Work Hard, Play Hard!

Afternoon All, 

I hope you are all well and toasty where you are currently as here in Britain we are in a teeth-chatteringly cold snap to which I hope ends soon. I wish that I could just make like a door-mouse sometimes and just hibernate until spring arrives. Safe to say that in the first week of February, winter now officially sucks!

What doesn't suck though is working at a call centre with no rewards for nearly half a year. Of course I am joking with this one. Working at the call centre day in, day out, week after week with nothing to show for my hard work is taking its toll. So far I have saved up a fair chunk and am now not only hitting triple figures but very nearly quadruple digits in my 'Vegas Fund' bank balance. I am sure that with now less that six-weeks to go before I board my British Airways flight bound for Sin City (Floppy fedora and oversized sunglasses accompanying me) and with even less weeks worth of working I am sure looking forward to getting back to a normal life of coming home after work and still seeing the sun. 

In all honesty working at the call centre isn't all horrific crackly lines and being hung up on. In several instances it has been a very enjoyable time and one of which my day has been made between the hours of 5.30pm and 9pm. I am grateful of course to whomever decides that they would like to complete a call with me but even more so if they can have a laugh and maybe a cheeky flirt with me too. 

On one occasion, only a few weeks into my job I called a business address by mistake and upon answering a gruff Scottish voice answered in testosterone tones. After sadly confirming it was a business line I was asked a question that took me by such surprise I ended up fabricating a complete lie and feeling chuffed about the response. 
"Ohh, Waait. Before yee goh Miss can I ask yeez a question?" The manly Scot asked (Spelt as said in his thick northern accent). Humouring him I agreed to answer, praying it wasn't something lude or vulgar. 
"Aare yuh maarried? Cas tha' vooice o' yours is prrroper seexy. I'd marry yuh ... " My masculine caller purred down the phone. Trying my best to answer in a polite and professional manner I thanked the gentleman and swiftly put down the phone before having to take a moment to compose myself and gather my scatty thoughts. I had never, nor have I ever been someone to fall for a Scotsman before, but I could somehow imagine him beefed up slightly only wearing jeans a size too small and a hard hat in some sort of hot, sweaty, oily construction site, surrounded by his equally hot and seductive friends. 

Another call I took once was from a man who played with me throughout the call and answered my questions promptly and productively only for me to get to the end of the call and I then had to take his email address for contact purposes. Jotting it down the now familiar voice asked down the phone for me to read it - but only in my head. I read it back to him phonetically as I clocked what was happening - 'sean sports therapist' was part of his email address (obviously would not disclose all of it ... you might all email him) but when written down correctly and as I had taken it it looked like a very VERY different sentence (Take out the spaces in 'sports therapist' and you'll see what I mean). Shocked and at a loss for words my caller immediately realised what had just happened and apologised profusely throughout the rest of the conversation and explaining many, many times that he was not what it looked like. All in all he calmly, although sheepishly finishing off by letting me know that I had his email address and that I could contact him any time. Although it probably breached some sort of data protection I did email him and to my surprise he seemed like a very nice lovely man in his mid-late twenties, clearly buff from all the 'sports therapist' work he had been doing. 

I think it is those sorts of calls that make the shifts go faster. I mean sure I will have days where I want to hang myself with the phone line because some grandma has a problem with me calling at 5.43pm because Countdown is on or that a Londoner "just simply does not have time" but there are also the funny people that make my adrenaline run sky high when they are yelling, quite literally, down the line before I have even introduced myself. One women thought that my questions (I work in Market Research call centre if you hadn't already guessed) were far too personal - I had asked her whether Boris Johnson was a good mayor of London - And so proceeded to interview me asking if I was a lesbian and if I fancied having sex with a girl. Another women wailed down the phone that her dog had died because the phone rang and he had a heart attack and she was just too distressed to talk to me right now. 

Some of them are hilarious. Including the ones where the person on the other end of the phone is doing something completely unorthodox whilst you twitter on about lifestyle choices and the war in Syria. I have spoken to several people on the toilet who have either half way through or ended the call by allowing me to hear them flush, or worse, deposit their contents. One man was even in the bath and after openly telling me it was a good time to call he continued to splish and splash about and make me fully aware that he was in the tub. The funny thing is, as when someone is on hands-free whilst driving, you can hear the echoey sounds of the water closet. You may think it a secret and nobody knows, but we know alright when your taking a dump and answering some questions on your poor customer service of late. 

And that is the joy of working in a call centre. Asking the questions and getting the answers that everyone wants to know. On the front-line of hard hitting studies and surveying I class myself as a fully equipped and well trained soldier, fighting the war on hanging up the phone and lies of being too busy. I am the Queen when it comes to Telephone work. That is all I have for you today, thank you and goodbye ... *Booooooooop* <--- Call ending tone.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town!

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas, 

So this week after the debauchery and revelry of last weekend's pub visit I am now writing to you from a suspiciously quite flat containing myself and my two cousins whom are in bed and seem to be drifting off nicely. And after a shattering day of running round after children and catering to their needs as well as catching up on chores I am ready for bed too. Alas however I have yet to tell tales of wonder and merriment as Christmas arrived. 

Sitting round the table, adorned with scraps of wrapping paper, glitter and glasses of water nobody really wanted I began to feel a little more in the Christmas spirit of things. After getting fed up of wrapping the night before and feeling like I may have a flu on the way I had been struggling to make sure everything went swimmingly. But this was not my Christmas Day dinner. Oh No, this was the pre-Christmas catch up that Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Stuu and I do every year and this year we were joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee's little brother who in retrospect is not so little now after turning just twenty-one, I think?! The pub was not selected as a venue this year, and thankfully no ex's crashed the party either. Instead we descended on a little American-esk diner just outside of Dunstable and ate until we were ready to puke. A short meet-up, with no drinking or shots (a disappointment to most I feel) however I knew that I would see them all soon, my Tweedles especially. After bidding a farewell to them all I left for the station, presents such as my beloved selfie stick, inflatable crown and yes, a Starbucks Giftcard in toe; And, whilst that evening I, exhausted, fell asleep knowing that in only a few hours I would have to do it all again! 

Christmas Eve was a manic one at work. It was the first Christmas Eve I had ever worked and to my surprise was pleasant and jovial. The phone barely rang and every sentence was followed almost by a chocolate. So. Much. Chocolate. Nevertheless we all sat on tender-hooks, waiting for the call to say we could leave for the day. And after the last Samosa had been polished off (my manager brought them in for us, deliciously hot and potato-ey) we got the call we had all been waiting for. Tightly bundling into the small run-about myself and five work colleagues headed into town for some celebratory drinks before heading home to our families, with no need to see each other until the New Year. However whilst a couple of drinks were the intention, I had consumed more than a couple of bottles before I left the pub. A good five hours of drinking Rose wine had not stead me in a good way, especially since I was now running somewhat late for my dinner with Dad and that now it was also dark outside. Pissed as a fart I stumbled up to my Papa's car, carrying yet more wine and some Beef Jerky for snacking on. Ordering Chinese and settling down in front of the fire after was a luxury and as I slowly sobered up I decided that I should get an early night for Santa would be coming down the chimney shortly and delivering me not only a few nice presents but also a nervous boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse, to my Father's door to spend Christmas day with us. Haha, indeed - Let the festivities begin. 

After spending nearly six more Christmas' fixing my eyelashes into place and feeling like I could create a twister with a blink I crept downstairs carefully, wary that, even though I am twenty-three, Mr. Claus may be hiding somewhere and just ambush me, jumping out at any given moment, making me both cry and loath the yule-tidings. A ignominious Eggs Benedict awaited and after that a nice Irish coffee to stimulate the senses. Soon it was present time and after unwrapping all of mine, a pile which seems to get smaller the older I get, whilst others get larger I could help but wonder as to my last present. A crudely cut out snowflake on some orange card revealing inside that I was getting a new freezer from Santa (and in part my father). Grateful though I was I later learnt that I could have possibly had one second hand, thus sparing some pennies for more presents, but I was beyond caring at this point; I can now have ice cream! Welcome to my humble home Ben, and Jerry. 

As the hours twinkled by in a mass of cooking, idle chit-chat and yet more wine pouring I greeted my grandparents as they arrived, baring gifts also as well as my Grandmother and Grandfather's married-life humour. Watching my elders waddle in and take seats, grumbling politely to one another I knew that one day I would have that. And if after fifty-years together with someone you can't have a laugh together then you might as well give up! I admire my Nana and Granddad, they are the epitome of what I expect and indeed want from a marriage, and at Christmas it is never far from my mind exactly how I would want my own Festive Holidays being spent. 

Just as I finished unwrapping my reems and reems of underwear and socks from the oldies (which in all fairness I needed) there was a buzz. It was Mr. Warehouse. And after going to the wrong door he was now en route to my side, thus saving me from poor jokes and a afternoon of lassitude. Rushing upstairs to perfect my Mrs. Claus outfit and smoothing over my curls I took another swig of pink juice before answering the door to a very, very tense Mr. Warehouse. Waving off his brother who had kindly given him a lift we skipped indoors to the warmth. Barely through the door Mr. Warehouse was knocked for six with hugs and kisses as well as a sturdy handshake from my Dad and Granddad. I could tell the nerves were beginning to subside and slowly within a few moments he was himself again. Whispering in my ear as we were seated for dinner, Mr. Warehouse mentioned the fact that the outfit was not only a turn on but also a massive tease and that I was to wait until I was back home at his that night so he could unwrap me himself. Exciting as that was, I was starting to get drunk again and as my Papi and Mr. Warehouse told me to curb my drinking I could not stop. I loved it, the floppy feel of everything and the looseness of my joints. I couldn't help but laugh and giggle my way through the rest of the day, even through an slightly awkward appearance from my uncle and cousin from my mothers side popping in to say 'Hello' and give me a little something towards my Vegas/New Years Eve fund! 

As we arrived back to home to Mr. Warehouse's home he shared with his mother I was barely through the door myself when I was greeted by a huge encapsulating cuddle that took me quite by surprise. After not having very much, if any at all, contact from my mother I was not used to such embraces from other females. I was glad of it regardless and enjoyed the short burst of affection. I was promptly thrust a gift I had somewhat forgotten about from Momma Warehouse. Opening it she explained how she had noticed I left some pyjamas here some weeks ago and that she saw some fluffy ones I may like. Bright pink and with white rabbits on I soon come to the conclusion Mr. Warehouse's Mom had bought me a onesie for Christmas. Thrilled I promised to wear it to bed tonight and put it to one side as Mr. Warehouse brought out a bag. As I ushered for my Mr. Warehouse to open his he declined and forwardly asked to watch me open mine. After weeks of speculation, guessing, probing and even a little bit of sneaking we were finally about to discover the secrets that we both held. 

My presents included a mammoth Vanilla Cupcake Yankee Candle and a gargantuan, sea-blue dressing gown which now makes me look like the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. But then the big guns came out and after packing everything away and looking for the next bottle of wine to open I was handed a familiar white bag, sealed with a pink ribbon. Opening my Pandora bag I fondled not one but two velvety silk bags, rich and deep purple in colour. Opening them both I allowed the contents to spill into my palms. Two silver charms tumbled out into my hands and as I gasped I was made aware that there should have been a third and that when Mr. Warehouse got paid again he would buy me the third part of my present, completing the set. Adorable and filled with hot emotion I hugged it out and purred about how wonderful the gifts were. Snuggled on the couch and with the night closing in, our eyes beginning to fall shut, Mr. Warehouse and I succumbed to the bedsheets, but not before making sure another sack was emptied. 

Boxing Day was busy, with most of the day spent in the kitchen, tending to oven finger food and preparing canapés, not to mention baking cupcakes and Brownies. Mr. Warehouse's brothers and their families took over as did their children as well as Momma Warehouse's new Beau, nicknamed by the children as the 'Jolly Green Giant' after stretching over six-foot tall and with a gut looking as though he was eight-and-a-half months pregnant you could tell how apt it was. Soon though it was time for bed and no sooner had my head hit the pillow, myself and Mr. Warehouse were snoozing away - Until Mr. Warehouse that is snores and I have to jab him with something sharp. You see unlike when Miss Tweedle-Dumb, or even on the odd occasion Miss Tweedle-Dee snores, whereby I mutter something and they silence; With Mr. Warehouse I could place his slumbering sole onto the Syrian front-line and he still wouldn't halt his snores. So much so I am kind of looking forward to a night without the interruptions. But then again, I do have to think about not waking up next to him. And then there is the early morning with my cousins?! Oh No! Here's hoping they will stay in bed a little longer tomorrow and let Cuzz lye-in?! Wishful thinking eh ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Too Selfish for Childbearing Right Now!

Hello there everybody, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Flirting With Feminism ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx

Hello Again, 

Bidding my grandmother a farewell as she drove off I chuckled to myself about her lasting phrase. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" She would always tell me and as principal I had always taken it as a mantra. You see my Grandma was somewhat a modern lady in herself, fully comfortable discussing programmes on telly we had both watched about prostitution and escorting, the occasional swear word and even the odd frolic on a bouncy castle. Yes, my grandma was a character. Shuffling around in my bag for my purse I walked into the train station and bought my normal ticket to London. I was off to see Mr. Cheese and after retelling the story of our first date (And So The Battle Commences ...) and visiting the same place where we first ignited a fondness I was more than keen to see him. 

However it seems that it was not only Mr. Cheese's attention I was grabbing as dusk fell on the Big Smoke. Boarding the underground my music paused. Although peeved at first it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Waltzing onto the Tube, my long legs were out in full force only topped off by my new, high-heeled buckle ankle boots teamed with a short pleated metallic skirt and cute jumper, I took note of a male audience. The four rowdy twenty-somethings were clamouring for my attention as I sat opposite them in the carriage, however I was unaware at this point frustrated that Avicii was no longer blessing my ears. Sunglasses shading my eyes from gaze, the men clearly had noticed my arrival and commenced with the standard comments you would expect from such creatures. Comments included smashing several of my doors in and also some choice phrases about, I quote; "What a nice bit of fluff" I have on me. I hoped they were talking about the flaming orange hair I have been sporting since before Christmas but I know that they meant a differing kind of fluff! I wasn't shamed by it though and took pleasure in their comments and boyish jokes, even smiling at several of them. As I unknowingly scooped my hair off my made up face whilst trying to shoo away a cheekily smug grin one of the lads had made some banter about how "She definitely wants it if she's playing with her hair". I couldn't hold out any longer and the smile broke into my rosy cheeks. Noticing they upped the ante with remarks on my weekend bag being full of filthy toys and sexual instruments. In actual fact my day-old ham and mustard sandwich, book on a psychopath and Monday morning work-wear couldn't have been further from the truth, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to spoil their memoir of moi. As they left the train the other passengers let go a sigh of relief, however I was almost saddened at their final departure as now I should have to continue my journey with no flirty gestures from naughty boys. 

Now I must stress that whilst that may all sound vulgar and hideous that a women in the 21st century cannot board the underground without being harassed by men that fully sympathise that sometimes it goes too far and that yes there is a line where enough is enough and should be stopped. But I am about as far away from a feminist as can possibly be. I like the idea that whilst I have a loving boyfriend waiting for me in a pub beer garden somewhere in West London I still have a sex appeal that can lure men in. I love flirting with people of all ages, shapes and genders. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I love it. I take joy in being told I have "nice fluff" and that I am hot. In fact going on my first hen party a few weeks ago taught me exactly how hunter-esk us women can be. We are powerful individuals with an allure that incites men in. I love the charm I possess and at times it can be a great advantage. In the modern world you don't get many compliments and so when a builder with an overhang and a crack as bad as the one he is filling in on the masonry wolf-whistles at me I enjoy it for what it is - A compliment. I see nothing wrong with a bit of playful back-and-fourth between the sexes. It keeps things fun and fresh. If anything I think a small part of me likes the dominating side I have, even though I know when it comes down to it I love being overpowered and overruled by a strong independent male. I have always joked at how I fit more into the nineteen-fifties way of the world, where a women knew her place and stuck to it. 

However on the flip-side, I fully respect that I cherish what I do have in the year 2014. Women can vote, have an education and even drive cars now (apparently) all things which fill me with pride and honour. I am glad I am a women now and feel even more empowered knowing I have just as much if not sometimes even more right as a man to do things. Although I feel that as a women we should respect ourselves a little more not to go out dressed as a hooker (unless fancy dress calls for such an occasion) I as a women should be able to go about my daily life without being constantly harassed or shamed for dressing a certain way. And it goes to show that the majority of people feel the same way. Just because a girl or women is wearing a short skirt or revealing top does not mean she is gagging for it, in need of it or indeed deserving of it, with the 'it' being unwanted attention in the form of gropes, grabs or in extreme circumstances rape. A women, or indeed a man, should have the freedom to walk down the street wearing nothing at all without having to worry about being sexually assaulted. I should be free to do as I please without being tormented or bullied into a sexual act. Of course everyone feels pressure from the other sex, both men and women, but I think that is all part of growing up and not only teaching others but to teach yourself where that line is and when to say no, enough is enough. 

After my stint on the tube with my London-lovers I tottled out of Goldhawk station with one thing on my mind. Toilet! I desperately needed a wee however was meant to be meeting Mr. Cheese and his fit flatmate in less than a few minutes. I made the decision to pop to the Costa across the street and relieve myself before returning to the spot I left moments earlier. Whilst in the coffee shop thrown room Mr. Cheese had rang me several times. Not wanting him to hear me gush I shut it off. Outside the tube station entrance I scrambled in my bag once more as my mobile buzzed with excited tone as Mr. Cheese tried to call me yet again. Answering this time, I put on a sexy voice only to be playfully yelled at in response. "Get on that bus!" Mr. Cheese threatened and even before I had a chance to answer back the iconic red double-decker pulled up along side me in traffic. Screaming back as I teetled along in my new heels that my boyfriend was making me run for public transport I boarded and joined him and the flatmate upstairs, much to the happiness that I had pleased both of their peepers with my ensemble. 

We decided to go for dinner soon after we got back to the flat in West London and settled on a place well-known in the area as the place to get ice-cream. A favourite haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's we had been going there ever since I first graced Chiswick back in late summer last year. Never had we stayed for dinner though as somewhere had always looked more appetising. Following instructions of the boyfriends flatmate we all sat at a table and ordered. I never noticed I was flirting but I suppose in a way I was looking back on it. Not even knowing it, I shared my dinner with the flatmate and even shared a few girlish giggles too. I was charmed by his love of Arctic Monkeys and horror flicks but my being was all of Mr. Cheese's and he knew that. Or did he? As I engaged in conversation with the fit flatmate I noticed someone else getting very tall and broad! Was this jealousy I was seeing? Was my boyfriend, the very man whom invented the phrasing of chest-wig, was he a little bit threatened? I think he was! Taking note of the hand rubbing, arm round my shoulder, constant pecks and kisses, thigh touching and his increasingly puffed-up chest I felt both amorous but also slightly awkward given the situation already. Food arriving we ate and continued in our merriment scoffing and laughing well into the evening. 

Arriving back at the flat later on, the T.D.H (Tall, Dark and Handsome) flatmate left me and the Cheese to it and with an almost instant ignition a spark was lit and we were all over each other like a cheap suit. Taking note of our lustiness and being slammed into the corner of the couch I suggested we took it to the bedroom. Laying down on the fresh, comfy sheets I had come to love my mind wondered with thoughts of an exciting and explicit nature. Kisses and touches playful tickles and teases we tried to keep the noise down as we excitedly played with each others bodies. Pausing for a moment amongst all of it I gazed into the blueness of my boyfriend's eyes and wondered where all the passion had come from. I didn't care. The heat and immense passion between us at that point was palpable and something I shall struggle to forget. All I knew was that I loved it and when I climbed on top ready to satisfy us both I was glad to hear that Mr. Cheese said I was hot. I never really see myself as hot. Maybe cute but rarely hot. I took pleasure in that comment as I had done with his hand magic earlier. That night I settled calmly into his chest, knowing that it was the first night of pure intimacy I had felt in a long time. I was in a world of pure bliss. I fought the urge to again, as I always do after sex, to say those three little words. I couldn't help myself. As I whispered "I love You" I thought about what a wonderful situation I am in and that it was silly to think that not that long ago I was contemplating letting it all go. 

If this last weekend is anything to go by then I will have a very fruity post next week. Mr. Cheese and I will be Mini-Breaking in Bristol this weekend, a place I have wanted to go to for ages and somewhere held very close to Mr.Cheese's heart for that is where he partied hard whilst studying for his degree in ancient history. What a clever boffin! And so I shall probably be writing to you from somewhere in the South West of England as I hurtle through the Devonshire countryside on a train back to London or maybe even in London itself. Either way I am sure I will be worn out, exhausted and with many a naughty tale to tell ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Falling Out and Flying High

Hi, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Carrot's Can Help You See In The Dark

Evening everybody, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Fallen Gods Of Tin Foil ...

Hello, 

So after last week's spur of the moment passion with Mr. Cheese I have been rather lonely this week. Its surprising how much you miss someone when they're not texting or emailing you constantly. Obviously I would never tell Mr. Cheese to his face that I missed him and that every moment was a complete drag as I did not have his prose and linguistics to keep me entertained. Well at least not until he says it first! Haha. 

After receiving several emails from Mr. Cheese I am glad to say that whilst I am really enjoying this sudden change in my love life, I am not wholly kean on the idea of a full blown relationship. Besides, if I am brutally honest I still would like to live life as a Singleton. Not in a slaggy way but I enjoy the fact that I can make time for myself, friends and family without having to think what the other-half will think of me spending my time. I'm happy to have Mr. Cheese though don't get me wrong, but the word 'Boyfriend' still scares me. Mr. Cheese and I have discussed this however and we are both happy being as we are with no labels and no stamp to drag us down. But since our discussion I have found myself stumbling upon possibilities and I would not be impartial to the idea now it has been temporarily decided. Not right away though. Don't want to wish away my freedom yet!

But yes I feel myself more accepting of him now than before. Maybe because I am slowly in control of my falling but also because he is sooo different to all of the others? He is not perfect. But then again who is. I sure as hell am not, so why should I expect someone I'm dating to be. I think that ever since Mr. Workaholic and I split I can now see that whilst you may think you have 'The One' and 'Mr. Perfect' they are probably in disguise - A horrible, ogre-like, weedy creature underneath the mask who is horrible to you but all you see is their beauty and perfection. I suppose love really does make you blind! What I think I need is a knight in shining armour, maybe on a zebra steed ... Or just a bumbling buffoon in tin foil that can make me happy. Not much to ask for I think?

Now, as you may know already some of you, it has been a Bank Holiday here in the UK, and for once I actually didn't end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Mainly because Miss Chocolate was packing for a family holiday and Miss Tweedle-Dumb was visiting the boyfriend. Oh and everyone else who had money was off gallivanting to festivals left, right and centre. So that left little old me on my todd wondering what to do this Bank Holiday and after working a long day on Saturday all I wanted was good company and giggles - So I plan a Slumber Party!

After finishing work at eight in the evening I call up my friend Miss Tweedle-Dee and arrange for her to come over to my new place and we can watch scary films, I'll laugh, she'll secretly defecate herself and we'll gossip till the sun comes up - Or until we both get so tired we spoon in my silken bedsheets until we both fall asleep. Boy did we have a good night. After arguing with my games console for not accepting my DVD of a (really awful) horror flick I turned to my laptop to save the day and we snuggled on the sofa to enjoy. So shit was it we ended up talking about more pressing matters like why I can strangely smell a strong scent of sweet, ripening banana's and she cannot. Miss Tweedle-Dee said that it is a common occurrence for the recently deceased to let a loved one know they are with them by injecting the room with a strong smell of something they associate with that person - Although neither of us knew anybody with a strong passion for banana's. So we put this down to the fact that our dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb loathes blackening banana's and that maybe she was dead and was trying to give us a sign. Thankfully Miss Tweedle-Dumb is not dead and is alive and well. 

Sunday morning rolled around and what a better way to wake up than being told you have hideous morning breath by your best-friend, Miss Tweedle-Dee. Hmmm, Like her shit don't stink?! Thinking of things to do we lounged in bed and came up with a brilliant idea to go to a gay bar. Now I am sure that from the amount of Mr's I talk about I am defiantly loving the cock but we thought it would be a good idea since we had heard some good things from people about a couple of local bars. Unfortunately though we both got lazy and couldn't be arsed. Maybe some other time I shall enlighten you all with a story about how I went to a gay bar once and maybe how I was mistaken for a transvestite. Maybe. I hope not that story though. Mind you I do have a habit of getting the best tales from going out and about. Eh, you never know I might bump into the ever promiscuous bi-curious Mr. Workaholic Haha!

And so the rest of the Bank Holiday has passed in a breeze. Apart from Saturday of course - That was great, a chilled out, relaxed but somewhat boring weekend to say the least spent indulging in my love for odd looking comedians and boy bands with long hair that a twenty-something really shouldn't be into. And now it is that I commence my second and final few days without that Cheesey goodness. I have actually been planning our fourth date over the past week and it is coming along splendidly but I shall reveal all in a couple of weeks after we finally go on it as I wouldn't ruin the surprise for you all. Besides, it wont just be the daylight hours I shall be talking about if you know what I mean ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Passion, Persistence and Puke!

Afternoon Everyone, 

So all is well in the world this week. My dilemma essentially has resolved itself as I choose my head over my heart (for once). This has been made maybe slightly easier by the fact that the 'Mystery Man' otherwise now referred to as Mr. Welsh has not been in contact with me since. Although I think that maybe Mr. Cheese may be something worth investigating further - Especially as how things have been ramped up a gear ...

So since our date last week with Mr. Cheese I was struggling with the fact that whilst I tried to tell him through body language that I wasn't comfortable with kissing on a first date he still went in for it and kissed me anyway. Not that it was an awful 'washing machine' experience like some other frogs I have kissed, but as already explained last week was sweet and innocent. We had made plans to meet a week on, however after both Mr. Cheese and I found ourselves at a loose end on Friday night we decided to spend the evening together; And so I had a wonderful evening out in a quaint little Italian restaurant in town. I think the staff could tell we were a 'new pairing' and made all their efforts to make us feel comfortable. Not that I paid much attention to the staff, especially when I have the company of Mr. Cheese rambling on about the appreciation of hats, zebra's and other madness that I thought only I possessed. 

Finally I have found a fellow foodie that doesn't just survive on chicken dinosaurs and potato smiles for breakfast, lunch and frigging dinner like Mr. Workaholic. Although, until your in that position, you never know just how difficult it is to eat a salad gracefully is when the bowl it comes in is lopsided and you have half the Amazon in there too. Desperately trying to cram a forkful of leaves and chicken into your face-hole before your date look's up from his own delicious meal is very hard but I think I got the hang of it. Maybe that's what the staff we smiling about, that funny little women in the corner wrestling with the artistically ridiculous bowl that is completely impractical. Following my wrestling match came an indulgent pudding of Tiramisu and Profiteroles shared with my date, Mr. Cheese. And so there we sat, for once barely saying a thing as we ate our desserts with twinkles in our eyes, slowly licking the spoon and twisting our tongues round a silver fork. As if it couldn't get more intense, Mr. Cheese revealed how one of his siblings would probably be spying from another restaurant across the road, trying to get a glimpse of the action. 

After dinner we made a swift exit hoping not to be caught sight of by Mr. Cheese's brother and made it to the safe haven of a local pub. From the outside it didn't look too busy and so we went in. Sod's law would say that as soon as we walked in it was packed to the rafters and after buying a couple of drinks we spent the rest of the evening there, right up until closing time. We talked thoroughly about everything and anything. But then came the subject of what happened to the 'Ex'. Sweetly and as if not to impose, Mr. Cheese simply hinted at the question so as not to scare or upset me, and, since he himself had opened up about his ex-girlfriend (who sounds like a boring-arse anyhow) I felt compelled to tell him. So for the first time in many, many months I let loose and took myself back to a rainy Friday evening in April last year when my world caved in on itself. I didn't cry, although I did feel very emotional and I think I would have if I had not stopped at certain parts of the story. 

At that moment most men I would have expected to pop on their running shoes and make a swift dash for the exit but Mr. Cheese did not. He stayed put. He comforted me with wise words on how, as I had always hoped, that Mr. Workaholic had lost the best thing that ever happened to him. So sweet we sat in that beer garden surrounded by very loud, drunken, middle-aged people and we talked away for hours. It almost seemed that everyone else just melted away and we were the only two in the world. I loved it. Everything was so relaxed and laid back. My worries of getting serious and falling were suddenly gone and both Mr. Cheese and I agreed that we liked things how they were and not to change them until we were both ready. 

After last orders were called I invited him back to mine where we simply kissed and he called a cab. And that was it, but for some odd reason my bed felt comfier that night, softer than ever before and I fell into a deep sleep. Saturday morning came and went as I passed most of the day lounging in bed listening to old songs thinking about the future with someone other than my Mr. Workaholic. It then suddenly dawned on me. I was thinking about sex. But not just general sex, I was thinking about soft and passionate embraces, lust-filled and exciting with someone other than my Ex! Oh what a feeling it is to realise you are now free from his wretch'ed face! Nevertheless I had to get up at some point as I was meant to be joining Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb on a night out with an old acquaintance of theirs, Miss Stuu. Sadly though we never made it to the planned night out as both me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had subsequently redecorated the inside of Miss Stuu's mothers car. I have never felt guilt like it and both me and the Tweedle's were in bed by ten that night.  

Sunday morning broke and it suddenly dawned on me that date number three is on the horizon. I checked my phone as it bleeped with four messages from what appeared to be a very, very intoxicated Mr. Cheese. Laughing along with Miss Tweedle-Dumb we set a time where we would both be able to make some sort of recovery. Making the journey back to Bedford with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, stopping en-route for a burger from a fast food chain the conversation soon turned to relationships and where things were destining for me and my Cheesey friend, although thankfully I was able to just shrug it off with a few simple answers, although in my head I hoped that maybe in the future something good would come of me muddling up my bridges and meeting that quirky Mr. Cheese.

Arriving home I changed, showered and beautified myself before spending the late afternoon wandering round the parks and rivers of Bedford with Mr. Cheese on our third date. A wonderful afternoon, only to be topped off with a fiery evening of making out on my sofa. It could have gone a lot further if I wanted it. Hell, it could have gone all the way if I hadn't kept cool and collected. Although I would be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed that we didn't fall asleep together that night. It sounds so simple when writing that we just made out - But for nearly three hours he made me feel like a million dollars. Sweet kisses to my neck and bust made me giddy with excitement and anticipation. I had not felt like that in years and can barely remember a time when Mr. Workaholic had made me feel so wanted. Although just as the passion was taking a hold and the intense sexual chemistry hit a peak whilst Mr. Cheese and I straddled one another on the floor kissing madly I murdered the moment by asking when the last train was. Probably should have kept quiet given the heat of the moment. I didn't want him to miss the last train back to London where he lives though and in all honestly wanted to wait for a few more dates until I 'put out'.

And so Mr. Cheese left. Although this time there shall be a long gap between our next encounters since the jammy bastard is off on a fortnight long, all expenses paid, family holiday  to the hot and luscious islands of Greece. Well I think Greece is an island? (Hmmm) So now I wait and think about what could have been but also of what might be. Where will this go and will it end like last time? I shall have to wait and see, but I am positive that Cupid has well and truly got us with his arrow ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

All But Dream's ...

Hello All,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Muchas Gracias ...

Hi Everyone,
 
My goodness what a week. Exhausting and stressful but glad that I am able to reveal all to you now. You will be pleased to hear that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are not burnt to a crisp but heavily tanned, although much to their dismay 'The Peel' as it is now refered to has started. So after leaving you last week in stiflingly hot Majorca I am now safely back in the UK, but not without our fair share of problems let me tell you that ...
 
I found Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb by the pool still sunning themselves trying to cram as much tan-time as possible and after a brief disagreement we started to get ready for the transfer coaches arrival. Boarding the coach and finding our seats we appreciated the on-board air conditioning. Bumbling around the local towns and hotels picking up tourists I began listening to a Belfast family and willingly allowed their accents to bless my ears. That is until a well-bronzed, middle-aged couple got on board and started rustling their travel documents. Upset at their rudeness I gazed out the window at the setting sun over Spanish wasteland. I started to day dream of meeting the perfect Irishman in a bar; Tall, dark and handsome with a thick Irish accent. Mmmm! Suddenly though I was snapped back to the cooling coach. Then, Miss Tweedle-Dumb had started to explain how our flight back home was cancelled. Laughing I told her to sod off and stop pulling my leg. Her face was serious but still I refused to believe her. "How dare she snap me out of a pleasant pipe dream of me and my future Husband meeting in a smokey, old-style city pub on 'The Green Isle'. Rude!" I jovially said to myself. As we arrived at the airport though, worrying that my fantasy was interrupted was the last thing I had to worry about. Our flight had been cancelled!
 
Whilst the Tweedles panicked, as did the rest of the coach party, I grabbed a luggage trolley and loaded our bags. Pacing into the Airport itself we joined a line that was already a few hundred long and several people wide. After hearing the stresses of Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I decided to go and ask someone what was going on. I joined some people talking to a young attendant and she informed us that due to some issues with the French authorities no flights were allowed into the airspace at all and that almost eighty percent of flights that day and before had been cancelled. These problems could last for up to four days she went on. Armed with this information I waddled back to The Girls and told them what I knew. Several moment later after discussing options a few of us in the lengthening queue were asked to make a separate line for people going to certain destinations. Like sheep we herded round the desks waiting to hear our fate. Becoming bored I started to befriend a pudgy man behind us in the line. I was somewhat dazzled and slightly bemused by the fact that the larger man had a full set of gold teeth. "Very odd" I thought. But after listening to his conversation to a fellow line-ee I discovered he was a washed up pop star who had appeared on a talent programme some years back. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had to watch some of his performed and cringed watching them later on.

Finally arriving at the desk we were told by the lady that the next available flight wasn't for another three days, but it wasn't guaranteed that would be able to leave either. We had no choice. We had to take it. So Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I agreed and our flight was booked for nearly midnight on Thursday evening. But there was a problem. It was only Tuesday. Where were we going to stay for the next seventy-two hours, or more if our new flight was delayed or cancelled! Thankfully the airline recognised this and whilst they admitted that it wasn't the travel providers fault they had to help somehow. So they paid for Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to stay in a three-star, all-inclusive hotel for a couple of nights and also arrange for pre-paid taxi's to collect and drop us off. Happy for the solution all three of us bundled into a cab and headed to our beds - Not before another dispute due to the fact we were all starving and wasting away due to not eating since breakfast.

And that was that. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had worked out that we had bagged a ten-night holiday in sunny Spain for just under £200.00! Bargain if I do say so myself. The morning after our terrible Tuesday I was able to engorge myself with my all-inclusive breakfast so I didn't die of malnutrition, however the water I feel did alter a few things. Lets just say that The Tweedles and I took a few trips to "Brown-Town" during those extra days - at least the Loo was nice though. The extra few days we spent relaxing by the pool, topping up the tan and drinking pre-mixed Pina Colada's whilst trying to avoid the over-enthusiastic holiday rep's. So here I am, back home at last. But its not all boring - Oh no! Because I can promise you next week will be a storm ... Watch this space!

'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