Can you use the word "Dope" still at Twenty-Eight?

Heyy, 

Finally a night in for myself! Mr Warehouse dropped off at the pub and with my semi-healthy chicken salad kebab on stand-by I settled in for the night, feeding the hounds and getting comfy on the couch. It had been so long that I could barely contain my excitement when Mr Warehouse had said he was going to the pub and asked me for a lift. Gladly I dropped him off and anticipated an early-ish night. Mr Warehouse had joined Mr CWG for a night of laughs and lads banter at his old local in the next village over. But now I was home, as the night sky turned darker I had back to back Teen Mom UK, Teen Mom OG and all-new American Horror Story to catch up on. I was very much enjoying my overdue night in front of the box, well that was until I realised that a house is bigger than the old flat and after watching American Horror Story I promptly went around and locked all doors and windows, just in case you know ... 

Soon enough though I got a message. It was legible and spelt correctly so assumed that my future husband was totally fine and had not had too much sauce. However, as I pulled up outside the pub I was greeted by a rather sobered-up Mr CWG, however, Mr Warehouse, my darling sweet boy was absolutely sozzled. Bidding farewell and with promises of seeing each other within a few hours for my birthday party/get-together the following day, I proceeded to take Mr Warehouse home for a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol with a side order of bucket-by-the-bed. 

Pulling away I was met with screams as my burly bae decided that we were going to hit every car that was coming in the opposite direction. This was not the case and as I poodled down the at speed limit of thirty miles an hour, I was told that I was going "far too fast" and to "slow the fuck down". Nearly wetting myself with laughter I must admit I was barely able to keep my eyes open and on the road for how funny this all was. That was until, baring in mind that it was past midnight, I was overtaken by a motorcycle. 
"OOOH HARRY YOUR A WEEEZAAARD!" I heard Mr Warehouse exclaim in the actual worst Scottish accent I have ever heard. Unable to contain the laughter, it only egged him on as he carried on shouting and yelling that "yeeer a weeezaaard Harry! A weezard!" 

Squealing round every bend, twist and turn along the country roads, we finally arrived home, although not before me as the glorified taxi driver was groped and had to tell my gorgeous man off for fiddling with the radio and insisting that he played Heart FM, probably one of the worst things to listen to in the dead of night. Heading indoors we were greeted by the puppies and Mr Warehouse made a dash for the fridge, berating me that I had serviced myself in terms of getting a kebab and yet he was practically starving and wasting away! Hardly. 

Slamming a chicken burger into the microwave and heading to the toilet I thought that the special bucket (originally bought I think as we really tried with the whole adulting thing and planned to use it for washing up or cleaning however was now only reserved for really special nights out whereby someone has gone in a little too hard). Heading upstairs it was only a matter of moments before I was being preached too about the warnings of alcohol abuse and how Mr Warehouse "will never drink again", shortly followed by some long stints hanging out in our bathroom, blowing it from both ends the messy fuck. Least he had the special bowl with him for company as after asking if he was OK all alone in there I soon drifted off to sleep.  

The following morning I was yet again awoken to Frankenstein's borderline nauseating whining and crying and bitching! Oh ma gaad! When will this dog learn I will come down, eventually. I just wanted a fucking lay-in! Attending to him at a stark 6am, only a matter of hours after I fell asleep, leaving my betrothed on the bog with his head in a bucket of his own vomit. The house was far from party-ready and I was seriously reconsidering a cancellation, maybe faking illness or something just so I could lounge about all day in my PJ's and eat cake and binge on American Horror Story, this time in the daylight so the monsters don't seem so real. Returning Frankenstein to his cage and heading back to bed myself I knew it wouldn't be long before his whimpers and cries awake me once more. 

As morning broke, I greeted a very sore-headed bear downstairs and continued the war effort in order to get the place poppin' ready for some drinking and some partying. However, as 4pm rolled around, the start of the party, I realised by the number of cancellations that kept flooding through that there would only be a very select few that would actually turn up. I did, however, polish off nearly a whole bottle of Gin and shared a bottle (OK maybe shared was a strong word as it was barely half a glass) of prosecco with my Auntie, and many, many a Slimming World Syn in the sausage rolls and corn dogs - a feeble homage to my American bezzie Mrs Tweedle-Dumb who couldn't be here to share in this day a part of it!

The day itself went well and I enjoyed the company of all those bitches that could be arsed to turn up. I was spoilt too with pressies of wine and gin and Baileys Strawberries and Cream. From Miss Tweedle-Dee I received a stunning Morphe make-up Palette, along with a bottle of my fave perfume (Clean Rain if anyone is asking for Xmas!) and a super unique horror-film-inspired charm bracelet complete with Freddie, Jason and Chuckie encased in silver, and that was just to name a few. My lovely step-parents (Miss Tweedle-Dee's Mom and Dad) bought me a Pink Gin gift set, a Bathbomb advent calender and set of make-up brushes. Mr Warehouse spoilt me and showered me (literally) or maybe should I say bathed me in about ten different bath bombs, all from my fave store - LUSH, along with some HomeSense Schpoopy candles smelling like pumpkin shit and other fucking dope autumn smells (I'm twenty-eight can I use "dope" now?) and another stunning make-up palette, this time "Take me back to brazil" by BeautyBay. I was certainly spoilt and now am looking forward to counting down the last few days until I can finally say ... It's a year 'til my wedding day!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad?

Hi!

So one week on from being the "The Goldilocks of Dress Shopping" and following the so-called biggest wedding show in the UK - The National Wedding Show, I just cannot stop thinking about that dress! Which one you may ask? Well, after stepping into the final store of the day and with my entourage of Mrs Tweedle-Dumb & Miss Tweedle-Dee for company lagging behind from lack of caffeine, sugar and sleep most likely, I picked out a few dresses that I was happy to try on and headed through to the dressing room. 

Each of them I tried on and each of them I loved more than the last. I realised only after leaving the shop and flicking through the photos that my bridesmaids took of me wearing the gowns was that actually, I had already tried on two of them in a different store next door to the bridal boutique where I won the afternoon tea experience. Now I must say that at this point if I have already tried on the same dress twice then it must say a lot about it and how I feel wearing it. Although the full gather skirt on the Camellia Ball Gown gives the most incredible shape with the beaded lace appliques making for the ultimate princess gown, I had fallen for Tilly, a very similar glamorous take on a classic sweetheart wedding dress with yet more feminine tulle skirt which floated as I walked and once again, finished with irresistible appliqués in the Northampton branch of Wed2B. But whilst were just as beautiful as each other, and mostly fitted well considering my odd sizing, they were not the one dazzling my head when daydreaming. The dress in question was Letitia. The exclusive Platinum Edition waterfall ball gown was the ultimate princess wedding dress. With long creamy folds and layers detailing the skirt and the luxurious bodice, encrusted with beaded embroidery adding the perfect sparkle. 

However despite Mrs Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, the lady who was helping me, and her colleagues all telling me that I looked beautiful and stunning at the time in the shop, I just wasn't feeling it. With each curtain swish to reveal the outfit, I could tell everyone was growing impatient but with the biggest expense so far I was hesitant to say yes to the dress. I suppose just being in receipt of something so expensive I will only wear for a few hours is in itself a little daunting. 

That is why this week I have decided to take up the task of not only trying to secure a caterer but also to have a look online for a wedding dress. My first go to was eBay as I figured that most of the styles I like would be there on the website both used and new. I was right! Hammering down some of my choices in the filters tabs I was looking for something that would resemble a combination of Tilly, Camellia and Letitia. As I have said before, I am not searching for the floods of tears, whoops and holla's that I would expect from a "Say yes to the dress" TV moment, but I do need a dress that is going to tell a story about me and how unique and funny and different I am. I need it to embrace my curves and show off my incredible parts and hide those that I don't like so much. I need something that says "That is so her". I need a dress that says me without me even wearing it. Continuing my search online, I have yet to find the one, but I am optimistic in finding it and maybe I will have a little rest until maybe some family are over in the summer and we can go again. In the meantime, however, I will record more episodes of Say Yes To The Dress UK. 

Confetti & Lace for over three decades has provided a personal and professional service to all brides but the best bit is that the store opens their doors time and time again to the hit TLC television program following brides on a quest to find the perfect gown for their big day. With the help of David Emanuel, the designer of Princess Diana's iconic wedding dress, Gown designer Christine Dando and the attentive staff with all their knowledge and expertise the help to guidance to the show's brides (and their sometimes testing entourage too) gets intense on the journey to find the to the dress of their dreams! Uhh if that doesn't scream Saturday indoors with blankets and PJ's, I don't know what does!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx