing I snatched my bag and left the office already dialling the Tweedle's numbers to discuss this further. Reading the email back in my head, over and over and over again. "Do not call him! Do not message him! Do not contact him!" were the grave words of warning from my closest of friends. I knew I shouldn't and in my heart I knew I wouldn't do any of those things but a part of me was knocked me over when I heard the news. Question is, how did this happen? Mr. Cheese wasn't meant to be back for at least another six weeks. Why was he home so soon? Did he hate it? Does he have Ebola? Is his family OK, are they hurt? All these pondering's whirling through my brain rushing in every direction. I couldn't make sense of it all and as I reached the bus stop I struggled to see clearly and thought I may faint. What am I going to do? I am completely unprepared for this! Am I over Mr. Cheese?! I should be, but am I? What happens if he calls me? What happens if he has changed his mind about us like I so wish he had before and wants to give us another go, because obviously lets face it I am incredible? What will I do!? 

As the caller answered I spoke in hurried tones as I was abruptly told to calm the fuck down, relax and forget about it. As far as I was concerned Mr. Cheese was still on his Gaaap Yaaar to Ghana having pictures with lesbian-esk Germans. It didn't matter whether he was five-thousand miles away or five-miles away; If he wanted me and really cared about me he would have shown it by now. Besides didn't I have so many other better things in life to focus on that silly boys with heads!? Yes. Las Vegas was nearly to be paid for (Well the flights at least), I was doing well at both of my jobs and I had a good thing going with my social-life balancing act. Panic subsiding but not fully aborted I let Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee get back to work. Scatting in the numbers across my keypad I called someone for the very first time. Answering the phone I was taken aback with the girlish, childlike voice. Confirming who it was I blurted it out. 

"He's Back!" I spilled, continuing without as little as a breath into the blathering's in my head. I was soon halted in my tracks but an unfamiliar voice with a familiar caller ID. In agreement with my best friends I knew that Mr. Warehouse was right too about what I should do, or shouldn't do as the case may be. Suffice to say the evening ended better than it had began and after work I consoled myself in the best way a human can be consoled with a little TLC. Well that and a Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky! 

And so as the weekend finally arrived and Halloween morning I woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed I crowned my head with cat ears and painted on my nose. Today was Friday. Today was Friday the 31st October. Which only meant one thing! Dress down Friday was going fancy dress; Halloween Style! Strutting my style I hailed a bus into work with some odd looks. Arriving into work I was met with a few gasps and giggles along with a multitude of comments about pussy. I even scared one workman coming into the office out of his skin. Haha, obviously not a cat person! Unfortunately though I had forgotten both my tail and whiskers and so wasn't wholly Kitty! I did however have that Friday Feline! (Is it bad how I just laughed at my own joke!)

And so as the moon rose on Friday out came the infamous fancy dress box and I transformed into my second outfit of the evening - A Fallen Angel! Messy back-combed hair, dark lipstick and a studded dog collar I felt about fifteen again and despite resembling something like my mother I knew I was way hotter! Necking a few odd tasting cocktails and surrounded by a dead 1920's flapper girl, the zombie cheerleaders and a couple of werewolves I looked around the country pub. It was ironically dead and after taking one look around me my date and I decided to ditch this joint. So when no one was looking we snuck away into the fresh Autumnal air. Dancing all the way home with what appeared to be a very tired Mr. Warehouse chasing after me I conquered a roundabout, played hide-and-go-peek in a few bushes and even fell through the front door trying to let myself in. Suffice to say that I was a little bit drunk and that work the following day would not be welcome. Saturday sauntered by at a leisurely pace and by the sun set on what seemed to be a wonderfully sunny day I dove into my treasure chest again in search of a fairytale I had longed to be for a while. Snow White! As the partying began with work colleagues and friends I felt every bit the princess I was dressed as, but a little someone was about to show me just how much of a princess I was to them! 

And so I divulge to you all a little secret I have kept. A secret that even innocent Snow White herself would have struggled to keep. Something that will probably come as no shock to those that know me. Words are failing me right now to be sweet and fluffy about this so I shall just come out and say it: Mr. Warehouse and I have slept together!

Not once or twice whilst on a drunken fumble. A few times. Nine times last weekend alone. This weekend we lost count and we weren't even in each others company that long?! Throughout the past week I don't think there is a subject of the sexual language we have not scoped. There have been toys and showers, dressing up and getting down, not to mention the multitude of positions we have got through in the very short amount of time. Hell I can't even remember the last time I had so much fun in the bedroom it physically wore me out to the point of being sore! I mean I know I was settling when with Mr. Cheese but now I know just how much I was selling myself out by! I mean good lord of the heavens above me (which actually is not true since God, Jesus Christ our Saviour and all manor of other religious celebrities do not exist - Science out-ways religion. Fact). What was I thinking even considering being with Mr. Cheese. For nearly a whole year I put up with the constant mind-games and torturous train journeys back home from London just wondering why I felt like such shit when I should have been so blissfully happy even a man with a chainsaw couldn't make me sad. 

Lying there Sunday morning cradled like I was supposed to be I felt at ease. Peaceful and happier than I had been in months I started to wonder why I had been fighting this for so long. Mr. Warehouse definitely wasn't the most attractive man I have ever dated. He wasn't the most intelligent nor was he the most financially endowed. But what he lacked in simple material un-necessaries he more than made up for with wit, humour, fun, tickles, cuddles and all-round freshness which up until a few weeks ago I had lacked ever since Mr. Workaholic left. I never thought that I would find someone who would cherish me in such a way again, prioritise me above everything else and make me feel as if I was worth it. Simple things like making a cup of coffee for me and little pecks on the cheek reminded me over the course of the weekends we have spent in each others company that maybe if I just allowed myself to be happy again that it might just happen. Sex should be fun and at twenty-three that's just what it is. Fun. Not regimented. Not after four episodes of David Attenborough and a Chiswick Ice-cream. Just Fun. Tickles, that turn into kisses, that turn in to fumbles that eventually turn into happy and contented sighs as we lay spooning, in which I have missed this past year ... Alot! 

Now don't get me wrong, Mr. Cheese was great and my time spent with him was absolutely blisteringly and blindingly brilliant at times with some memories I shall hold dear to me forever. But it is time to move on. And move on I shall. Move onto Mr. Warehouse? Who knows but one thing is for sure and that is I am happy when I have him around ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Number Nine!

Well Hello Everybody, 

I hope you have all been well. I have not unfortunately and as explained last week I have been struck down by what seemed to be a bit of a cold. Nevertheless on with the show ... 

Slipping on my heeled boots and cramming my daisy print jumper for later into my Ted Baker handbag I hurriedly whizzed our the door. Eight or nine? I couldn't remember but either was I was buzzing, if slightly tired from the night before and my now subsiding cold. Fearing being late for my date I wondered how long it had actually been since our first date. Waiting in the designated spot I had done more than two-months prior I awaited my Date's arrival, soon enough though he was there. As Mr. ToyBoy and I embraced conversation immediately turned to his hangover and the fact that the night began as an 'only one drink' affair. I struggled to sympathise but found myself being cast back to a last weekend in all its messiness. 

Walking along the packed out, cobbled streets of Bedford Town centre on what was a very busy Saturday afternoon I felt as if I was waiting desperately for something good to come up in conversation. "I don't remember it being this dry the first time round?" I thought to myself for the second time so far that day. However entering the West London inspired Coffee House I revelled in the fact that we would now have each others sole attention. Seating at the same table we had first encountered each other at nearly nine weeks ago I looked at an attractive face I knew would just be another one to add to the hall of infamy. Tall, dark and handsome Mr. ToyBoy encompassed all the things I looked for in a potential boyfriend - Nice set of teeth. Good shoes. Hair I can run my fingers through and maybe grab a little tuft once in a while and a beautiful set of deep brown eyes that I just want to fall into. Unfortunately conversation ebbed to a point in which he ended up checking the football scores and I wondered as to when I can let this one go. I had already been with someone that was obsessed with sports, I didn't need another. 

Staring out at Mr. ToyBoy over my iced Vanilla Chai milkshake (It was sooo good) I wondered how big his dick was. I know alright, I'm a shallow, terrible person but once you have encountered something as unreliable as public transport then you will know where I am coming from. I understand that size doesn't matter and that sex is only a small part of a relationship but to me it is more than that. It has to be fun and whimsical and entertaining. For too long I have had to suffer and it's about time I got what I wanted! Needless to say as I smiled cheekily at the bubbles in my milkshake as my date twittered on about Game of Thrones my mind wandered to fantasies including classical music blaring from speakers as I reached my first orgasm. Images of him throwing me over coffee tables, my bare arse being splintered as he held me in place, taking me whilst I screamed out in a pleasure infused scream. After controlling myself and bringing my smirk back around to a more serious, grown up conversation about the Illuminati of which I still don't fully follow, understand or even to be quite frank care about, I realised that this was not going to be something I could fully invest in any way. Mr. ToyBoy, whilst older in appearance and as adorably fucking hot as he is, unfortunately won't be the one to take off my garter! At least I doubt it anyway - I mean lets not rule it out! 

