Blast From The Past!

Hello there, 


Sushi. Is. Life. After the past year maybe of eating shop faux Sushi made from a combination of chicken and seafood, I have finally made the leap to a mainstream sushi bar. Yo! Sushi in Milton Keynes is I am sure probably farthest from genuine and authentic and Asian or Japanese influenced cuisine, however without the luxury of the big smoke to indulge my curiosities in I was forced to seek out as close to the real thing as I can get my little mitts on, Cali-rolls and Spice-Tuna-Things for the win! 

To say that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Miss Tweedle-Dee and it was good to try new things whilst doing my favourite thing with my wages and in my preferred method or socialising, eating out. I am not quite sure what made me feel so good about sushi and hanging out with my best friend - Maybe it was the delight of combining my two favourite things or maybe it was the fact that I was feeling much better in myself. A a good catch up and long chat about anything and everything life had to offer us at the moment was certainly what I needed. Whilst my counselling and therapy has stopped for the short time whilst I am between therapists and Private Vs. NHS, I am taking my medication which seems to be doing it's job. 

Not long before we finished our meal and headed home I approach the subject that I had been wanting to bring up for a while. I felt as though my Tweedles were about the only people I could talk openly and honestly about how I felt without being judged or criticised. Not even Mr. Warehouse would understand I think?! You see waaay back in the days of short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner, there was one of the first Mr's in my life. Mr. Woof. Now let me introduce Mr. Woof to you all, (unless you have been reading along since the beginning and then you will already know who Mr. Woof well and truly is from the Viewer Discretion / NSFW earlier days of writing). 

Mr. Woof and I had been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In class and the playground, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were with me, even being seen around each other was a no-no, but away from it all and what I used to refer to as the "spotlight" he was a completely different person, almost caring or even loving in a way, something that was never shown when around others. As we got older the intensity was stepped up with more secret meets at lunch and break, soon progressing to after school and even into our Saturday morning GCSE revision classes. But the more we played with each other, both metaphorically and emotionally the more I suffered. The double life we both lead between not talking to each other and almost bullying each other whilst in the company of friends and others was a stark comparison to the electricity we shared alone. But I knew what I was doing, course I did, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The secret little affair with the boy who I had a stupidly major crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Yeah, I definitely thought I knew it all (and probably still do) thinking that it will all be so different when we leave High School and go to Sixth Form or College, we can finally be together! Haha what a fool ... 

After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners, settling down with a few serious ones who loved me no matter the company we were in. Whereas Mr. Woof attempted university, dropped out only to discovered drink and drugs all the while continuing to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Over the years he turned into something of a misogynistic womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin around town. Nevertheless though Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him and we were always strictly friends when I was in a relationship as being faithful has always been something I fiercely uphold after some hiccups in my earlier years of teenage-living and my fathers betrayal. 

Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had and at that moment the friendly voice of someone familiar was just what I craved. At the time I was amidst a messy break-up Miss Tweedle-Dee handed me the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. I. Was. Hooked. I couldn't put them down, like everyone I suppose. I decided then to embark on something of my own contract. We had come a long way from my Teenage Dreams Days and so after getting back in contact, Mr. Woof and I began another momentary lapse of loosing our inhibitions and giving into our lustfulness for something we knew so well. Only this time I had some level of control. I had just come out of a long term relationship and wanted something intimate, exciting and confidence boosting. Something NSA to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy days. I suppose in a sense he was the rebound?! When I talk about it like that it seems as though Mr. Woof was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend who was dealing with heartbreak. But I was as much to blame in that as he was. I wanted and needed attention.  I was lacking it both in my job as well as socially as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted and we weren't hurting anyone. 

After sometime however the novelty soon wore off and we again drifted apart, not through Malice or animosity but simply due to life moving off. Over the next few years of difficult dating dilemmas and finally finding someone I really care about I will be honest and say that I thought about Mr Woof less and less. Until that is the other day when I stumbled across an old social media page. I had seen his profile picture and was intrigued to see what he was up to and we had both changed. I knew that he had got married and settle down with some plain-Jane type. I was certainly not prepared for what was to come. 

Clicking the pages on his social media I discovered that not only had he propose and dedicated his life in marriage, but that he now had a child. Knocking me sideways I was taken aback. I don't know, it is not that I am jealous of his wife and young family, far from it and if anything I am glad that he has found his calling in life as a Dad. Maybe it was the fact that in all of our time together, on or off, we had never discussed marriage or kids, even if the intention was not each other. Then again he is a man and they do not tend to discuss marriage for kids as women do. It is just a little surreal for me to think that someone I thought would never even get married or settle down with anyone is now a father and husband. Oh how things change I suppose. 

It has been playing on my mind a lot over the last few days since finding out last week and I just can't put my finger on it. But as I explained in depth and detail, more than I have here to you, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me with a strange expression played across her face as the sushi Carousel continue unknowingly. She didn't need to tell me twice that I was sounding weird and creepy. I came away from our short and brief conversation about Mr. Woof and his family with a heaviness in my heart knowing that time is inevitably ticking along and will soon catch up with me if I am not careful and seeing someone I knew happy makes me feel a little weird about adulting now in the real world. Ahhh someone take me back to the simpler days of Emo bands, short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fifty Shades Finished ...

Evening, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Is It Money Or Love That Makes The World Go Round Again?!

Hi Ya'll, 

What a difference a year makes right? I mean this time last year, pretty much to the day I was in the middle of the Las Vegas holiday of a lifetime and boy is the holiday-blues strong with this one. Never have I ever wanted to go on holiday or go back to a time as with my all american dream holiday - Even if I did argue with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. 

Booking our holiday in January this year, my Tweedles and I are thoroughly looking forward to sunning ourselves on the beaches of Lanzarote and sipping cocktails by the pool. But it just seems so far away! Even the wedding Mr. Warehouse and I are attending in Newquay in Cornwall isn't until a week before my girls holibobs! With the years passing quicker than ever before I think myself and my friends have been severely bitten by the travel bug. Not going to lie - Slightly envious of Miss Tweedle-Dumb and her trips, city-breaks and holidays to Portugal and Paris all planned, I can feel myself turning into a little brat yelling in my head whilst having a tantrum every time someone mentions when they're going on their travels. The green-eyed monster is a-lurking, just what am I going to do! 

Scouring the holiday websites, desperate for some last minute cheap deal, a budget flight or even an offer on a train ticket, I will take whatever I can get so I can make the most of the upcoming Easter bank holiday. But everything is so expensive. And whilst on the one hand I need to pay for my driving lessons and save for a car, a little part of me will always be in search for my next arrival destination! I need more money! I need a pay-rise! I suppose I could work my second part-time job, but the hours aren't that great and its sucky walking home in the cold and dark, even if it is starting to get a little lighter each night. 

"Maybe I should whore myself out?!" I jokingly said to a male work colleague today in the canteen. 
"Yeah you should become one of those phone sex girls, talking dirty and stuff on the phone like you do to some of the customers?!" He replied. 
Slightly taken aback I had always thought about it, ever since my teenage years and even more-so after I separated from Mr. Workaholic and my late-night phone-calls with Mr. Woof started. I recall watching a programme on Channel 4, of all places, called "My Phone Sex Secrets" which opened my mind to the world of possibilities and just how much money can be made from pretending to be filthy, when in actual fact you have your feet up watching Corrie and sipping on tea in your Tigger onesie. 

On looking further into this it seems as though you could make a right little side earner from it, portraying yourself as a strong dominant female who demands you to beg for mercy or a sweet, innocent little something that bright eyed and bushy-tailed straight out of college, and everything in between. Whilst on the one hand I think about some of the kinds of people that call these Phone Sex chat-lines and wonder if their wives of bosses knew of their naughty affairs over the Dog and Bone that cost them upwards of a pound a minute, there is not much that would not make me blush. For example, I do not personally see the appeal of Water Sports, however this is not to say that I would not, or should I say, have not, told someone to drink their own excretions and on occasions even demanded them too, all in the knowledge that whilst I certainly don't get off on them doing it to themselves, a little part of me does enjoy overpowering others. 

Domination has been something of interest for me since I was a teenager, with rough play and borderline BDSM being a sticking point in many if not all of my previous relationships. It thrills me to think that I can have control over someone, just as much sometimes - if not more, that they can have over me. When E. L. James hit the big time with the trilogy of clit-flicks Fifty Shade of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, I was hooked from the moment Miss Tweedle-Dee introduced me to Christian and his Red Room of Pain! Since then however, some idiot decided to turn the whole thing into a shoddily thrown together movie of the first book whereby we learnt that the cast hate each other, the director and the author hate each other and my fanny has just swallowed itself for how shockingly poor that film was. Anyway that was Media Student me popping out to say hello, One minute whilst I beat her back into her fluffy-handcuffs. 

Now where was I? Ahh, yes - Odd arousals! Now you would think that for a women wanting to make a extra bit of cash on the side I would have thought about eBay and other bidding websites. Yes, whilst you can purchase most things from me including Sleepover kits, clothing and make-up, most popular of all seems to be footwear - most of which I have not worn in a while, if ever at all. A shoe enthusiast through and through, and with a growing collection of Sandals, Stilettos and Slip-on's; I would be mad to keep them all when I only have one pair of feet! Strangely though, I have more men buy my foot-houses than women. Peculiar as that may sound, foot fetish is still something of a taboo subject and whilst I have no qualms about foot and/or shoe fetishes, it is not something I find myself able to relate to. But if your willing to pay the price, I don't think there is much I would not sell - Well worn shoes, used brassieres and my silky, sensual tones. Just don't forget the P&P!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Teenage Dreams!

Hello Fellow Humans, 

I have finished with my Googling of Teeth Fetish's and Horny Dental Nurse Porn. Instead I have set my sights the bookshelf of my youth. Ahh yes, my teenage diaries!

I shall invite you this evening into the world of Pre-TATOATS. A universe before the wonderment of college and complicated-ness of adult life as I know it now. First entry is from 2008, a year I remember for all the wrong reasons; Turning seventeen, getting my first boyfriend, first girls holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Prom, Finishing School, Exams and my parents divorce, not to mention what the subsequent months entailed ... 

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01 January 2008
Dear Diary, 
OMG! First day of 2008 and I sat on my bum and did nothing all day. Well not all day but hey-ho! I made a video for Miss Tweedle-Dee (yes I have known her that long!) about Miss Tweedle-Dee. I also watched The Mighty Boosh (of which I am still an avid fan!) and wow it is actually amazzzzing! I love The Mighty Boosh and I love Noel Fielding. He is fit!  Noel Fielding is the best thing ever and I want his babies! Anyway, as I was saying. January. I have lots of things planned already like seeing Elliot Minor (some unknown, unsigned student emo-band I used to be into that apparently made it big!?). So New Years Day means New Years Resolutions which in turn mean that I will make stupid, pathetic little rules about life that I will attempt to follow and yet after two weeks fail miserably and be found in the corner of my music class scoffing galaxy chocolate and lusting after Mr. Woof (yes and him!) as per usual! OMG! that first sentence was so gay?! LOL! (my twenty-year-old self is still impressed with how much Sass I had back then!)
9pm - OK so now I am upstairs and upset. I am so fucked off right now! Stupid brother and his provoking attitude. Little dick splash. Who does he think he is winding me up like that. Needs to grow some pubes the little Knob Stain! Grrrr!

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13 February 2008
Dear Diary, 
So right now I am sitting on my bed listening to my devil of a brother sing The hills are alive. Well I wish they were alive so they would swallow you whole you pathetic little worm. Also went to town today with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I am really glad as I think I unearthed some home-truths. She said that I bounce from Guy to Guy and am a bit of a pinball when it comes to boys, latching myself onto them and getting hurt. Maybe this is because I have never had a proper boyfriend before or been in a real relationship. I hate to say it but I think she is right. (safe to say that my teenage years only reflected directly onto my twenties love-life)

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14 April 2008
Dear Diary, 
Well today has been boring! Although it has gone rather fast and unusually exciting! OMG! LOL! PMSL! ROTFL! LMAO! OK so I am walking home from school and I glance over and see Mr. Prom (a guy I fancied in the first year of High school, went off him for a while and then fell in love with him just before Prom, asked him to be my date at prom, he agreed, we flirted for a while but he never came Prom shopping with me and we didn't get round to sorting anything out for the big night so we never went to Prom together. He became Prom King, some bitch became Prom Queen and I think he is now studying Fitness and playing Rugby at University somewhere in Kent!). Then I hear as I turn away and smile subtly him sing beautifully that song from Pretty Women. I mean Wow! I'm in love! I heart R.C!

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02 June 2008
Dear Diary, 
Nicola (whoever she was) is such a bitch-whore! (at this point teen-me has drawn a picture of a stick man with a hairy bearded fact and wearing a skirt with a dick popping out) God I hate her so much! Apparently I am doing my new job as a school cleaner all wrong and not doing it properly! Well fuck you shit head! (Ahh yes now I know who Nicola was. She was my boss at the time. Large lady with Ginger frizzy hair like Merida from Disney's Brave. We all have those days at work don't we, even now I call people Bitch-whores in my head!)

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25/26 July 2008
Dear Diary, 
So off on holiday today to fucking France yet again (Despite me booking a holiday to Lyon in August this year with Mr. Warehouse - Clearly wasn't that bad!?) but at least this time I am with my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dumb. So once we were on the Ferry and Mom, Dad and Brat Brother had pissed off to find some crappy-shitty reclining chairs, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I thought we would do an all nighter. As we were on the deck though. Haha Poop Deck - LOL. Yeah so as we were on Deck watching the ocean we saw these two guys. Daring Dan and Magic Marc were their names. After stalking them for a while we got chatting. OMG! Dan is so cute (at later glances though I can assure you he was not!) and I think he is well into me (Definitely wasn't as I later found out through Myspace.com that he had a girlfriend)! What could possibly prepare Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I for what happened next. No we didn't have sex! Although I was so ready! (Haha, no I wasn't I was like sixteen and couldn't spell sex if I tried) Once we had stalked and captured our prey Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took them to a secluded, dark and derelict part of the ship (No, not a ship, a ferry). Then IT happened! Dan was spewing some shit about how he gave free hugs (a Japanese thing that I think we all did at school as an excuse to let off some steam and grope one another) but also kisses for a pound. But me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were "Skint" so we were allowed free ones. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was pounced upon with no warning. I was given a more gentle and slow passionate snog! OMG! He was a good kisser. Top five maybe! He was sooo cute about it. "Hair" he said to me as he pulled the hairs from my face and went in for the kill (as if this bloke was some kind of fucking vampire!?). Not gonna lie I have a super big crush on him and his Stars and Straps Hi-Tops! OMFG! He is so scene! Best Holiday ever! (Until years later we went on the first holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Fuerteventura)

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Ahh What I didn't know was round the corner was yet more heart ache, but also fun and frivolous times ahead. As if there wasn't enough already!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Everybody Has A Time ...

Evening All, 

Someone once told me when I was much younger that the phone seldom brings good news when past nine at night. And oh how right they are. 

After a long week at work I was ready to settle down with Mr. Warehouse, chill out with a drink or two over dinner and discuss our busy weekend to come. What with my Daddies big 5-0 party on Saturday evening I was looking forward to getting glammed up and seeing some familiar faces again. Getting my nails done and having a hair-cut I was excited to spend my weekend with loved ones. But as I snuggled into my boyfriends chest, man-boob and all, I could hear my phone vibrating on the side. Flicking on the light, my ringtone kicked in for another repetition I raced to the kitchen to pick it up. It was my Dad. I answered thinking it was something about the party. It wasn't. As I walked back to my bedroom of my small, dark flat I perched myself on the edge of the bed. Feeling hot all of a sudden and with prickles beginning in my eyes I listened carefully to what I was being told. 

My grandfather has not been well for a long time. Ever since I was small I can remember him bribing me or my Brother to get him tit-bits from the kitchen or fetch him something from around the bungalow he shared with my Grandmother. I never remember him being the active type to walk around the garden let alone run after his grandchildren. But as I got older he seemed to take more of a back burner in my life-story, forever there but always playing the part of a extra rather than a starring role. I still loved him, but I suppose a older child, and being the only girl in the family, I don't think he really knew what to do with me. Becoming a teenager I was always rebelling and whilst he was there to stick his ore in a few times I knew that the majority of the time he probably knew best. After retiring and not keeping as active as he was working as a refuse collector for the local council back home he grew larger than he ever had. A mixture of nothing to do and a constantly well stocked cupboard made his weight balloon and over the next few years his weight would fluctuate between looking like a Christmas Turkey and looking like a Turkey whom had got a lucky escape from the December oven. Always being clinically termed "morbidly obese" it never seemed to bother him and I suppose as his family it never really bothered us. Until that was he reached a point of no return. 

With the lack of exercise my Grandfather's legs started to become sore. in time they became infected and had to be dressed and redressed several times a day. At one point us as a family were left wondering that if the infection got any worse that it may lead to amputation. Whilst on crutches the Doctors still encouraged my Granddad to walk, even if it was to the kitchen or to the top of my grandparents highly maintained garden. But he failed to listen. On the odd occasion he could be found in the kitchen standing up or sitting on a stool peeling vegetables for dinner or preparing something yummy for lunch, but more often than not he would be in front of the Telly or on the computer. After progressively getting worse over the next few years he was in and out of hospital with heart problems and even referred to the UK's leading heart hospital in Harefield, just outside of London. Worried we all might loose him I made sure I put in the effort to see him and the family when I could. After a triple heart bypass surgery to fix the dodgy ticker I thought that this would be it and he would not only be back to his old self but be more conscience about what he puts in his mouth and how much more moving he should be doing. But alas, as yet again this fell on deaf ears. 

Last year Granddad had a fall as he was getting in and out the shower. Breaking his leg clean, his Femur was too broken to stand on and so more crutches and a brace was used. Taking its toll on Grandpop's heart he was rushed into hospital again after being allowed home, but after dying on the operating table and having lost more than six-pints of blood, we were lucky as a family to still have him alive. You could say he was a fighter, but if you could fight off death, you could fight off the fat attacking your organs. But even after all of that there was no change in his spirit and after much consideration he was put into a local care home so that the adequate care could be given. And there he has stayed for the past few months.

I try to visit as much as I can and do when I have time but with life as busy as it usually is you could sometimes go weeks forgetting to even call or text. With the lack of "get-up-and-go" Granddad became sneaky, asking family members to smuggle in sweet treats like nuts, seeds, berries and crisps. When he approached me I stood my ground and whilst it was one of the hardest things to do I knew I was doing him good. But ever since that moment My Granddad whom I love and care for dearly has been stand off-ish and is quite frankly rude in some circumstance, leading me several times to put him firmly in his place. The family agreed that for too long we have been soft and that now, more than ever, we needed to take a tough love approach to Granddad and his behaviour. That was until he was rushed into hospital on Friday evening suffering from too much fluid in his lungs and with his heart not strong enough to pump it out I listened intently to what my father told me next. 

"Your Grandfather is going to die. It could be weeks, it could be months, it may even be years - But he is dying" My Dad said out loud. My heart nearly stopped. As I croaked out past the growing frog in my throat I took in and accepted fully what I had already known for months, if not years. "He is dying" I thought. "He is actually, really dying and there is nothing I can do to stop this?!" Hanging up the phone I sat bewildered for a moment. Somehow I had always known this would be the result of over eating and under moving but to finally hear it from the source of a Doctor, passed through the ears of a family to the granddaughter was hard to take in. I am only twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four and never have I ever experienced a death this close. Rising from the bed I went to make a cup of tea, sweet with lots of sugar, a proper little, china tea-cup and all. Coming back to bed I climbed in next to Mr. Warehouse and thought about what was next. With the words solidifying in my head I was left with more questions than answers. "Do we just wait? Wait until another nightly call comes along to inform us that we are no longer with Granddad?" I wondered. 

"Is this really the next chapter in my life? The next thing to go wrong?" mixed round my head with questions about why Mr. Warehouse was here - Was he next in what was seeming to be a long list of boyfriends that only turned up to help me through a difficult point in my life. Mr. Ginge was there when my parents divorced and when I was chucked out by my hateful mother. Mr. Workaholic was there throughout the years of torment form my mother and the separation from my baby brother. Mr. Coffee, Mr. Sick and Mr. Woof were their to fill the gaping hole that Mr. Workaholic had left when we separated. Mr. Cheese was their when I moved into my first ever flat and when I changed careers from stressful credit control to where I am today. Is this the tale of Mr. Warehouse? I hope not! I was starting to really like this one?! The good egg I thought. Maybe "The One"?  I don't want to loose him, but at the same time I have some slight issues with relying on people to be there for me. What with my Grandfather being in hospital all I wanted to do was be enveloped by my boyfriends and his protecting arms, telling me that fairy-tales of how it would be all OK. Equally though I wanted to push him as far away as the moon favouring myself and my own company in comparison to leaning emotionally on yet another boy who would break my heart. 

"Why do people have to get old?!" I sobbed into my cooling tea-cup, feeling very much like a child whom had just found their goldfish belly up. "Why does this have to happen now?" I sniffled for now I am in the knowledge that my Grandpop's will never see me get married. He will never hold his great grandchildren in his arms. He will never come round and throw himself into my sofa in a house I have just bought. No, he will never see those things. Not only am I feeling angry and bitter that he has let this happen to himself, selfishly not only letting our family down but more disappointingly, letting himself down. We have always been a big family and with weight being a constant issue for us all, I think it is safe to say that this has given us a gentle nudge to do something about it before it gets to the stage whereby we are all too old and frail to stop it from killing us. 

After speaking to Mr. Warehouse and Miss Tweedle-Dumb well into the small hours of Saturday morning I soon feel asleep holding my tea-cup, now empty. Upon waking everything seemed normal, until Mr. Warehouse mentioned the night before and suddenly it all came flooding horrendously back to me. Gathering myself together, Mr. Warehouse and I packed for our weekend away back home in Luton and with plans to see my Granddad on Sunday I was hoping for some fun to brighten my mood. And Saturday night certainly did not disappoint! Squaddies dressed in offencive camp outfits, high-heeled tumbles and even the odd boogie on the dance-floor it was a definite winner in terms of pick-me-up's. With all the old faces from my childhood I found myself getting wasted with the best of them, and even had a cheeky "Special Cigarette" with my Dad's best friend from Somerset. 

But as I write to you now, eyes heavy with the call of my bed, I am only thinking of one person. Whether it be in two weeks or in two months, I can almost guarantee that by the time Christmas arrives, there will be one less Santa in my world. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fifty Shades of Dismay!

Hello one and all, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Dog's Life ...

Evening all,
 
So after my girlie weekend away I have come back relaxed and refreshed. It hasn't been without its spills though. nearly becoming human ice-cubes waiting for a cab after going to the theatre, arguments over who stank out the bathroom last and living off of pizza and fizzy drinks for an entire weekend are all highlights, not to mention the fact that I we all played truth or dare for many hours whilst getting unsuccessfully drunk. However this weekend has been much of an eye-opener to me, although Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb shall never know. Being away from my home area made me realise how secretly lonely I am. I mean I'm not going to be investing in a cat any time soon ... I'm not that lonely, but It did make me think about my relationship status and even more so about putting myself up on the shelf again. Thing is though, its a high shelf and a log way to fall if it all goes wrong again. That and how ca I guarantee that I wont just be left there? I know I'm only young at 21 but I found myself straying from the girls, wondering round the baby section of an expensive department store; cooing and touching all the toys and blankets, clothes and furnishings for a child's nursery. A familiar feeling returned to me that reminded me that, whilst on contraception and not wanting to start a family until I had a marriage and stability, my biological clock was ticking by. I tried to bring up the subject as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I traipsed around. Strangely it was Miss Tweedle-Dee who sympathised and expressed the same concern, whereas Miss Tweedle-Dumb who is settled and in a steady relationship is not so worried. It truly terrifies me that I shall get to an age where I have nothing to show for my time on this planet, not a marriage, career or child in site. Just me. Alone. I am praying that this is never the case.
 
On a lighter note, the girls and I all made a trip to a well-know 'adult' high street store and whilst a very British me just blushed and stood around looking embarrassed and out of place, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb decided to invest in a 'life-enhancing personal device'. After much negotiation and begging they gave in with trying to convince me to buy one and themselves went up to the counter and completed their seedy purchases separately. I on the other hand, within minutes of getting home on the Sunday evening was online looking at things that vibrate, swivel, pulse, gyrate, bend and twist. Its ordered for delivery tomorrow. At work. I hope its not too obvious. Could be quite awkward explaining away a buzzing box to the boss? Its not that I'm frigid or non-sexual, Its just that I'm indifferent to it. If you offered me sex with the right person (and from previous experience the wrong ones too) I would gladly oblige. But somehow self-exploration is way down on my to do list of a night. I would much rather eat unhealthy snacks and watch telly wrapped up in bed, thank-you. Funnily enough I was discussing this with Mr. Mot last week. He had asked why I didn't 'indulge' and I responded in the only way I know how - I giggled and brushed it off. But there is no getting around Mr. Mot, oh-no; so I gave in and spilled. "Why should I bother trying to do it myself and get no-where when I can just find someone who can do it much better than I can and produce better results?" At this point I had rather pissed on Mr. Mot's bonfire as I think he was hoping that the conversation would progress in its usual late-night manner. I tried to explain that ever since I was sexually curious there had always been someone around to lend a hand as it were. They came and they went but my most constant and regular entertainer was a big secret to all who knew me in school.

Mr. Woof liked the oddest of things, hence the naming here. We have been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In school, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were but behind a few closed corridor doors and next to my green locker he was a demanding animal that like to rule and be ruled. Mr. Woof had a fondness for his own nipples being pleasured and enjoyed me playing with them very much. Several times we nearly got caught in the act, and I am sure that on many occasions my tutor knew something odd was happening outside her classroom - I mean, who spends nearly three hour-long lunchtimes a week standing by a locker "hugging" a friend. As we got older the intensity was stepped up. Math class was shared sitting next to each other whilst Mr. Woof's hands wandered over my school skirt and I talked to him about the work in a low, sensual voice. During a Saturday morning revision class Mr. Woof and I met early and went into one of the new recently built toilets. There we experimented with soft foreplay, biting, sucking, scratching. The fact that I was wearing glasses and had purposely worn red lipstick was something of a turn on for him, even now. I knew what I was doing, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The little affair with the boy who I had a crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Of course all secrets come out eventually and after that everything was on hold for a while until it quietened down again. But I had lost a good friend and lots of other pals had also turned there backs on me because of the leaked liaisons.

After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners and loose my virginity with someone who actually meant something to me, whereas he attempted university, dropped out discovered drink and drugs and continued to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Mr. Woof turned into something of a womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin. Rumour had it he lost his virginity to a forty year-old beside the bins at the back of a local pub. Classy! Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him. Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had with a "Hi, how are you?" and a person to make me laugh which was hard at that time. After reading the Fifty Shades novels I decided to embark on something of my own contract. And so we began another affair. Again I knew what I was getting into, but unlike in school where by I had a major crush on this guy, I had just come out of a long term relationship and needed something that was no-strings-attached fun. Something to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy day. Mostly it was just phone calls, usually relieving Mr. Woof of some form. Any time I would be there to answer his calls - late night, my lunch hour at work, even three-in the morning; you name it I did every possible shift. A round the clock help-line I suppose. But I enjoyed it, it brought me relief and helped me boost my self-esteem. Admittedly Mr. Woof was into some weirder things now we were older, ad I don't suppose Fifty Shades helped either. Strap-on's, dressing him in women's clothes, nipple clamps, name-calling and spitting were all part an parcel of our verbally drawn up contract. For once I wasn't on the receiving end and was able to dish out punishment like mash at dinner time. On one occasion, late at night I had grown tired and was knowledgeable to the fact that he was close and so told him to bark for me. Mr. Woof hesitated at first but after demanding it he obliged and barked softly. Upon further instruction from his mistress he woofed louder at which point must have felt good as he finished, panting that it was the best session yet.

Encounters like this make me smile with happiness, knowing that I can bring pleasure and relief to someone is a good feeling and to be in control and dominate someone id a great feeling I had never experienced before Mr. Woof came along - pardon the pun. I like the fact that nothing is hidden, all cards are on the table and we ca be honest about the fact that what we have be it past and future is no strings attached fun with no feelings getting involved and therefore avoiding a messy end situation. And whilst we are not in contact at the moment, I am sure that it wont be before long that he has finished with the most recent Beau on the block and comes crawling back to his mistress!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx