Evening Amigos!
It was only this time last week that I was talking of cooler break away, but oh how in need I am right now of something, anything cold! Bedford today was nearly 35 degrees and over the course of the weekend it was not far short of that temperature either. To say that I was struggling was an understatement and so to put it into context I experienced heat that was hotter than Barbados, Mumbai and Thailand.
The thing is that I don't really do heat very well in fact most people will tell you that I turn into a right bitch when the mercury soars. And oh boy was this weekend one of those moments! Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb have already experienced this on our many annual holiday and I have had heat-induced melt-downs in several countries across Europe. Not entirely sure if that's a good thing however I do know that afterwards that my tantrums can be very funny to look back on and when it is all said and done we can all have a good giggle about how much of a princess I am (sometimes)!
Like that moment on holiday in Fuerteventura when I had a full blown temper tantrum because Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't want to come and look at a bag with me to give their opinion. Incidentally, Miss Tweedle-Dee ended up coming to look at said bag with me, however after the big hoo-ha I decided that in actual fact I no longer wanted it and instead sulked whilst we tried to hail a taxi in broken Spanish back to the hotel.
There was also that time when, after watching a gig in the roughest part of Downtown Las Vegas, far from the glitz and the glamour of the strip I thought it might be a good idea to get a cab home to the hotel. Unfortunately the Tweedles refused and also harshly declined the offer the nice barmaid had made to drop us back to the main strip after her shift, which was within the next few minutes. But alas, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb knows better so out we went into the darkness, google-mapping our way back to the strip by walking through dodgy neighbourhoods and eventually winding up at a bus station that wouldn't have looked out of place in a creepy horror film. Suffice to say that we got home, eventually, but not in the safest of manners I would have liked.
Or how about in Lanzarote when I went to buy some quick last minute purchases before heading home and when I got back to our hotel lobby that the Tweedles had said they were waiting for me in, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had already pissed off to the bus stop to get the coach home without me and I then refused to speak with them the entire journey to the airport and throughout our lengthy journey home, only making polite answers to their pointless efforts to be friends again. I mean I swear they do it to just grind on my wick sometimes in order to have a holiday memory to look back and laugh on.
And whenever there is a beach involved you can always expect me to be the one whose getting Aggy about sand getting everywhere. I wouldn't be so bothered if it just dusted off at the end of the day but it gets everywhere - In your hair, in your bag, in your pants, in your foof and even worse than all those put together in between your toes, making them dry and eventually cracking your skin so bad the creases in your piggies split. Yeah, Ouch!!!
Needless to say that I can get a bit ratty when the heat is on and this weekend was no different. Throwing my hands in the air and huffing and puffing my way around the bedroom I was hot, sticky and swollen with nothing to wear and everything looking awful on me anyway because I was the size of a blue whale in the sweltering weather. But something strange was happening. Mr. Warehouse wasn't biting. Not that I wanted him to react in any particular way but I wanted and needed attention and that was all I was doing it for. Isn't it funny how I can psychologically assess myself and analyse the fact that I am just a pretentious little arse when it gets above twenty-five degrees. I am not proud of my toddler tantrums but in a way I am glad that Mr. Warehouse never pandered to my efforts and frazzlings of being too hot. He simply grinned and got on with it. Now that is the kind of man that is a keeper but will Tenerife be a test with highs of late thirties and early forties!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Las Vegas. Show all posts
Monday, 19 June 2017
Monday, 30 March 2015
Life After Las Vegas!
Afternoon Everybody!
So my first week back from my Las Vegas wanderings and suffice to say that the holiday blues are well and truly kicking in - Especially since it has been raining pretty much all week long since our last conversation. Which brings me round again to the year that ensues.
This year I have found myself asking some important questions in terms of my life progression, who I associate with, who I date and what I will do, not to mention where I will travel. Alot of those things I don't know yet and some I do but for the most part I think I have come to realise that at the ripe old age of twenty-four this year I don't have that much to show for it.
By this point in most Twenty-something's lives they have gone to University, pissed it up at freshers, dated (and slept with) some dodgy people and earned a degree from it all, graduating in long gowns and pointy hats in the knowledge that it will stay on the mantelpiece of their family for years to come as a reminder that they are better than you. If you have not gone down that route (and sometimes even if you have) then you take a Gap Year otherwise known as a "Gaahp Yaarh" for those of a more affluent background! This may include many of the above such as pissing it up with other fellow travellers and dating/fucking some dodgy people along the way. Unfortunately for me I have got drunk many a time and fallen in the gutters of Great Britain, not to mention the amount of wrong-'uns that I have kissed so far on my journey of finding a future-husband. All of this is lovely but the more I commit to the daily grind, the more I feel the need for a random and spontaneous holiday of discovery.
I need to grow. Expand. Develop. Things in life sometime get too stale and somewhere along the line you loose yourself a little bit. I want to loose myself completely and then re-find me. I doubt this can be done on a two week break to Thailand but that is what I am planning. A chance to make some new friends, meet new people and learn about other cultures. A chance to see the world before life gets any more serious.
Now don't get me wrong, I love the creature comforts of home and all but I know that within the next five years at least it will be harder to escape, and in ten years it will be practically impossible to get away even for a weekend let alone skipping off for some travelling and self-discovery bollocks. In time I do want marriage and a family of my own but right now there is no need to be so cautious. I am twenty-three and should be as throw-away and carefree as a plastic bottle containing cheap vodka. I think I need to experience this not only for me but also for my future generations - My Children, my grandchildren, maybe even my great grandchildren. Oh can you imagine their wonderment when Grandma tells the kids about the time she rode an Elephant through the forests of Thailand or when she cuddled a baby lion in South Africa or about that fling with a surfer on an Mexican beach at spring break?
At the moment I have had many a tale to tell about life gone by, anecdotes from dates and general life, but now is time for a change. This year I have already travelled to America. Now its time to conquer Asia as well. 2015 with be the year of travelling and exploring the world. Who knows maybe it will even spill over into next year as well.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So my first week back from my Las Vegas wanderings and suffice to say that the holiday blues are well and truly kicking in - Especially since it has been raining pretty much all week long since our last conversation. Which brings me round again to the year that ensues.
This year I have found myself asking some important questions in terms of my life progression, who I associate with, who I date and what I will do, not to mention where I will travel. Alot of those things I don't know yet and some I do but for the most part I think I have come to realise that at the ripe old age of twenty-four this year I don't have that much to show for it.
By this point in most Twenty-something's lives they have gone to University, pissed it up at freshers, dated (and slept with) some dodgy people and earned a degree from it all, graduating in long gowns and pointy hats in the knowledge that it will stay on the mantelpiece of their family for years to come as a reminder that they are better than you. If you have not gone down that route (and sometimes even if you have) then you take a Gap Year otherwise known as a "Gaahp Yaarh" for those of a more affluent background! This may include many of the above such as pissing it up with other fellow travellers and dating/fucking some dodgy people along the way. Unfortunately for me I have got drunk many a time and fallen in the gutters of Great Britain, not to mention the amount of wrong-'uns that I have kissed so far on my journey of finding a future-husband. All of this is lovely but the more I commit to the daily grind, the more I feel the need for a random and spontaneous holiday of discovery.
I need to grow. Expand. Develop. Things in life sometime get too stale and somewhere along the line you loose yourself a little bit. I want to loose myself completely and then re-find me. I doubt this can be done on a two week break to Thailand but that is what I am planning. A chance to make some new friends, meet new people and learn about other cultures. A chance to see the world before life gets any more serious.
Now don't get me wrong, I love the creature comforts of home and all but I know that within the next five years at least it will be harder to escape, and in ten years it will be practically impossible to get away even for a weekend let alone skipping off for some travelling and self-discovery bollocks. In time I do want marriage and a family of my own but right now there is no need to be so cautious. I am twenty-three and should be as throw-away and carefree as a plastic bottle containing cheap vodka. I think I need to experience this not only for me but also for my future generations - My Children, my grandchildren, maybe even my great grandchildren. Oh can you imagine their wonderment when Grandma tells the kids about the time she rode an Elephant through the forests of Thailand or when she cuddled a baby lion in South Africa or about that fling with a surfer on an Mexican beach at spring break?
At the moment I have had many a tale to tell about life gone by, anecdotes from dates and general life, but now is time for a change. This year I have already travelled to America. Now its time to conquer Asia as well. 2015 with be the year of travelling and exploring the world. Who knows maybe it will even spill over into next year as well.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 23 March 2015
Viva Las Vegas!
Evening All,
So here I am sat back in my somewhat cosy little flat on my comfy if a little worn couch writing to you once more. Last time we spoke I was discussing all the things in which I had got up to on my holiday so far. And in between stuffing my face with dinner at The Bellagio and almost being unable to walk due to sore feet from all the walking I had done I was happy to have experienced such a place as Las Vegas. Many people I have spoken to, both before going and since being back have said that it is on their bucket list of places and things and stuff to do, and with all fairness I can't say I disagree.
Going with my best friends on a short haul holiday to budget-budget land where real life human poo's hide on the apartment stairs not belonging to anyone and getting drunk in a Scottish bar belting out Whitney Houston (True story circa Fuerteventura holiday in 2012 - My first ever with the Tweedles) are memoirs of holidays gone by in which I will cherish. However when a long haul flight is on the cards I think maybe best if I go it alone next time. Jet-lag I have now found has a very adverse effect on the relationship between friends, bringing the majority out with a mild case of the grumps and excessive tiredness being the route cause of most arguments. I have found that the best way to deal with these irritable itches is to just ignore, accept and walk away. Unfortunately no cream has been manufactured or found for treatment of friends with Jet-lag however fun days out, food and cigarettes seem to subdue those feelings of niggly-ness.
Suffice to say though that whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were not the greatest of delights to be around twenty-four-seven (not to mention myself also ... probably) I really enjoyed the good times we did end up sharing. Like my bath I squeezed into with Miss Tweedle-Dumb only so Miss Tweedle-Dee could watch and look down on us in shame as we splashed around like Shamu at Seaworld. I also thoroughly enjoyed pretending to fall into the Grand Canyon, even if my BFF's did not find said event funny. All in all we had a good time and something to remember into our old age. Coming home though from thine bright lanterns of Las Vegas has also been very much an eye opener too. I have learnt many a thing whilst being away and through some conversations and acts I now have the knowledge to make my life a little better than before.
Returning to work though this morning was blissful. Now you see I am one of these Work-obsessed types that enjoys all manners of my work from the Tea round to paper pushing, running errands, sorting out the post and helping reschedule works (which is actually my job as it goes). Oh as I sat in my desk at 08:54am this morning I revealed in the fact that I had missed it so much and secretly promised to my desk and chair I shall not leave them for so long next time, despite it being less than an hour before I was browsing the Internet on my phone for my next adventure; Cambodia, Bali, Vietnam, Thailand, India, China, Africa?! Where would my World Wide Web connection take me. Well not very far as I had nearly a hundred emails to catch up on but nevertheless I am looking to my next holiday soon and hopefully somewhere more exotic and further afield!
And although I am now back home in Blighty, as drizzly and as cold and as miserable as I left it I am all the better for being home on solid ground. If you would like to see all the wonderful fun things I got up to on my holiday to Sunny Las Vegas then you can check out my photo's from my trip on my Facebook profile - - - Here!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 16 March 2015
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
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
Monday, 9 March 2015
Packing is the least fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off!
Afternoon my little munchkins,
So after nearly nine months of planning and preparations, over six months of working a second job and numerous stress-town moments I am now mere hours away from boarding my flight to Las Vegas. It has been a long time coming and the anxiety levels are finally giving way to a more excited feeling. Since I flipped over my calender at work to reveal a new month I have been on edge. Not myself I have been feeling so apprehensive about this holiday I just don't know what to do with myself. And the reasoning why I have become so stressed is a mixture of things but the main one is preparation.
First things being the self preparation you have to have done. You cannot just rock up to a holiday without this stage as it is frowned upon by both the people you are holidaying with and also the locals if you have an awry bikini line and hair that resembles something a horse would eat! Ahh yes, the waxing, shaving, hair dying, hair styling, self tanning, manicuring and pedicuring all have to be tip top before you even think about checking in your bags! And don't even talk to me about getting a massage. I have called several beautician's in the area and between Bedford, Luton, Dunstable and surrounds there is nothing in site ... Unless that is I want to pay through the nose for someone to rub me down with Baby oil I could have bought from Tesco. As of this moment in time I have one thing ticked off my list, maybe two, but I still have to go through the rigmarole tomorrow after work of getting a haircut and thats after I have dyed it later on this evening to make it less of the colour than a Hi-Vis vest. Nails are done and hopefully should last without chipping. Legs are shaved but will need doing again before I leave on Wednesday morning because I am possibly a relative of the Mexican Wolf Children.
Next on my list of preparations and one that is a huge thing is packing. Now I am not one usually to stress about this kinda thing. I make a list and pack what is on that list (and more in many cases), However it is my best friend Miss Tweedle-Dumb that has actual mental breakdowns due to packing. I never understood it but now I do. Europe is different I am only going to be a few hours from home. But the USA is a whole different ball game baby! I can't leave it to chance that there may be shampoo and conditioner and heaven knows toothpaste in these foreign lands of Nevada. I have to pack EVERYTHING! The worst thing is I have to pack in the knowledge my friends will probably want to borrow my clothes as much as I borrowing theirs with the mindset however that I would like to keep them forever. Not only that but what will I pack. Is it hot there?! Well it is a Desert yes but is it going to be warm? Maybe I should bring some jumpers just in case. Jeans - Yes or no? Leather Biker Jacket - Yay or Nay? And then we get onto the shoes. Footwear flying I struggle to whittle down what I shall take, which pairs will make it to American soil? Heels - Will I need them? Sandals - Will I need those? What about shorts and how short is short? So many unanswered questions and we haven't even started on dress codes for where we are going!?
And that is another thing! Where are we going? What will be doing for our 168-hour holiday of a lifetime. I want to do a helicopter over the Grand Canyon but am I too fat to fly? Will I need an extender belt or will the nation with some of the fattest people on earth exclude me and my fourteen-stone from the skies over Sin City? I want to go to a strip club and put dollar bills in ladies knickers, if she is wearing any. I want to be a witness at a Vegas wedding. I want to ride horses through the hot Desert sand and feel the wind in my hair and cowboys and girls before me have done. All this and more in less than a week. How is it possible! In between all that I will have to make time for The Venetian, Paris, Bellagio Fountains, Stratosphere as well as some shows, shopping and of course stuffing my face with as many peanut butter cups the local Liquor store has! What makes this all better is the small fact that it is Spring Break when we touch down. Pool parties, girls in bikinis, wet T-shirt contests and drinking games galore! Bring it on!
But before all that I have to stop panicking about what to do, when to do it, how much it will be and where and just crack on with it, bang it out and get some much needed sleep. Suffice to say that this is one of the most stressful moments in my life. God only knows what this is like with children added into the mix! I should be relaxing right now with a beer, casually packing my bags without a care in the world. Instead I have written ten lists all with the same things on them and have been doing anything in order to procrastinate my time away this afternoon. I know though that it will be in vain as I will be just as headless-chicken tomorrow night. Nevertheless I know what I need to do and as with my workload I shall just plug away with the intention of clocking off in a few hours for dinner and TV time with the Boyfriend.
And to think, the next time I write to you all I will be over five-thousand miles from home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after nearly nine months of planning and preparations, over six months of working a second job and numerous stress-town moments I am now mere hours away from boarding my flight to Las Vegas. It has been a long time coming and the anxiety levels are finally giving way to a more excited feeling. Since I flipped over my calender at work to reveal a new month I have been on edge. Not myself I have been feeling so apprehensive about this holiday I just don't know what to do with myself. And the reasoning why I have become so stressed is a mixture of things but the main one is preparation.
First things being the self preparation you have to have done. You cannot just rock up to a holiday without this stage as it is frowned upon by both the people you are holidaying with and also the locals if you have an awry bikini line and hair that resembles something a horse would eat! Ahh yes, the waxing, shaving, hair dying, hair styling, self tanning, manicuring and pedicuring all have to be tip top before you even think about checking in your bags! And don't even talk to me about getting a massage. I have called several beautician's in the area and between Bedford, Luton, Dunstable and surrounds there is nothing in site ... Unless that is I want to pay through the nose for someone to rub me down with Baby oil I could have bought from Tesco. As of this moment in time I have one thing ticked off my list, maybe two, but I still have to go through the rigmarole tomorrow after work of getting a haircut and thats after I have dyed it later on this evening to make it less of the colour than a Hi-Vis vest. Nails are done and hopefully should last without chipping. Legs are shaved but will need doing again before I leave on Wednesday morning because I am possibly a relative of the Mexican Wolf Children.
Next on my list of preparations and one that is a huge thing is packing. Now I am not one usually to stress about this kinda thing. I make a list and pack what is on that list (and more in many cases), However it is my best friend Miss Tweedle-Dumb that has actual mental breakdowns due to packing. I never understood it but now I do. Europe is different I am only going to be a few hours from home. But the USA is a whole different ball game baby! I can't leave it to chance that there may be shampoo and conditioner and heaven knows toothpaste in these foreign lands of Nevada. I have to pack EVERYTHING! The worst thing is I have to pack in the knowledge my friends will probably want to borrow my clothes as much as I borrowing theirs with the mindset however that I would like to keep them forever. Not only that but what will I pack. Is it hot there?! Well it is a Desert yes but is it going to be warm? Maybe I should bring some jumpers just in case. Jeans - Yes or no? Leather Biker Jacket - Yay or Nay? And then we get onto the shoes. Footwear flying I struggle to whittle down what I shall take, which pairs will make it to American soil? Heels - Will I need them? Sandals - Will I need those? What about shorts and how short is short? So many unanswered questions and we haven't even started on dress codes for where we are going!?
And that is another thing! Where are we going? What will be doing for our 168-hour holiday of a lifetime. I want to do a helicopter over the Grand Canyon but am I too fat to fly? Will I need an extender belt or will the nation with some of the fattest people on earth exclude me and my fourteen-stone from the skies over Sin City? I want to go to a strip club and put dollar bills in ladies knickers, if she is wearing any. I want to be a witness at a Vegas wedding. I want to ride horses through the hot Desert sand and feel the wind in my hair and cowboys and girls before me have done. All this and more in less than a week. How is it possible! In between all that I will have to make time for The Venetian, Paris, Bellagio Fountains, Stratosphere as well as some shows, shopping and of course stuffing my face with as many peanut butter cups the local Liquor store has! What makes this all better is the small fact that it is Spring Break when we touch down. Pool parties, girls in bikinis, wet T-shirt contests and drinking games galore! Bring it on!
But before all that I have to stop panicking about what to do, when to do it, how much it will be and where and just crack on with it, bang it out and get some much needed sleep. Suffice to say that this is one of the most stressful moments in my life. God only knows what this is like with children added into the mix! I should be relaxing right now with a beer, casually packing my bags without a care in the world. Instead I have written ten lists all with the same things on them and have been doing anything in order to procrastinate my time away this afternoon. I know though that it will be in vain as I will be just as headless-chicken tomorrow night. Nevertheless I know what I need to do and as with my workload I shall just plug away with the intention of clocking off in a few hours for dinner and TV time with the Boyfriend.
And to think, the next time I write to you all I will be over five-thousand miles from home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 2 February 2015
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
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
Monday, 12 January 2015
It's Bat Country!
Hello there one and all,
I hope you are all well and that twelve days into the new year I am starting to wonder if some peoples New Years Resolutions have caved in yet. I know that mine are being stretched further and further each day. Who knew that being on time was such an effort?! Nevertheless I am thoroughly looking forward to the year ahead and in particular for events in less than eight-weeks time. I can hardly believe that my little pipe dream with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family is nearly here. It seems like only yesterday I was begging for somewhere to find the money to go and now, after working at my second job in the call centre for nearly six-months solid, listening to people moan and groan and hang-up on you I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were little-r we were obsessed with Johnny Depp. We were obsessed, watching films with even only a few seconds of his baby face in and we would coo and giggle. We all became infamous in our schools library, forever misusing our school's printer to copy reems and reems of Johnny Depp photos, sticking them everywhere from our Notebooks to our walls. We would recite lines from films and take any opportunity to turn a class project into something about J.D. Our school text books were testaments to our following, like a shrine to Mr. Depp with hopeful scrawling's of "Mrs Depp" and "Cry Baby's Baby" wishful squiggles of three girl's whom knew nothing of the world and how it worked let alone what love was and both how electrically brilliant but also earth-shatteringly devastating loving someone can be. Looking back on it, things were so different back then; everyone seemed to be richer in so many ways - Money, Friendships, Families. Life in general seems much easier as a pre-teen than as an adult.
There was one film in particular that as thirteen-year-olds my Tweedles and I took too more than others and that film was called 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', as written by the late and great Hunter S. Thompson in the 1970's and directed by Terry Gilliam in 1998, the film follows two journalists Raoul Juke, played by Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo on a drug fuelled binge through the City of Sin, Las Vegas! As a little person this was a thrilling and exciting film, if not very adult movie to be watching at such a young age. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything and scoured the internet in my lunch breaks with my best buddies by my side looking for nuggets of film-buff knowledge to gain an understanding of Johnny Depp as both an actor and a fellow human. Johnny spent four-months living in the basement of Hunter's home in pursuit of gaining a better understanding for Hunter's mannerisms and habits so as to portray the character well. It seemed normal for us as teenage girls to do the same and as I conjured up dreams of being a starlet in front of the camera whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee directed and Miss Tweedle-Dumb wrote scripts.
A few years ago I was given a blue, silken bound book, Inside it contained a little of what I have shared with you all today in regards to my friendship with my dearest friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Along with pictures of all my ex-lovers and hilarious moments up until I was twenty-one there was a Gem I had not seen in years. It was a story about three eighteen-year-old's on their first holiday. Destination. Las Vegas! Turns out in this story Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I all bump into Johnny Depp who invites us back to his and his Fiancées house (whom was Vanessa Paradis at the time) to look after his children (whom are now in there teens) and spend our holiday there. Eventually the story ends with the three of us permanently staying over there and I fall in love with an hot American waiter. Oh how I do love my best friends and the wishful life they bring me! Funny to think, looking back as Miss Tweedle-Dumb ticked away at the keyboard in the library and printed the tale in bold orange letters that little did we know within the next decade we would be planning for a trip to Sin City ourselves - Minus the Johnny Depp stalking and nanny duties ... And probably even that waiter dare I say!
Leaving the past behind me with fond memories I look forward now to when I finally board that plane. Goodbye cold, wet and possibly snowy Britain and hello to the Nevada Desert where the sun isn't the only thing that will be getting high. I did plan to loose some weight and get down to not only a figure I can be happy with but something that I can show off on social networking sites. "Look at me bitches! I am in Vegas whilst your at your desks! Ha! Oh is it raining outside. Not to worry myself about though as someone called Chad or Chuck is bringing me another Sex on the Beach!" I would say as I casually upload pictures of me in swimsuits lazing by the pool and naked on a bed full of Dollar bills. Obviously there will be the traditional photo's of the Las Vegas sign and the skyline at night. I am sure that there will be many a night spent in a casino or two, drinks flowing and bottles be popping. During the day trips to the local Mall, Markets and down-town sights will be in store as well as maybe a cheeky trip out to Area 51 and the Grand Canyon. I would love to ride horse-back through the sand dunes of the Nevada but I doubt my Tweedles will be so frivolous. Everything aside, I am thoroughly looking forward to my trip and I cannot wait to spend all of what I have been saving for the past nine-months for. Roll on March mother-crackers!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I hope you are all well and that twelve days into the new year I am starting to wonder if some peoples New Years Resolutions have caved in yet. I know that mine are being stretched further and further each day. Who knew that being on time was such an effort?! Nevertheless I am thoroughly looking forward to the year ahead and in particular for events in less than eight-weeks time. I can hardly believe that my little pipe dream with Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family is nearly here. It seems like only yesterday I was begging for somewhere to find the money to go and now, after working at my second job in the call centre for nearly six-months solid, listening to people moan and groan and hang-up on you I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
When Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were little-r we were obsessed with Johnny Depp. We were obsessed, watching films with even only a few seconds of his baby face in and we would coo and giggle. We all became infamous in our schools library, forever misusing our school's printer to copy reems and reems of Johnny Depp photos, sticking them everywhere from our Notebooks to our walls. We would recite lines from films and take any opportunity to turn a class project into something about J.D. Our school text books were testaments to our following, like a shrine to Mr. Depp with hopeful scrawling's of "Mrs Depp" and "Cry Baby's Baby" wishful squiggles of three girl's whom knew nothing of the world and how it worked let alone what love was and both how electrically brilliant but also earth-shatteringly devastating loving someone can be. Looking back on it, things were so different back then; everyone seemed to be richer in so many ways - Money, Friendships, Families. Life in general seems much easier as a pre-teen than as an adult.
There was one film in particular that as thirteen-year-olds my Tweedles and I took too more than others and that film was called 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', as written by the late and great Hunter S. Thompson in the 1970's and directed by Terry Gilliam in 1998, the film follows two journalists Raoul Juke, played by Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro as Dr. Gonzo on a drug fuelled binge through the City of Sin, Las Vegas! As a little person this was a thrilling and exciting film, if not very adult movie to be watching at such a young age. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything and scoured the internet in my lunch breaks with my best buddies by my side looking for nuggets of film-buff knowledge to gain an understanding of Johnny Depp as both an actor and a fellow human. Johnny spent four-months living in the basement of Hunter's home in pursuit of gaining a better understanding for Hunter's mannerisms and habits so as to portray the character well. It seemed normal for us as teenage girls to do the same and as I conjured up dreams of being a starlet in front of the camera whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee directed and Miss Tweedle-Dumb wrote scripts.
A few years ago I was given a blue, silken bound book, Inside it contained a little of what I have shared with you all today in regards to my friendship with my dearest friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Along with pictures of all my ex-lovers and hilarious moments up until I was twenty-one there was a Gem I had not seen in years. It was a story about three eighteen-year-old's on their first holiday. Destination. Las Vegas! Turns out in this story Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I all bump into Johnny Depp who invites us back to his and his Fiancées house (whom was Vanessa Paradis at the time) to look after his children (whom are now in there teens) and spend our holiday there. Eventually the story ends with the three of us permanently staying over there and I fall in love with an hot American waiter. Oh how I do love my best friends and the wishful life they bring me! Funny to think, looking back as Miss Tweedle-Dumb ticked away at the keyboard in the library and printed the tale in bold orange letters that little did we know within the next decade we would be planning for a trip to Sin City ourselves - Minus the Johnny Depp stalking and nanny duties ... And probably even that waiter dare I say!
Leaving the past behind me with fond memories I look forward now to when I finally board that plane. Goodbye cold, wet and possibly snowy Britain and hello to the Nevada Desert where the sun isn't the only thing that will be getting high. I did plan to loose some weight and get down to not only a figure I can be happy with but something that I can show off on social networking sites. "Look at me bitches! I am in Vegas whilst your at your desks! Ha! Oh is it raining outside. Not to worry myself about though as someone called Chad or Chuck is bringing me another Sex on the Beach!" I would say as I casually upload pictures of me in swimsuits lazing by the pool and naked on a bed full of Dollar bills. Obviously there will be the traditional photo's of the Las Vegas sign and the skyline at night. I am sure that there will be many a night spent in a casino or two, drinks flowing and bottles be popping. During the day trips to the local Mall, Markets and down-town sights will be in store as well as maybe a cheeky trip out to Area 51 and the Grand Canyon. I would love to ride horse-back through the sand dunes of the Nevada but I doubt my Tweedles will be so frivolous. Everything aside, I am thoroughly looking forward to my trip and I cannot wait to spend all of what I have been saving for the past nine-months for. Roll on March mother-crackers!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 10 November 2014
An All American Adventure!
Howdy Ya'll,
OK so maybe not my normal introduction but I am feeling so spiffingly Stateside I might have to run down to Budgens and buy me some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and have myself a Party in the USA! Yep that's right, today the ball was set in motion and the count down can now begin officially to my once in a lifetime opportunity trip with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to fabulous Las Vegas! But this weekend wasn't all about stars and stripes, oh no, I had something bigger than Kim Kardashian's arse to contend with this weekend for it was time that said Tweedles met my thing-that's-not-a-thing ... Mr. Warehouse!
The subject came up in conversation after trying in vain all of last weekend to speak with Miss Tweedle-Dumb on the phone. After discussing a recent planned Mini-break to Berlin to visit kitsch German Christmas Markets with her boyfriend and with my envy growing at how I do not have access to such a luxury as the single life permits Bachelors to a lonely life of misery whereby trips alone are frowned upon even by hotels - See any hotel ruling about single occupancy! Frowned upon I say! Nevertheless conversation soon lead to Mr. Warehouse and oddly I came across all coy. Now I like a good air of mystery about myself which I know for a fact I do not have as I am so god damn open about everything (I mean come on I have been spilling my life out to you every week for the last year) but strangely I quite liked Mr. Warehouse being my naughty, sordid little work-related secret. But you know since were fucking I may as well introduce him to the two people in my life that are most important to me. Ma Mama et Papa, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb!
"So. When are we going to meet him?" I was bluntly asked as I evasively avoided the questions about whether or not I was satisfied and if this satisfaction met or exceeded what I had from Mr. Cheese (Because lets be honest I don't think it would fall much beneath it?). I gave a vague idea as to sometime, maybe, possibly, if-everybody-wants-to meeting up for drinks over the weekend. With my best friend appeased and after touching on some scary gossip we ended our call. A date had been set. A time had been allocated. Four days, nineteen hours to go in counting!
Choosing a classy cocktail bar in the middle of town I thought I had picked well until that is it Saturday arrived and with it the rain. With Miss Tweedle-Dee feeling not up to it much and myself very much under the weather indeed I reluctantly but gladly changed the venue to my cosy apartment where we would sip on Rose and home-made cocktails, maybe even a cheeky Hot Chocolate with all the trimmings whilst watching the fireworks across the rooftops of Bedford from my huge skylight. Mr. Warehouse standing behind me holding my waist tightly as my best friends looked on in wonder if this was the one I had been waiting for. This however was as far from reality I think you probably could have got. I don't think even I could have predicted how entertaining and loose the evening would become and not a cocktail pineapple stick in sight!
With my girls slumped into my beloved orange couch, Miss Tweedle-Dee looking into flights to Las Vegas and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sorting out the equally important catering for the evening I suddenly got very, very nervous. Pacing the lounge I made it seem like I was nesting but I think my friends could tell I was anxious about both the arrival of Domino's and Mr. Warehouse. A few moments passed and in between British Airways hold music and discussions about meatballs (non-sexual I might add) I had a phone call. Unknown number it could only mean one thing. Pizza was here! But then I had another call - Mr. Warehouse! He was also here and as I skipped down the stairs after my Tweedles my excitement grew. Halting abruptly at the bottom of the staircase I was thrust a fist full of notes and pushed out to the poor delivery boy.
As I opened my front door I noticed not only the bearer of feast for the evening but also a cool cucumber leaning against the Victorian brickwork of my flat's exterior. Like something straight out of 1955 dressed in denim jeans, hair a mess and a leather-esk jacket on I half imagined myself as Sandy from Grease, complete with Frenchy and Rizzo by my side. Noticing the 'Good-boy-jumper' he always wore when trying to impress me I remembered that I had guests and that since Mr. Warehouse was not my boyfriend I should not pounce on him, ravishing his lips like a horny school girl. Instead after helping Miss Tweedle-Dee for her newly acquired car keys (She recently passed her driving test last week - Well done!) I introduced him to the family. Noticing that both parties were nervous of the other ones company I proceeded to get everyone indoors and warmed up. Winter was setting in and I wasn't about to spend my Saturday Night outside when there was steaming hot takeaway on my porch table!
With no care for dinner tables or cutlery we all dug into slices and took to establishing small talk before the conversation dried up. In a panic with what we should do or talk about Miss Tweedle-Dumb came up with a good idea of playing Cards Against Humanity to help break the ice a little. Now I don't know whether my friends were just being nice to him or if they genuinely found his answers regarding dead parents and pixalated bukkake funny but one thing is for sure and that is Mr. Warehouse has both a sickeningly good sense of humour but also a limited knowledge of all things pornographic. And so the evening ensued with a game, or five, of Cards Against Humanity whereby in-between searches on Urban Dictionary and even more glasses of wine we all ended up getting more and more comfortable with each other. And with strict instructions not to kiss me, fondle me, woo me or indeed grope me, Mr. Warehouse was doing very well considering I was now, for some odd reason, dressed in my Snow White costume (Minus the wig but with the addition of eight-inch stripper heels). I recall it was as a prize for the winner of Cards Against Humanity the person would be awarded the prize of making me do anything I asked of them. I suppose looking back on it Miss Tweedle-Dumb could have always thought outside the box with something a little more extravagantly X-rated!
With the night slowly subduing, all four of us retired to my bedroom for a bit of a calm-down. As my friends continued in their laughter and giggles, going through weird dreams I used to have and old diary entries from a angst-ridden teenage moi, I saw in their eyes something different. Something I had never seen in them before around someone I was currently seeing. They were relaxed. At ease in Mr. Warehouse's company they thought nothing of raiding my sex-draw like crazed bears (On the hunt for what can only be described as 'My Purple Dinosaur') and stomping around my flat with the Snow White wig on like a dodgy Cher lookalike. Never before had I ever seen either of my Tweedles, My very best friends in the whole entire universe, act this way around a boy they had just met that was boning their BFF. I asked Miss Tweedle-Dumb why this was later on in the evening after Mr. Warehouse had left, enquiring as to if she liked him or not.
"He is not a snob" Miss Tweedle-Dumb started with, adding that he "is not like all the other pompous rich arseholes you dated in the past. This one is different. He is common, and I like that".
Finally snuggled up in bed, the faint snores from Miss Tweedle-Dee in the other room as I spooned Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I thought about the evening that had just deceased. A few stolen kisses in the kitchen and when the Tweedle's were not paying attention were now not enough. I needed more. But as I reflect now on my weekend as it happened I know now what I was missing. Affection. The simplicity of having someone that wants to peck and smooch and kiss and snuggle and cuddle and nuzzle and shower you with love every waking moment until you are back in their arms asleep on their chest. I had missed that. I knew with Mr. Cheese that it was missing and for some strange reason I put up with it for so long, pretending to myself that it was OK and I would just learn to live with it. And yet I forgot how blissful it is to have it - Even if it does make you sick!
What won't make me sick though is the amount of American food I will be consuming in Las Vegas and from now until the moment I step off that plane in the middle of the Nevada desert I shall be dreaming about eating all manner of wondrously lavish concoctions; Pancakes and Bacon, Open-All-Hours Starbucks, Captain Crunch, Donuts, Burgers, Fries and all the peanut butter flavoured shit you can think of. Book me Harley Street, I'm gonna need gastric band when I come back!
OK so maybe not my normal introduction but I am feeling so spiffingly Stateside I might have to run down to Budgens and buy me some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and have myself a Party in the USA! Yep that's right, today the ball was set in motion and the count down can now begin officially to my once in a lifetime opportunity trip with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to fabulous Las Vegas! But this weekend wasn't all about stars and stripes, oh no, I had something bigger than Kim Kardashian's arse to contend with this weekend for it was time that said Tweedles met my thing-that's-not-a-thing ... Mr. Warehouse!
The subject came up in conversation after trying in vain all of last weekend to speak with Miss Tweedle-Dumb on the phone. After discussing a recent planned Mini-break to Berlin to visit kitsch German Christmas Markets with her boyfriend and with my envy growing at how I do not have access to such a luxury as the single life permits Bachelors to a lonely life of misery whereby trips alone are frowned upon even by hotels - See any hotel ruling about single occupancy! Frowned upon I say! Nevertheless conversation soon lead to Mr. Warehouse and oddly I came across all coy. Now I like a good air of mystery about myself which I know for a fact I do not have as I am so god damn open about everything (I mean come on I have been spilling my life out to you every week for the last year) but strangely I quite liked Mr. Warehouse being my naughty, sordid little work-related secret. But you know since were fucking I may as well introduce him to the two people in my life that are most important to me. Ma Mama et Papa, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb!
"So. When are we going to meet him?" I was bluntly asked as I evasively avoided the questions about whether or not I was satisfied and if this satisfaction met or exceeded what I had from Mr. Cheese (Because lets be honest I don't think it would fall much beneath it?). I gave a vague idea as to sometime, maybe, possibly, if-everybody-wants-to meeting up for drinks over the weekend. With my best friend appeased and after touching on some scary gossip we ended our call. A date had been set. A time had been allocated. Four days, nineteen hours to go in counting!
Choosing a classy cocktail bar in the middle of town I thought I had picked well until that is it Saturday arrived and with it the rain. With Miss Tweedle-Dee feeling not up to it much and myself very much under the weather indeed I reluctantly but gladly changed the venue to my cosy apartment where we would sip on Rose and home-made cocktails, maybe even a cheeky Hot Chocolate with all the trimmings whilst watching the fireworks across the rooftops of Bedford from my huge skylight. Mr. Warehouse standing behind me holding my waist tightly as my best friends looked on in wonder if this was the one I had been waiting for. This however was as far from reality I think you probably could have got. I don't think even I could have predicted how entertaining and loose the evening would become and not a cocktail pineapple stick in sight!
With my girls slumped into my beloved orange couch, Miss Tweedle-Dee looking into flights to Las Vegas and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sorting out the equally important catering for the evening I suddenly got very, very nervous. Pacing the lounge I made it seem like I was nesting but I think my friends could tell I was anxious about both the arrival of Domino's and Mr. Warehouse. A few moments passed and in between British Airways hold music and discussions about meatballs (non-sexual I might add) I had a phone call. Unknown number it could only mean one thing. Pizza was here! But then I had another call - Mr. Warehouse! He was also here and as I skipped down the stairs after my Tweedles my excitement grew. Halting abruptly at the bottom of the staircase I was thrust a fist full of notes and pushed out to the poor delivery boy.
As I opened my front door I noticed not only the bearer of feast for the evening but also a cool cucumber leaning against the Victorian brickwork of my flat's exterior. Like something straight out of 1955 dressed in denim jeans, hair a mess and a leather-esk jacket on I half imagined myself as Sandy from Grease, complete with Frenchy and Rizzo by my side. Noticing the 'Good-boy-jumper' he always wore when trying to impress me I remembered that I had guests and that since Mr. Warehouse was not my boyfriend I should not pounce on him, ravishing his lips like a horny school girl. Instead after helping Miss Tweedle-Dee for her newly acquired car keys (She recently passed her driving test last week - Well done!) I introduced him to the family. Noticing that both parties were nervous of the other ones company I proceeded to get everyone indoors and warmed up. Winter was setting in and I wasn't about to spend my Saturday Night outside when there was steaming hot takeaway on my porch table!
With no care for dinner tables or cutlery we all dug into slices and took to establishing small talk before the conversation dried up. In a panic with what we should do or talk about Miss Tweedle-Dumb came up with a good idea of playing Cards Against Humanity to help break the ice a little. Now I don't know whether my friends were just being nice to him or if they genuinely found his answers regarding dead parents and pixalated bukkake funny but one thing is for sure and that is Mr. Warehouse has both a sickeningly good sense of humour but also a limited knowledge of all things pornographic. And so the evening ensued with a game, or five, of Cards Against Humanity whereby in-between searches on Urban Dictionary and even more glasses of wine we all ended up getting more and more comfortable with each other. And with strict instructions not to kiss me, fondle me, woo me or indeed grope me, Mr. Warehouse was doing very well considering I was now, for some odd reason, dressed in my Snow White costume (Minus the wig but with the addition of eight-inch stripper heels). I recall it was as a prize for the winner of Cards Against Humanity the person would be awarded the prize of making me do anything I asked of them. I suppose looking back on it Miss Tweedle-Dumb could have always thought outside the box with something a little more extravagantly X-rated!
With the night slowly subduing, all four of us retired to my bedroom for a bit of a calm-down. As my friends continued in their laughter and giggles, going through weird dreams I used to have and old diary entries from a angst-ridden teenage moi, I saw in their eyes something different. Something I had never seen in them before around someone I was currently seeing. They were relaxed. At ease in Mr. Warehouse's company they thought nothing of raiding my sex-draw like crazed bears (On the hunt for what can only be described as 'My Purple Dinosaur') and stomping around my flat with the Snow White wig on like a dodgy Cher lookalike. Never before had I ever seen either of my Tweedles, My very best friends in the whole entire universe, act this way around a boy they had just met that was boning their BFF. I asked Miss Tweedle-Dumb why this was later on in the evening after Mr. Warehouse had left, enquiring as to if she liked him or not.
"He is not a snob" Miss Tweedle-Dumb started with, adding that he "is not like all the other pompous rich arseholes you dated in the past. This one is different. He is common, and I like that".
Finally snuggled up in bed, the faint snores from Miss Tweedle-Dee in the other room as I spooned Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I thought about the evening that had just deceased. A few stolen kisses in the kitchen and when the Tweedle's were not paying attention were now not enough. I needed more. But as I reflect now on my weekend as it happened I know now what I was missing. Affection. The simplicity of having someone that wants to peck and smooch and kiss and snuggle and cuddle and nuzzle and shower you with love every waking moment until you are back in their arms asleep on their chest. I had missed that. I knew with Mr. Cheese that it was missing and for some strange reason I put up with it for so long, pretending to myself that it was OK and I would just learn to live with it. And yet I forgot how blissful it is to have it - Even if it does make you sick!
What won't make me sick though is the amount of American food I will be consuming in Las Vegas and from now until the moment I step off that plane in the middle of the Nevada desert I shall be dreaming about eating all manner of wondrously lavish concoctions; Pancakes and Bacon, Open-All-Hours Starbucks, Captain Crunch, Donuts, Burgers, Fries and all the peanut butter flavoured shit you can think of. Book me Harley Street, I'm gonna need gastric band when I come back!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 29 September 2014
Working Nine To Five ...
Bonjour!
So as my first full week of being a fully fledged twenty-three-year-old I am beginning to get a bit more of a routine in my life now that the booze and birthday cake is done away with. Now that the partying is over and done with I can start concentrating on my big trip to Las Vegas in March of 2015. With just over six-months until I go I am already planning up, writing lists about list on reams of papers just waiting for the day I board that plane to a destination of many an American Dream.
Last week I started my second job. Nothing special I must add; Just working in a call-centre calling people randomly and asking if they want to take part in a survey. Yep that's right, I am one of those annoying people that calls when your in the middle of feeding the kids, administering medication to your dog or even taking a leak. And it isn't the first time I have worked as a telephone operative as previous job roles in the past involved asking you for donations to charities you probably have never heard of, persuading you to take part in market research about lunch boxes and booking in a bowling game at your local alley. And some of the responses and people you get to speak to are just priceless. Oh yes, us call centre staff have heard it all. I don't think anything that someone says or does whilst on the phone could shock me anymore.
I was coming to the end of my shift as a customer service assistant at a contact centre for a rather large national bowling alley. "Two minutes to go!" I thought in my head as I watched the analogue clock in the corner of my screen tick down the final moments of what had been a long and exhausting shift. Time soon to go home and put my feet up with a nice glass of wine. Then the dreaded tone beeped in my ear, abruptly crashing me down from my day-dream and into a script I knew off by heart. Welcoming the caller onto the line I looked at the clock as it turned 9pm. Everyone left apart from me. I was still sat there twenty-minutes later but it would be another fifteen before the caller eventually hung up. The lengthy caller in question was a rather demanding sweet-sixteener-to-be and with a birthday coming up in the next few weeks she was stopping at nothing to have it all her own way. Struggling not to laugh and snigger I listened to requests of her having pink flamingos and penguins greeting her guests from the entrance. She was only getting started. Banners of her face and with outside catering brought in for her twenty-something guest list I knew this was something I couldn't handle alone.
With no other option I put the young prima donna on hold and called the branch to gain there advice. Of course, flamingos and handmade vol au vents were banned from the birthday celebrations but oddly the banners of the little darling was allowed, as was the throwing of glittery confetti as she exited the already booked limo. Thinking that the fifteen-year-old princess would kick off I took a deep breath before taking her off hold. Relaying to her the branches answers she seemed annoyed and miffed that someone was spoiling her big day but after explaining fully that flamingos and penguins were not allowed on the premises and that outside catering would be a breach of health and safety (I know that old nut) she seems to calm down. After yelling for her father and his credit card I finally spoke to someone I thought I would be able to make sense of. That was until, quite matter of fact, he said that he would buy her another pony. But egg finally landed on this well-to-do gentleman's lap as our company did not accept American Express and so had to end the call in order to find another card. Saying goodbye and ending the call I could already hear the tantrums erupting in the background. Thankful for the day off I had planned the following day I knew I would probably never hear from the little brat again. She will be eighteen now and probably still has that silver spoon wedged between those arse-cheeks of hers.
Another job I had was market research, very similar to my second job now actually, carrying out surveys on behalf of big customers such as the government, phone providers and a multitude of high street banks. But with serious subjects to get statistics for you sometimes have to fight back the urge to just literally laugh out loud. I had this many a time, a few times where by you can plainly hear urination and others when it is simply as you go to hang up and hear the blop of a cistern and the thrashing of toilet water. One time I even caught someone in the tub! Clearly catching this man at an inconvenient time I promised to call back soon. But on the contrary he obliged and carried out the research questionnaire in full, adding in the odd splash and splosh for added effect.
The majority of people you speak to you see are very nice and genuinely as a human being you don't want to be unkind or horrible to someone. You do get the odd dick-heads that are just shouty and angry but as I hang up and code away as appropriately and with my ears probably still ringing I think, well someone either hasn't been laid in a long time or has just burnt their dinner. Sometimes though you can call at the most in consonant of times in peoples lives and not everyone makes it easy for you to get out once your into a call. One elderly lady I spoke to whilst working in charity fundraiser answered the phone politely and kindly, a warm grand-mothering voice. When I asked for the man of the household, her husband, I was told he was not in. Asking for a time in which he would be available to speak with I was met with an answer I didn't fully understand until she had hung up.
"Well pet, if you want to speak to him you will have to have a hot line to heaven" The old dear softly spoke down the line and before I even got a chance to open my mouth the line went dead. That wasn't the only thing as I soon realised that what the pensioner was trying to say was that her husband was dead. Feeling bad about it I tried my hardest from that moment on to be more careful with older people - They die more often.
With targets to beat and completed surveys to get the stress levels on a market research company call floor are usually pretty intense, but sometimes you speak to that odd gem that just takes it all away. Like one man whom I spoke to on a cold winter's evening a few years ago. After going through the same old introduction again with yet another faceless voice I got an odd response that soon made me prick up my ears and put down my doodling pen. The gruffly voiced gentleman on the other end asked a common question as to what incentive there was for him in all of this. Stating clearly that there was no prize draw for a Porsche or cash give-away I was met with the usual steely cold response. Thinking that he was about to hang up I tried one last time to ask him to complete the survey.
"You have a very sexy voice Abbey. Very seductive indeed. OK, I will do it. On one condition. Because I like your voice. I like to hear you talk. So carry on dear." Shocked I looked around. Involved with they're own workload no-one seemed to care that this older man may be praying on a college student. Doing my job I continued the seven-minute phone call without as much as a peep from the respondent apart from answering the questions of course, the odd grunt or pant for good measure being huffed down the phone from his end. What he was doing whilst I asked of his opinions on the war in Iraq I have no clue but I didn't want to ask. As we came to the end of the call I thanked him for his time and proceeded to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Not getting away easily he asked me a question I never expected.
"Can I have your number?" A slightly out of breath man asked. Panicking I gave him the company number.
"No. Can I have your number?" My admirer asked. Now bricking it I simply said that it was not company policy to give out individual personal details and again thanked him for his time, desperately hoping he would just go so I could go on break and laugh my tits off, hoping I never have to talk to him again. Silence was broken after a few after another frosty bit of dead-air. Finally the male hung up but not before thanking me for a very good evening indeed. Even sitting here now I can recall his final message - No No Abbey, Thank you. Thank you.
And so I slog it out, day-dreaming away the moment I can watch a sham-Vegas wedding between two drunks that have just met. Thoughts of cocktails, wild and messy nights out and a naughty American fling. Week after week for the next six-months I shall continue to work my fingers to the bone in order to afford a holiday of a lifetime. And as I sit at my desk I wonder to myself, how an earth would I be able to date with two jobs, an apartment, a hectic social life and a holiday to save for, not to even mention Christmas! But somehow I think that maybe there is something brewing. Something that is maybe a little closer to home. Something that has been under my nose the entire time ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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