A combination of being too young, still in college with prospects of university as well as completely unable to be financially savvy brought me to the conclusion that this would probably never work out how I would like it. Yes he probably had a big willy and yes he was probably (And even if he wasn't I would make him) good in bed, but I need more than that? Don't I? Ascetically I could not fault the lad, I had palpation's just looking at him, but would he make me feel like a Queen, I doubted it. Uhh! But he was such a good kisser as well! As I asked the Barista for a duplicate order I cast my mind back to long, soft make-out sessions, gently nibbling each others lips with our tongues exploring the unknown under a stormy August afternoon sun. I was getting moist at the thought of it. But alas, it was never meant to be. As we parted and went our separate ways I knew we would still keep in contact. Friends maybe. Just missing the benefits part! Maybe we will pick it up sometime, but then again maybe not. But rest assured I wont be lonely for long. Somehow, leaving dearest Mr. ToyBoy at the bus stop to be a bus-wanker home, I knew that I wouldn't be too saddened for long. Hey, there is plenty more fish in the sea right? But maybe I need to stop looking in the sea and start looking a little closer to home ... 

You see, as I am sure you are well aware there has been an increasing romance and somewhat tension struggle that is between myself and a fellow work colleague, Mr. Warehouse but I have started to allow history repeat itself and at present I am now in the elastic band state of mind - Constantly being stretched mentally between wanting to be in Mr. Warehouse's company all the time and also wanting to be single and having the freedom to do as I please when I please it and with who I please (Or more-so how they please me but that is by the by). Pinging between the two has been somewhat exhausting not to mention being ill also. Its complicated I know, but I almost feel as if I haven't moved very far from this time last year when I was constantly battling my head and my heart around the whole Mr. Cheese saga. And I haven't exactly made things easy for myself this week either. 

These feelings however and in particular the bond I have with Mr. Warehouse is very, very different indeed to what I had and probably still have with Mr. Cheese. Up on my pedestal I sit, looking down I realise that over the past few weekends I have spent with Mr. Warehouse, I have had more laughs and giggles and simply childish fun with him than I have ever had with anyone since Mr. Workaholic. Playful tickles, cuddles and stolen moments all add up and are slowly contributing to the way I feel overall about him. I never saw his flaws and I am slowly getting my head around the things that I originally could not deal with. The fact I didn't and still to a certain extent at times don't find him attractive in the conventional sense is starting to become less of an issue. He likes me for me. Not who I want to be nor who I will become but everything I am right here and now. He doesn't like some of the things I do and say sometimes but that the same with everyone. 

The thing is that Mr. Warehouse is very much like my father and as a result, in fact as far as scientific and psychological research goes (That is my Psychology and Science A-Levels speaking!), women find men resembling and embodying qualities and aesthetics of their fathers, attractive and appealing. But its more that all those things. He is the one person I can just be ridiculous with, the one person I can laugh and joke about with and the one person that will still find me attractive despite my messy morning hair, panda eyes and pale-sickly-flu-face. Scary thing is though is that there are two words that are coming up more and more often. The. One. 

Could it be? Maybe? I don't know? It scares the fuck out of me to think that it might be and that this might be it, my husband for ever and ever 'until death do us part' and all that malarkey but I know deep down that I am not completely intolerant to the idea. Mr. Warehouse has the most wonderfully loud, colourful and extravagant family I can ever think I have met and one that I wouldn't wholly disapprove of entering but those two little words are a big deal, especially at just twenty-three. But after a discussion with my Father yesterday over what was an orgasmic Sunday Roast Dinner I discovered that he was only a year older than I am now when he married my mother. And it got me really thinking. What would happen if I just let go of being cautious and scared of loosing everything. What happens if I just forget all the hurt and those stupid guys in the past that quite frankly will never in the rest of this earth's life cycle meet someone as amazing, funny, brilliant, witty and spectacularly incredible as me. What happens if maybe I gave it a chance to grow? 

Spookier things have happened. And with Halloween almost upon us I can only dream of what hellish and gorey scenes will poison my memory next week as I take to my fancy dress box and don a cute yet slutty outfit in preparation for the best time of year - Halloween!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx