I Love Bank Holiday's!

Hello,
 
Happy Easter everyone! I hope you all had a good bank holiday - if you get one that is. Here in the UK we got a four day weekend stretching from Friday to Monday. And after the way I ended the last edition I should probably explain what I actually got up to. Well for the most part the weather held out, and by that I mean it didn't rain. It did snow several times, the most inconvenient was when I was walking from the station to my cousin's birthday party. Note to self: Walking across a muddy field with sheepskin boots on and trying to look sexy in front of footballers is not a good look when you have the arctic flying into you at forty-miles an hour. But aside from the weather everything else went swimmingly. Apart from a minor dispute however with Miss Chocolate which I shall not go into as I would get so angry you could fry an egg on my face. It has not yet been fully resolved I think but things like this will need time to grow again. Fingers crossed we'll be OK soon though, I need someone who wont disapprove of my Harlequin ways when were out. I had a free house to myself the weekend as Ma and Pa went away for a dirty weekend in a Caravan. 'If the caravan's rocking, don't come knocking' is there cringe moto - I don't think there is anything less sexually appealing than thinking that people over the age of 45 ''do-it'' *Sick face and vomit noise*
 
Thursday night after work I had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee come round and we vegged out watching telly and eating pizza. After Miss Tweedle-Dumb had left to visit her boyfriend, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I decided to hit the sack. That was until we realised we couldn't lock the front door as I had misplaced my house keys somewhere in the lounge. I knew they were there as I had let myself and the girls in and after locking the door behind us, put them down somewhere. We had been looking constantly for several hours now and in the small hours of Friday morning I called it a night, pushed all the furniture back to its rightful place and wedged a coffee table behind the front door. This did not however stop Miss Tweedle-Dee from making up tales of how we would be raped and shot in the night by intruders to which I brushed off despite thinking the very same thing the previous night when the door had been locked and my Father in the room adjacent. Morning broke through the window as we both squinted at one another. lying in bed together with morning breath and hair all over the place like an old married couple. I investigated downstairs and promptly returned to infirm my bed-partner that there was no intruders in the night and if there were then they were very sneaky to get out again putting everything back right as I left it. Once up and dressed we started to plan our day when Miss Tweedle-Dumb called with some spooky news. "I have found your keys" she says excitedly but nervously holding back more information. After probing she continued. "They were in the back of my car, neatly placed on the floor behind where you were sitting" she said. Gobsmacked I started to well up with joy and horror. Who could have put them there? We didn't go back into the car once we were in the house? Did the invisible elderly lady who lives with me do it as she has done with many other things before? We may never know.

Later on we left for some shopping near London with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and some other friends of ours. As usual the day ended with lunch in our favourite pub, gossipping over men and other idiosyncrasies as well as our ghostly encounter the previous night. Throughout Saturday morning before I went out to spend the day with family, I rearranged the house to accommodate my friends who were coming to mine for pre-drinks before Saturdays big 80's V 90's headphone-disco night out. The table was laid out with a roulette shot's game, a game of naughty charades was nearby. Alcohol, mixers and chocolate was covering the counters in the kitchen. An airbed had been arranged (but not blown up due to the lack of batteries I had working) and make-up, hair and dressing stations had been assigned in the lounge. Everyone was due to arrive at 7pm. Well, 7pm came and went, so did 7.30pm and 8pm. Finally at quarter-to-nine they arrived. Miss Tweedle-Dumb's car had broken down and there was issues trying to find parts to fix it. Regardless they were here and we started to get ready, dance, drink and play games. Lets just say you don't know your friends until you play a round or two of 'never have I ever' with them.

Calling a cab to town we darted around looking for money, phone and most of all keys! Jumping in the cab I think I was the only one to carry on drinking and also to strike up conversation with the fellow that was driving us towards a night of madness and mayhem. Once inside the alternative-club the headphones went on and the inhibitions came off. I spent the night howling away to cheesy pop classics from our childhood and dancing the moves that matched them. At one point I found myself "lost" and coincidentally made friends with a very nice chap who showed me how he dances - with his tongue. As in kissing - nothing else, god, I'm not that much of a floozy! Then before I knew it, somehow I was on the floor in a heap with my arms and legs flailing around like an upside down beetle looking for help. Thankfully this young man whose face was somewhat blurred by the amount of alcohol I had exceeded picked me up and just continued where he left off. I must have got bored as I just left and went to go and find the others without even saying goodbye. Rude I know - but I'm blaming it on the alcohol. That night we all returned home where apparently there was an argument over ordering a take-away of which I was in the middle of completely KO on the lounge floor. I woke the following morning on the flattened airbed on my bedroom floor after being kicked from my drunken slumber by Miss Tweedle-Dumb as she made her way to the bathroom.

Sunday I spent mostly recovering form a hangover that I had didn't anticipate. I never get hangovers. Why was Sunday the day to start?! Fully-recovered Monday was spent in my home-town wondering around boutiques and being chatted up by weirdo-couple's trying to stroke me. Strangely though, after the weekend that I have had I have not made any pounces on the male variety and for once in a very, very long time I am not lusting or longing for anyone. I suppose this is what its like to be single then, but hopefully not forever. Out on the prowl soon I hope.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Time to Say I Told You So ...

Hello again,

So last week was the week of the 'prowl' and can you believe that Mr. Waistcoat had a fair run with communicating. It has since however dried up, but to be honest I'm not all that bothered. And especially after the weekend I have had I really feel like becoming Asexual ... If I was ever good! I should probably explain my weekend, that might help a little.

Last week as I was finishing my last entry (A Night of Waistcoats, Free Drinks and Disappointment) I got talking to Mr. Coffee. We spoke for a while and turned into the longest conversation I have had with him in what seemed like ages. As us British do, we conversed over small talk and each others daily lives but I soon steered it in a direction I had wanted for a while. After he asked what I was doing and I replied with "finishing off the blog" came an awkward silence. It was followed by him confessing that he was an avid reader. Oops! I hadn't thought I had been that unsavoury really, given the truth and situations. regardless he promptly answered my question by saying that yes he was offended and upset by what I had written earlier and that this was a contributing factor to why he was not talking to me like we used to. the word 'Unfulfilling' came to mind and I suddenly realised that maybe I wasn't as savoury as i had once thought. But as explained it was the truth and sometimes it hurts. I had apologised and we planned a catch-up for that coming Saturday.

Friday night came and I had heard nothing from Mr. Coffee, until I logged into my Facebook page and up he popped for a chat. We confirmed the place and time we were to meet and I finally thought that this could be a start-a-fresh for us as friends and maybe something more in the future. I decided to call this a 'Make-or Break Date' in which I would really assess why I was so infatuated with Mr. Coffee. I never told him this but I was thinking that maybe after some time apart I would be able to see if there was even a fizzle between us that meant more. Unfortunately we never got to that meeting ...

One of the last things Mr. Coffee and I spoke of was his request for me to call him at 10.30am to wake him from a lazy slumber. I agreed and we departed for bed. Upon waking myself Saturday morning I went around my usual weekend duties until 10.30am came and I rang Mr. Coffee as asked. it rang - and rang - and rang - and rang again some more. no response at all. I left it for a bit not wanting to accept what my head was telling me. I called again several times before I gave up trying. Lets just conclude that I was stood up by Mr. Coffee, who I was meant to be spending the afternoon on a 'Make-or Break Date'. I think its safe to say that it was a lucky break rather than make.

It is now Tuesday and more than four days have passed by since being stood up. Still no phone call or message apologising or explaining. I had tried to justify why he hadn't turned up but came to the realisation that even your Nan dying you would still at least drop me a text to let me know. Maybe not the gentleman Mr. Coffee had made out to be? Although, as I have said, maybe it was a blessing in disguise? I say this as I met up with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb tonight and as it just so happens Miss Tweedle-Dee had some juicy gossip for us all that I shall now share with you all. So turns out that Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers, girlfriend (You still keeping up?) has been told that one of her close college friends is getting close to Mr. Coffee and that he has been trying to worm his way in. This has been going on for several weeks which would co-inside with the fact that he has not been talking to me for just as long. Funny that eh?

Regardless of all this I have been busy planning more nights out full of mayhem and mischief with Miss Chocolate as well as a mini break weekend with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb for some well earned men-free shopping. Cannot wait!

All this talk of a women only is making me very happy and ready for Summer 2013 more than ever! Bring it on!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Night of Waistcoats, Free Drinks and Disappointment

Hi Guys,

So another week another entry. But also a few more tales to tell. I have just finished saying goodbye to an Aunt of mine who is visiting from southern Ireland. After escaping the uncomfortable heat of my fathers lounge we went for a sneaky cigarette and chat outside. I discovered that it is not only my friends that follow me and my blog. Turns out Auntie-Ireland is a big fan?!

As explained in the last post Miss Chocolate and I were having a night out on the tiles. And a night out on the tiles it was. It started with my parents going away for the weekend to London and so I had the whole house to myself - Bliss! I got ready as usual only to find the only hairdryer in the house was going to London on a trip too. Very unhappy little lady, with added frizzy hair. I planned on wearing a little black number, 'The Knockout' dress I bought from a well-known high street shop. In fact I was quite impressed that I had fitted into there sizes as I am a self confessed calorie-ignorer. As I left for the station looked hot to trott and with a sheer front and back panel to the dress I had to have balls to be wearing it. Upon arriving to said location and meeting with Miss Chocolate I split my tights and proceeded to the nearest corner shop to by some more, only to then barter with the assistant to try and get a discount. I ended up paying £2.99 for 4 pairs of black opaque tights that little old ladies wear. Once we entering the club, Miss Chocolate and I quickly hit the bar and necked a few and chatted for a bit until the conversation took a turn towards the subject of Mr. Coffee. I had spoken to him briefly that afternoon but as with every time we speak, it is never long enough for me to edge towards asking him on a date. And yes I have resigned myself to the fact that whilst he is lovely, if this is going to anywhere it will yet again be me tugging on the reins. I had told Miss Chocolate that Mr. Coffee was due to be out tonight, weather it was in attendance at the same establishment or not was another thing entirely. Apparently this had given Miss Chocolate a spiffing idea to text my undying yurn for him and also a voice mail message too.
 
As we yet again approached the bar, a man started coming onto us. To his dismay Miss Chocolate and I pulled out our favourite one-liner saved especially for creeps like him and told him that we were lesbians out on a les-only-bender (no pun intended). Graciously he still bought us a drink though, but continued to pester us all night, probably in the hope of watching some girl on girl action. While slowly getting more and more drunk I decided that as he had not responded (no surprise) that I should pursue other avenues of interest. Then, just as I was explaining my plot the most incredible, fairy book man appeared glowing through the dry ice and the coloured lights. All four points I look for in a man were checked off. Shoes: Made of leather, slightly pointed and modern. Eyes: Deep chestnut brown and protected by some practical geeky specs. Teeth: Shiny white and squeaky clean. Hair: Strawberry blonde in a roughed up style, something I was itching to run my fingers through. All four points is a rare find, but then add on top the fact that he was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by a matching waistcoat. A black tie gently finished off the combination along with a tie pin. I mean who wears them. No one, unless your like a proper nice 'take-me-home-to-mummy-and-daddy' kinda guy. Accompanying his attire was a white handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat. Not a piece of white paper carefully folded to pretend, nor a natty napkin from the local chippy. A proper gentleman's handkerchief. I froze. This was it! Yasmin sensed I was on the prowl and promptly said to go and get him, and like a sexy lioness I stalked over to my prey. The intention was that if I had big enough balls to wear this dress and come out of the house with my hair half curled then why the hell not. As I approached my victim I mentioned how I liked his waistcoat and he fondly admired my dress and touched my hair whilst commenting on its prettiness. At this point I nearly lost it and ravished him right there and then, but I played it cool. We chatted and he mentioned how he looked similar to a posh billionaire whom I know of. I agreed and before I had a chance to shut my mouth the alcohol explained how I had a massive crush on him. Best move ever! After conversing for a substantial time we headed off in separate directions to find yet again more beverages. I returned to Miss Chocolate to find her smiling ear to ear, almost splitting her face in half. She and I both knew that the chase was on!

We tried to keep track of Mr.Waistcoat and his poshly clad entourage but it was getting harder as the club got busier. Miss Chocolate and I kept and eye out for him and she would always push me in his direction. I would always gracefully return the favour whenever I saw Miss Chocolate's 'Type', however she seemed to be more Gazelle than Lioness when it came down to it and would sprint for the nearest hideout. After a while I got bored of trying with Mr. Waistcoat and pursued someone that was more easily seduced. It didn't take long to lure someone in and we started to attempt idle small talk on a crowded dance floor surrounded by revellers and banging tunes. Before long we were having a soft make-out session and I must say that whilst his face was a tad bristly, he wasn't a bad kisser. I yet again tired of him and moved out again towards Miss Chocolate was seated sipping on a straight Cola as she was driving. It was getting late and I had not yet found a meal to take home. Now I know this sounds like I'm a bit of a Harlequin and all but the thing is all women do it. We all look for a guy when were out to make a move on or to tempt him over to us and buy us a drink or just say 'Hi'. Difference is I'm brave enough to talk about it openly. If a man did it - which they do - it would be seen as normal and probably given a high-five approval. Just because Ive got mammary glands doesn't mean I cant go on the prowl for fresh meat!

Mr. Waistcoat was nowhere to be found, Mr. Coffee wasn't responding, and I had gotten bored with Mr. Bumfuzz. I approached my final target, intent on making this one count. I had seen him around before and smiled and said 'Hey' a few times but now I made my move. Yet again I opened with my full-proof, undefeated line. Hook. Line. Sinker. As we started dancing he softly stroked my left arm as we swayed against the music and lights. It sounds creepy but was actually very sensual. Again another nice young man. That was until I went to touch his arm, but as I went to affectionately return the stroking favour, our hands accidentally bumped into one another. Now usually this wouldn't be an issue, especially maybe in the sort of situation, however it is not usual for his hand to be mangled and twisted in such a way that I nearly recoiled in horror. I kept calm though and willed myself not to look down at his gammy hand. Maybe it was just default? Maybe he just had an erection because you were so hot and was trying to expel it by making funny hands? Besides the rest of him wasn't deformed in any way. I mean it wasn't like I was dancing with Quasimodo or anything. He seemed nice and not in the slightest strange. Pushing this thought to the back of my head, I turned to face my fellow sister of Singlesville. Her face changed as she looked at the clock on her phone. Hearing the music slowly die and the lights start to come on I swiftly left Mr. Take-My-Strowng-Hand and made my way to Miss Chocolates side. Only to discover that I had twelve minutes to make it to my train on time. If I didn't make this one, I would have an hour wait until the next one at 4.15am. Like a strong Ox she pulled me away and pushed me into the path of the newly founded Mr. Waistcoat. Intoxicated, I stood there until I was nudged into asking for his number. I cautiously entered the digits one-by-one in the effort not to fluff up one last attempt at hitting on him. Realising I had minutes to spare I said my goodbyes and left, fleeing into the night like Cinderella.
 
After frantically running to the station I narrowly got on the train before leaving and got home safely. I did however end up throwing up and only managing to reach for my Mothers cherished crystal key bowl on the coffee table. I did a good job of washing up the following morning and I am sure she shall never find out. Disappointingly I didn't see Mr. Coffee but also that I never brought anyone home but maybe that was for the best given my unsettled stomach. On the plus side I have Mr. Waistcoats number and have been talking to him today so we shall see where this one goes, although I don't think it shall go very far, given the circumstances we met upon aren't the most romantical?! We shall have to wait and see ...
 
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx