Hey,
Another Friday and another trip to the vets. This time was for our monthly flea, worm and tick treatment for Frankenstein. I was glad for this occasion though as we were able to have a consultation regarding my fur-babies growth.
Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question. Shall I stud him out like some sort of doggo pimp? Or protect his innocence and get him castrated? Neutering means surgically preventing pets from reproducing and in males, the operation is called castration. With castration, both testicles are removed which takes away the main source of the male hormone testosterone. The operation is carried out under general anaesthetic and whilst every surgical procedure has some risk, modern techniques are very safe and help to make the whole thing as quick and easy as possible. Because it involves surgery, there will be some discomfort but with modern pain control, most dogs are up and about just a few hours after they’ve had their operation.
Whilst it is possible to get injections and tablets to prevent my little Frankenstein from breeding, these need repeating regularly and there is some risk of side effects as well as the added on ongoing cost. This was something I considered however this seems a pointless exercise when I have no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money.
From Frankenstein's humble beginnings as an accidental litter following a friend of my future mother-in-law (her husband who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia, unfortunately, one night back in early December last year let the breeding stud in with the family pet) my gorgeous little jack russell toy poodle cross was finally coming of age as he reached six-month mark. After being born around Valentine's day, along with his nine other brothers and sisters, our Frankenstein was reaching his sexual maturity and the conversation needed to be had regarding being left fully "intact" or to get him the snip.
I had a look at a lot of online forums, websites and even chatted with a few friends and colleagues who had to make dogs. Most of them, including the vet, nurse and puppy class trainer has said that essentially it would be unfair to let him have a taste and then deny him that again, especially if I did not plan to stud regularly or as a permanent fixture in his life. A great website in the UK for the charity Blue Cross had some helpful advice that helped me in making my decision. "There are lots of health, behavioural and social reasons why neutering your dog can be a good idea and for female dogs in particular, but neutering is not right for every dog but the fact that castration significantly reduces the chance of males getting prostate disease and reduces the risk of some cancers not to mention it can have a beneficial effect on behaviour." Blue Cross advises owners. Obviously, as an owner, there are many benefits as an unneutered dog is much more likely to direct their amorous intentions towards your favourite sofa; Or your visiting auntie. It is for this reason and the fact I don't really have a clue or plan in place that it would be unfair to let Frankie have a taste and to then take it away, probably causing more issues in the long run.
With this decision made and I suppose as a way of celebrating my little boys coming of age and moving from his toddler months into teenage-hood, I did what any good mom would do and take him for his first haircut. Starting our day well I had breakfast and shared my coffee with the little hairball before popping on some trainers and buckling him into the front seat of Clifford, my big red car. Sitting on my passenger seat and trundling through the country roads into Bedford Town Centre I looked down to the bundle of cuteness. Fluffy yet bedraggled and scruffy, like one of those typical skater boys your momma told you not to hang around with.
Pulling up and into the groomers, we walked in, skipping all the way. As I left empty-handed though I felt a little lost and as though I had missed something. I occupied myself by heading to a local charity shop and picking up a Disney babygrow for his operation in a few weeks time. As I were to cut a hole for his tail it would be perfect to protect his stitches from chewing and nibbling, and a darn sight cheaper than the fifteen-quid one the vet tried to flog me.
Picking him up from the groomers he smelt so fresh and cuddly, fluffy and soft as rabbit fur. A combination of puppy and baby powder he smelt like a dream! Paying the lady, Frankie and I headed back to the car but not before picking up a few treats for the good boy. As we drove the short distance down to Bedford town centre to walk along the river and meet my Dad for lunch I looked down again at the fluffy, powder-smelling pup sat beside me and as a song played on the radio I realised that this, in fact, was the happiest I had been for a while.
Finishing off our Momma and Puppa day out I was pleased when, after our walk along the river my black and tan Jackapoo with a white belly and old-man facial expressions retired to a posh riverside gastro-pub to meet with my Dad. One of his first questions seemed to resonate with me as I drove home in the summer sun that afternoon. As I looked down to my passenger seat and at Frankenstein's little face he glanced up and looked up at me, his every being dependant on me for all of what he needs I felt a sense of contentment. From this time last year to now was amazing. I was driving my own car after leaving a house I now owned with my fiance who I am due to marry next year with my new puppy beside me. This was everything I ever wanted and more.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Teenager. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teenager. Show all posts
Monday, 5 August 2019
Monday, 19 October 2015
A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Nostalgia!
Hello Dear's,
So after last week, sunning it up in the not-so-party-town of Kavos on the Greek island of Corfu I am glad to be back in the swing of things here at home in England. I have settled back into reality nicely and with the build up to Christmas well on its way I am excited more than ever for what the coming weeks are going to be bringing me in terms of socialising and fun-times.
Although last week was a chance for me to indulge myself in music with friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. A chance to escape back to the days of school, exams and secret rendezvous with class mates after the bell had rung! Back to the days before rent was due and my desk was seeing more of me than my little flat. Back then the walls of my bedroom were plastered with posters of Indie boy bands and "Emo" musicians. I was a fully fledged "Emo" with long hair, blacked eyes and a taste for the dark side. One band that adorned my bedroom and many a front cover of school text books was a band called Fall Out Boy. Now you have been warned, this is me going into full blown fan-girl mode, so watch out!
So ... Super hot cutie, Patrick Stump, heads up the band and has been playing the role commonly known as Fat-Pat (or at least in my friend circle) since before I became obsessed with them in 2007/2008. Also in the band is Penis-show-off, Pete Wentz (Penis Picture can be seen here for those that did not get enough of it last time). Other Fall Out Boy members also include that awesome drummer, Andy Hurley, who looks strangely like my first boyfriend Mr. Ginge and not to forget Tim Burton Wanna-Be, Guitarist Joe Trohman (the resemblance is uncanny). They were formed back in America somewhere probably when I was still running around with my hair in pigtails and singing something by Aqua.
Several years later I find myself singing the lyrics to songs I just knew were written for me and my teenage angsty love affairs with boys who never noticed me. Those albums and songs bonded me and my father in a united passion of rock and punk as he also had a love of the dark side, and with bands such as Green Day and ACDC playing a role in my Dad's life growing up, they also formed a part of mine. But were a misunderstood bunch us Emo, Scene-Kid, Goth, and many other variants are all seen in the same line as freaks and outcasts from society, at least that's how I saw and felt it back in school. My friend circle back then was a mixture of all sorts of young people that didn't fit into the normal stereotypes of school - The Geeks, The Jocks, The Preps, The Populars. I and my friends were none of those. So we took ahold of a small bit of land near the library and called ourselves The Unwanted.
Nevertheless I grew up from those days with a clear outline of what I wanted from life but more importantly who I was and who I am inside. I am a rock chick through and through and when faced with any opportunity of going out on the town, even to this very day, I don a thick black smokey eye. So I suppose music did in a way shape my future as well as my past and the band called Fall Out Boy was a massive part of it. So of course I was over the moon and back with joy when I found out that my girlie's, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had not only bought me tickets to go and see Dreamboys (this coming Friday and to be widely discussed next week) but also tickets to see my beloved Fall Out Boy.
Belting out the lyrics to Sugar Were Going Down and Dance Dance, standing in an extremely hot and sweaty Wembley Arena next to my best-est friends in the whole wide world I knew that I had grown up a lot since the last time I saw Fall Out Boy live. Much had happened since the last time I had seen there face as again part of special birthday outing. But this time I felt much older than some of the other teeny-bops there. Which got me wondering ... Should I hang up the fingerless leather gloves and throw dinner parties instead of heading out out? Naah!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week, sunning it up in the not-so-party-town of Kavos on the Greek island of Corfu I am glad to be back in the swing of things here at home in England. I have settled back into reality nicely and with the build up to Christmas well on its way I am excited more than ever for what the coming weeks are going to be bringing me in terms of socialising and fun-times.
Although last week was a chance for me to indulge myself in music with friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. A chance to escape back to the days of school, exams and secret rendezvous with class mates after the bell had rung! Back to the days before rent was due and my desk was seeing more of me than my little flat. Back then the walls of my bedroom were plastered with posters of Indie boy bands and "Emo" musicians. I was a fully fledged "Emo" with long hair, blacked eyes and a taste for the dark side. One band that adorned my bedroom and many a front cover of school text books was a band called Fall Out Boy. Now you have been warned, this is me going into full blown fan-girl mode, so watch out!
So ... Super hot cutie, Patrick Stump, heads up the band and has been playing the role commonly known as Fat-Pat (or at least in my friend circle) since before I became obsessed with them in 2007/2008. Also in the band is Penis-show-off, Pete Wentz (Penis Picture can be seen here for those that did not get enough of it last time). Other Fall Out Boy members also include that awesome drummer, Andy Hurley, who looks strangely like my first boyfriend Mr. Ginge and not to forget Tim Burton Wanna-Be, Guitarist Joe Trohman (the resemblance is uncanny). They were formed back in America somewhere probably when I was still running around with my hair in pigtails and singing something by Aqua.
Several years later I find myself singing the lyrics to songs I just knew were written for me and my teenage angsty love affairs with boys who never noticed me. Those albums and songs bonded me and my father in a united passion of rock and punk as he also had a love of the dark side, and with bands such as Green Day and ACDC playing a role in my Dad's life growing up, they also formed a part of mine. But were a misunderstood bunch us Emo, Scene-Kid, Goth, and many other variants are all seen in the same line as freaks and outcasts from society, at least that's how I saw and felt it back in school. My friend circle back then was a mixture of all sorts of young people that didn't fit into the normal stereotypes of school - The Geeks, The Jocks, The Preps, The Populars. I and my friends were none of those. So we took ahold of a small bit of land near the library and called ourselves The Unwanted.
Nevertheless I grew up from those days with a clear outline of what I wanted from life but more importantly who I was and who I am inside. I am a rock chick through and through and when faced with any opportunity of going out on the town, even to this very day, I don a thick black smokey eye. So I suppose music did in a way shape my future as well as my past and the band called Fall Out Boy was a massive part of it. So of course I was over the moon and back with joy when I found out that my girlie's, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had not only bought me tickets to go and see Dreamboys (this coming Friday and to be widely discussed next week) but also tickets to see my beloved Fall Out Boy.
Belting out the lyrics to Sugar Were Going Down and Dance Dance, standing in an extremely hot and sweaty Wembley Arena next to my best-est friends in the whole wide world I knew that I had grown up a lot since the last time I saw Fall Out Boy live. Much had happened since the last time I had seen there face as again part of special birthday outing. But this time I felt much older than some of the other teeny-bops there. Which got me wondering ... Should I hang up the fingerless leather gloves and throw dinner parties instead of heading out out? Naah!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 17 August 2015
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 ...
---
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!
---
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)
---
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!
---
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!)
---
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)
---
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
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 ...
---
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!
---
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)
---
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!
---
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!)
---
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)
---
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
Monday, 10 August 2015
A Smile Is The Best Fashion Accessory!
Afternoon,
So after last weeks torturous and slightly S&M evening with Mr. Masseuse (No Pain, No Gain! - If you haven't read it you need to .. Its Hilarious!!!) I was glad of a somewhat mundane week at work with an uneventful weekend to follow.
I was not however looking forward to the dentists appointment though. Several weeks ago I had gone for my first check up in over seven-years since I left school, aged sixteen. Terrified as a child after having some surgery and not being given enough drugs to knock me the fuck out I woke half way through the procedure and with eyes flashing wildly to gain the attention of the dental staff I was otherwise paralysed, forced to watch and feel as they drilled and burrowed into my tiny mouth.
Another reason why I was so frightened of the Dentist as a teen was mainly because the appointments always seemed to crop up on a Wednesday or a Thursday - The days I used to finish school early and meet the boys after school for some more "advance classes" and "extra tuition" if you follow my drift. So scared I was of getting caught in the act I would rush home after one of these "sessions" and brush my teeth in a bid to rid my mouth of any evidence. I don't know why. I was like fifteen and thought that the Dentist would peer into my mouth and turn to my mother and say
"I am sorry but it looks like your daughter has been sucking dick. What do you propose we do with this then, Hmm?" Genuinely scared, even as I sat in the scary leany-backy chair that they would look at my pearly whites and see residue of something that shouldn't have been there. It humoured me slightly to think that when I was lying in a similar chair on Saturday Morning.
Preparing myself I had already called the surgery in advance and asked about the procedure and what would happen, what would be done and what I should bring. Of course I knew all the answers myself and in all honesty could have easily saved not only my time and lunch break but also my dignity, especially when I asked if someone could come in and hold my hand. And yes, just to remind you I will be twenty-four in nearly a months time!
Saturday morning I awoke and rolled over to a bemused Mr. Warehouse.
"What exactly is so funny?" I asked croakily through tousled bed hair and blurred vision.
"Today is the day!" Mr. Warehouse chirped and after asking what he was on about a shuddering noise rang through me, knocking out any hope of a cheeky lye-in. It was Mr. Warehouse - Making drilling noises and humming the Jaws theme tune. And as he nonchalantly laughed off his lad-ish "banter" I secretly made a mental note not to place anything in long and hard in my mouth other than a toothbrush before 9am.
Getting up and dressed I bought time by Googling pointless things of interest like Puppies and John Wayne Gacy paintings (If you haven't seen them or even know who he is then I give you permission to seek out your inner sicko and Google this man and his heinous crimes) - Yes I have a fluctuating mindset sometimes. Nevertheless it was soon time to leave but as I made my way out of my flat, followed shortly by Mr. Warehouse I was yet again greeted by the deathly hum's growling form Mr. Warehouse's voice box, of which I was very close to ripping out. He was not very nice to me that day!
Arriving at the surgery, again like the last time I visited it was baking hot and I was thankful for the empty waiting room and friendly receptionist. Unlike last time I came for a check up, whereby I was over forty-minutes early because Mr. Warehouse had rushed me out the door, I only had a few moments to wait before I was called for. And so, up the wooden staircase I ascended, dramatically thinking as I always do that I may never return and I somehow may meet my death in a Sweeney Todd Style Murder a la Dental Practise. But as soon as I walked into the room and was greeted with the same, slightly foreign and overly-made-up dentist I was at ease - slightly!?
As the chair reclined once more I opened my mouth wide and stuck in my headphones with a preplanned playlist consisting of mostly club but certainly all loud songs ranging from guilty pleasure hit "Don't Call Me Baby - Madison Avenue" to the 2003 smash "Milkshake - Kelis" and even a new favourite of mine "Gimme Head - Shystie" which is vocally, erm, interesting, but more importantly would definitely take my mind of Miss Tooth-Decay drilling away in my moush. But as I felt the prickly jab of the needle going into my gums, flooding my mouth with local anaesthetic, I tried to relax. Liking the fact I had already put together a compilation of my favourite tunes for my impending doom at the Dental Surgery. I even got a chance to relax enough to tap my toes to a few beats. I had somewhat even started to enjoy the drilling sensation and started to play silly games like running away from the mini-sucky-thing they use!
But before I had even got a chance to get to some of the better song on my playlist of pleasantness the chair was re-clining back up to an upright position. Taking my headphones off my ear holes I asked if that was it. My kind Dentist friend nodded and went on to say how well I did. "I wonder if I am going to get one of those overly-sized stickers for being such a good girl today?" I thought to myself as I listened to her saying something about flossing more. Woozy from the injections and sudden, unexpected right-angle position I found myself in I exclaimed that I felt like a cat, feeling my swollen face and cheeks, checking that I didn't in fact look like a balloon. Thanking my Dentist and nurse I exited the room and descended the stairs, without the body bag and still very much alive. As I turned into the main staircase there he was, Mr. Warehouse, waiting patiently for me with a concerned yet proud look on his face. I knew he had not been there for the full time I had been in but I appreciated the little white lie he told me, despite not being able to uphold it later on when questioned. I made an appointment for February next year and promised to see them soon. I don't know if I will go in six months for sure, but rest assured I am slightly less scared of the Dentist, although I am not fully cured. I will now be on my way to alleviate any more worry and have a giggle by Googling tooth fetishes and dental depravities. Good Night Mon Frere's!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last weeks torturous and slightly S&M evening with Mr. Masseuse (No Pain, No Gain! - If you haven't read it you need to .. Its Hilarious!!!) I was glad of a somewhat mundane week at work with an uneventful weekend to follow.
I was not however looking forward to the dentists appointment though. Several weeks ago I had gone for my first check up in over seven-years since I left school, aged sixteen. Terrified as a child after having some surgery and not being given enough drugs to knock me the fuck out I woke half way through the procedure and with eyes flashing wildly to gain the attention of the dental staff I was otherwise paralysed, forced to watch and feel as they drilled and burrowed into my tiny mouth.
Another reason why I was so frightened of the Dentist as a teen was mainly because the appointments always seemed to crop up on a Wednesday or a Thursday - The days I used to finish school early and meet the boys after school for some more "advance classes" and "extra tuition" if you follow my drift. So scared I was of getting caught in the act I would rush home after one of these "sessions" and brush my teeth in a bid to rid my mouth of any evidence. I don't know why. I was like fifteen and thought that the Dentist would peer into my mouth and turn to my mother and say
"I am sorry but it looks like your daughter has been sucking dick. What do you propose we do with this then, Hmm?" Genuinely scared, even as I sat in the scary leany-backy chair that they would look at my pearly whites and see residue of something that shouldn't have been there. It humoured me slightly to think that when I was lying in a similar chair on Saturday Morning.
Preparing myself I had already called the surgery in advance and asked about the procedure and what would happen, what would be done and what I should bring. Of course I knew all the answers myself and in all honesty could have easily saved not only my time and lunch break but also my dignity, especially when I asked if someone could come in and hold my hand. And yes, just to remind you I will be twenty-four in nearly a months time!
Saturday morning I awoke and rolled over to a bemused Mr. Warehouse.
"What exactly is so funny?" I asked croakily through tousled bed hair and blurred vision.
"Today is the day!" Mr. Warehouse chirped and after asking what he was on about a shuddering noise rang through me, knocking out any hope of a cheeky lye-in. It was Mr. Warehouse - Making drilling noises and humming the Jaws theme tune. And as he nonchalantly laughed off his lad-ish "banter" I secretly made a mental note not to place anything in long and hard in my mouth other than a toothbrush before 9am.
Getting up and dressed I bought time by Googling pointless things of interest like Puppies and John Wayne Gacy paintings (If you haven't seen them or even know who he is then I give you permission to seek out your inner sicko and Google this man and his heinous crimes) - Yes I have a fluctuating mindset sometimes. Nevertheless it was soon time to leave but as I made my way out of my flat, followed shortly by Mr. Warehouse I was yet again greeted by the deathly hum's growling form Mr. Warehouse's voice box, of which I was very close to ripping out. He was not very nice to me that day!
Arriving at the surgery, again like the last time I visited it was baking hot and I was thankful for the empty waiting room and friendly receptionist. Unlike last time I came for a check up, whereby I was over forty-minutes early because Mr. Warehouse had rushed me out the door, I only had a few moments to wait before I was called for. And so, up the wooden staircase I ascended, dramatically thinking as I always do that I may never return and I somehow may meet my death in a Sweeney Todd Style Murder a la Dental Practise. But as soon as I walked into the room and was greeted with the same, slightly foreign and overly-made-up dentist I was at ease - slightly!?
As the chair reclined once more I opened my mouth wide and stuck in my headphones with a preplanned playlist consisting of mostly club but certainly all loud songs ranging from guilty pleasure hit "Don't Call Me Baby - Madison Avenue" to the 2003 smash "Milkshake - Kelis" and even a new favourite of mine "Gimme Head - Shystie" which is vocally, erm, interesting, but more importantly would definitely take my mind of Miss Tooth-Decay drilling away in my moush. But as I felt the prickly jab of the needle going into my gums, flooding my mouth with local anaesthetic, I tried to relax. Liking the fact I had already put together a compilation of my favourite tunes for my impending doom at the Dental Surgery. I even got a chance to relax enough to tap my toes to a few beats. I had somewhat even started to enjoy the drilling sensation and started to play silly games like running away from the mini-sucky-thing they use!
But before I had even got a chance to get to some of the better song on my playlist of pleasantness the chair was re-clining back up to an upright position. Taking my headphones off my ear holes I asked if that was it. My kind Dentist friend nodded and went on to say how well I did. "I wonder if I am going to get one of those overly-sized stickers for being such a good girl today?" I thought to myself as I listened to her saying something about flossing more. Woozy from the injections and sudden, unexpected right-angle position I found myself in I exclaimed that I felt like a cat, feeling my swollen face and cheeks, checking that I didn't in fact look like a balloon. Thanking my Dentist and nurse I exited the room and descended the stairs, without the body bag and still very much alive. As I turned into the main staircase there he was, Mr. Warehouse, waiting patiently for me with a concerned yet proud look on his face. I knew he had not been there for the full time I had been in but I appreciated the little white lie he told me, despite not being able to uphold it later on when questioned. I made an appointment for February next year and promised to see them soon. I don't know if I will go in six months for sure, but rest assured I am slightly less scared of the Dentist, although I am not fully cured. I will now be on my way to alleviate any more worry and have a giggle by Googling tooth fetishes and dental depravities. Good Night Mon Frere's!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 13 July 2015
Home Town Glory!
Morning Everybody,
So after last weeks debacle in regards to when would be the right time to move in with someone, Mr. Warehouse or anyone else of romantic intent that is, I decided to have the talk with Mr. Warehouse himself, slightly prompted by a deep meaningful conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a rather odd dream involving a perverted man and some snide comments from my father over dinner. All is well that ends well and I am glad to say that both Mr. Warehouse and myself are on the same page when it comes to our living arrangements and are more than happy with how things are right now! If it ain't broke they say, don't fix it.
Then again speaking of fixing stuff - Remember that long and drawn out saga with British Gas? Well nearly twelve weeks on and I have discovered that I am on the brink of a breakthrough. After much speculation on my £2,000.00 bill and pressure from unscrupulous and supposedly 'helpful' case handlers I have now been fitted (or my flat should I say, Haha) with a new electronic smart meter which I have now left running for a fortnight and tomorrow I shall take my first reading. Hopefully this one will be accepted and I will be able to see the light at the end of my energy-draining tunnel, and who knows, maybe even some compensation!
A right resulting week with what should have been a cracking weekend spent with back home in the blazing sunshine! But after finishing work on Friday and attending a doctors appointment only to find out that I actually have Seasonal Asthma (and yes apparently that is a 'thing') I was not in the best of moods. Tired and hungry I wanted my bed and cuddles the the Boyf. But the medical pa-lavas weren't over yet as Saturday afternoon I stepped outside, Mr. Warehouse in-toe, ready to face ... The Dentist! But as we neared the surgery I could feel my heart racing and pounding to get out of my chest. Squeezing Mr. Warehouse's hands tight I stared up at the tall brick building in front of me. It looked like a house. "It probably was" I thought, optimistic at the thought of a little Georgian family living there with the Nanny and little lap dog. "Yeah, a house of doom!" the other side of my mind said as my imagination played out thunderstorms and lightning cracking above the surgery, raining and with a deathly cold look about it! Suddenly I was snapped out of my daydream and was asked by Mr. Warehouse if I was going in or just viewing form the outside. Reluctantly I took my first steps inside a Dentist surgery since I was sixteen. Haha, a lot has changed since then. I have lost my virginity for one, shaken off the shackles of my overbearing mother and moved into my own little palace in the clouds all with a few broken hearts, tears and laughter along the way not to mention a while tonne of growing up to do. Yes, so much had changed. But the way I felt about the Dentist was not something that had altered. I still hated it. The smell. The noise. The odd tasting water. Nope. I was not a Dental Fetish kinda gal!
After speaking to the receptionist, who to be fair was not anything like out of the Addams Family, I was informed I was more than forty-minutes early for my appointment. With the look to Mr. Warehouse about venturing outside for a look along some shops I was given a stern look back, needless to say that I was staying put. In all fairness I think if I had left it would be doubtful that I would come back. After a relaxing half-hour or so in the waiting room of the homely surgery I was called upstairs. Climbing the wooden, creaking staircase I worried about the people whom had come here before and never made it out alive. I was being silly though. Upon entering the spacious room I was greeted by a lovely lady who sat me down and discussed all my fears before rooting around in my gob. Now I wont lie, it wasn't the worst thing in the world and not as bad as I expected granted but with one cracked, half-tooth on my left upper jaw and a filling to sort out I knew that I would have to come back for some more treatments. Haha! Treatments they call them - As if it some sort of fucking day spa! And in all fairness it bloody should have been at those prices. NHS Service in England is free at the point of use for anyone whom needs it says the government website. But they can fuck that up their fucking arses! A scrap, a poke and £51.20 later I have an appointment booked for the beginning of August and whilst my teeth may not be in bad shape, my purse certainly was! Bugger me this National Health Service malarkey is crap! I pay my taxes, pay my way and earn my money and I still have to pay for my dental bills and prescriptions! Bleeding joke if you ask me?!
On with the day I thought and after visiting my grandfather who yet again was in hospital due to yet more ill health (He usually resides in a very nice £900.00 a week care home back in Luton - Again something that my taxes are being put to good use on!? Hmmm). Rounding off the day though and entering into the evening Mr. Warehouse and I embarked on an evening with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family and a few close friends which I would class as my second Mommy and Daddy. A home from home you may say. But as the evening rolled on, BBQ blazing, shots being poured and cheese board brought out it was time for Mr. Warehouse and I to catch our last bus home of the night. Making sure we were at the bus stop in plenty of time we waited a further twenty-minutes for yet more of my taxes to arrive. When it did I stated where Mr. Warehouse and I were heading and the driver nodded and allowed us to board. But after a few minutes of our journey beginning we were asked to depart. Why? Because apparently it was the end of the line. As I stopped to enquire as to why we were told that the bus goes all the way to Luton train station, I soon found out that Mr. Warehouse and I were just palmed off and were promptly told to look at the other bus boards for the next one. And with that the doors shut and he drove away. With is being Edi in the local area, I knew we would be hard pushed to get a cab, and especially at gone midnight. But after calling round a few, with limited signal in the area we stood in the middle of my home-town a cab finally pulled up. Taking our chances and knowing how dodgy it was to get into a cab that wasn't pre-booked Mr. Warehouse and I took our chances and hopped in. After reeling from the double figured cab journey price totalling over fifteen of my English pounds we reluctantly paid and were on our way.
Arriving at Luton station I was greeted with yet more good news. As Mr. Warehouse asked why there were numerous coached parked outside the station I noticed from the corner of my eye streams and streams of people evacuating the train and walking along the platform and out of the station to the waiting coaches. Ahh yes. The rail-replacement! How could I have known. So perfect to end this evening on a cunting bus filed to the brim of clubbers and party-goers wearing next to nothing and the majority of them loud. Continuing the party I noticed one of the scantily clad blonde bimbo's was someone I used to car-share with regularly at my last job working in Credit Control. I wondered if I should say hello, but given my mood, and how our relationship was left I think it was best for all parties if I just turned my head and pretended that I never saw that scratchy whining little voice. As the bus pulled off I was duly informed by a very tired Mr. Warehouse that not only was he on the brink of following through on one of his many wet farts of the evening so far, but that he also had major travel sickness and didn't deal well with huge crowds and being sat on an over crowded and cramped coach full of them.
Finally we arrived home at nearly 2am, more than £100.00 light from the weekend and with very, very tired heads. We didn't wake the following morning until gone midday and even then we only really made it out to the shops for provisions and TV snacks. But suffice to say that sometimes I don't need to look far for inspirational writing. Safe to say that it wasn't how I imagined Mr. Warehouse's first experience of my home-town to be, but then again, it wouldn't be home without the mishaps.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last weeks debacle in regards to when would be the right time to move in with someone, Mr. Warehouse or anyone else of romantic intent that is, I decided to have the talk with Mr. Warehouse himself, slightly prompted by a deep meaningful conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a rather odd dream involving a perverted man and some snide comments from my father over dinner. All is well that ends well and I am glad to say that both Mr. Warehouse and myself are on the same page when it comes to our living arrangements and are more than happy with how things are right now! If it ain't broke they say, don't fix it.
Then again speaking of fixing stuff - Remember that long and drawn out saga with British Gas? Well nearly twelve weeks on and I have discovered that I am on the brink of a breakthrough. After much speculation on my £2,000.00 bill and pressure from unscrupulous and supposedly 'helpful' case handlers I have now been fitted (or my flat should I say, Haha) with a new electronic smart meter which I have now left running for a fortnight and tomorrow I shall take my first reading. Hopefully this one will be accepted and I will be able to see the light at the end of my energy-draining tunnel, and who knows, maybe even some compensation!
A right resulting week with what should have been a cracking weekend spent with back home in the blazing sunshine! But after finishing work on Friday and attending a doctors appointment only to find out that I actually have Seasonal Asthma (and yes apparently that is a 'thing') I was not in the best of moods. Tired and hungry I wanted my bed and cuddles the the Boyf. But the medical pa-lavas weren't over yet as Saturday afternoon I stepped outside, Mr. Warehouse in-toe, ready to face ... The Dentist! But as we neared the surgery I could feel my heart racing and pounding to get out of my chest. Squeezing Mr. Warehouse's hands tight I stared up at the tall brick building in front of me. It looked like a house. "It probably was" I thought, optimistic at the thought of a little Georgian family living there with the Nanny and little lap dog. "Yeah, a house of doom!" the other side of my mind said as my imagination played out thunderstorms and lightning cracking above the surgery, raining and with a deathly cold look about it! Suddenly I was snapped out of my daydream and was asked by Mr. Warehouse if I was going in or just viewing form the outside. Reluctantly I took my first steps inside a Dentist surgery since I was sixteen. Haha, a lot has changed since then. I have lost my virginity for one, shaken off the shackles of my overbearing mother and moved into my own little palace in the clouds all with a few broken hearts, tears and laughter along the way not to mention a while tonne of growing up to do. Yes, so much had changed. But the way I felt about the Dentist was not something that had altered. I still hated it. The smell. The noise. The odd tasting water. Nope. I was not a Dental Fetish kinda gal!
After speaking to the receptionist, who to be fair was not anything like out of the Addams Family, I was informed I was more than forty-minutes early for my appointment. With the look to Mr. Warehouse about venturing outside for a look along some shops I was given a stern look back, needless to say that I was staying put. In all fairness I think if I had left it would be doubtful that I would come back. After a relaxing half-hour or so in the waiting room of the homely surgery I was called upstairs. Climbing the wooden, creaking staircase I worried about the people whom had come here before and never made it out alive. I was being silly though. Upon entering the spacious room I was greeted by a lovely lady who sat me down and discussed all my fears before rooting around in my gob. Now I wont lie, it wasn't the worst thing in the world and not as bad as I expected granted but with one cracked, half-tooth on my left upper jaw and a filling to sort out I knew that I would have to come back for some more treatments. Haha! Treatments they call them - As if it some sort of fucking day spa! And in all fairness it bloody should have been at those prices. NHS Service in England is free at the point of use for anyone whom needs it says the government website. But they can fuck that up their fucking arses! A scrap, a poke and £51.20 later I have an appointment booked for the beginning of August and whilst my teeth may not be in bad shape, my purse certainly was! Bugger me this National Health Service malarkey is crap! I pay my taxes, pay my way and earn my money and I still have to pay for my dental bills and prescriptions! Bleeding joke if you ask me?!
On with the day I thought and after visiting my grandfather who yet again was in hospital due to yet more ill health (He usually resides in a very nice £900.00 a week care home back in Luton - Again something that my taxes are being put to good use on!? Hmmm). Rounding off the day though and entering into the evening Mr. Warehouse and I embarked on an evening with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's family and a few close friends which I would class as my second Mommy and Daddy. A home from home you may say. But as the evening rolled on, BBQ blazing, shots being poured and cheese board brought out it was time for Mr. Warehouse and I to catch our last bus home of the night. Making sure we were at the bus stop in plenty of time we waited a further twenty-minutes for yet more of my taxes to arrive. When it did I stated where Mr. Warehouse and I were heading and the driver nodded and allowed us to board. But after a few minutes of our journey beginning we were asked to depart. Why? Because apparently it was the end of the line. As I stopped to enquire as to why we were told that the bus goes all the way to Luton train station, I soon found out that Mr. Warehouse and I were just palmed off and were promptly told to look at the other bus boards for the next one. And with that the doors shut and he drove away. With is being Edi in the local area, I knew we would be hard pushed to get a cab, and especially at gone midnight. But after calling round a few, with limited signal in the area we stood in the middle of my home-town a cab finally pulled up. Taking our chances and knowing how dodgy it was to get into a cab that wasn't pre-booked Mr. Warehouse and I took our chances and hopped in. After reeling from the double figured cab journey price totalling over fifteen of my English pounds we reluctantly paid and were on our way.
Arriving at Luton station I was greeted with yet more good news. As Mr. Warehouse asked why there were numerous coached parked outside the station I noticed from the corner of my eye streams and streams of people evacuating the train and walking along the platform and out of the station to the waiting coaches. Ahh yes. The rail-replacement! How could I have known. So perfect to end this evening on a cunting bus filed to the brim of clubbers and party-goers wearing next to nothing and the majority of them loud. Continuing the party I noticed one of the scantily clad blonde bimbo's was someone I used to car-share with regularly at my last job working in Credit Control. I wondered if I should say hello, but given my mood, and how our relationship was left I think it was best for all parties if I just turned my head and pretended that I never saw that scratchy whining little voice. As the bus pulled off I was duly informed by a very tired Mr. Warehouse that not only was he on the brink of following through on one of his many wet farts of the evening so far, but that he also had major travel sickness and didn't deal well with huge crowds and being sat on an over crowded and cramped coach full of them.
Finally we arrived home at nearly 2am, more than £100.00 light from the weekend and with very, very tired heads. We didn't wake the following morning until gone midday and even then we only really made it out to the shops for provisions and TV snacks. But suffice to say that sometimes I don't need to look far for inspirational writing. Safe to say that it wasn't how I imagined Mr. Warehouse's first experience of my home-town to be, but then again, it wouldn't be home without the mishaps.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 15 June 2015
Souvenirs D'Adolescent
Bonjour,
Comment ca va? Ca va bien. Apologies for the French opening to this week's post but I am just sooo excited! So as if living the American dream in Las Vegas this March with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a matter of weeks ago we booked our annual Budget-Budget holiday to the once party island of Kavos in Greece. And as if that wasn't enough for one little globe-trotter I have also booked a cheeky holiday with Mr. Warehouse too. And that is where the French comes in as we are off too Lyon!
Now don't get me wrong I am stoked for lilo-ing in the swimming pool of mine, Miss Tweedle-Dee's, Miss Tweedle-Dumb's apartment and finding real life human faeces on the steps of our chalet not to mention the crazy nights out whereby a mixture of Scottish bars, Whitney Houston, meat sweats and copious amounts of foreign alcohol lead to what can only be known now as 'The Butter Floor' incident. But that frolicking is over one-hundred days away. And whilst my last boyfriend I went on holiday with decided to dump me several months later I feel that this one is different. Maybe its the fact that I have slaved over numerous holiday, hotel and flight websites looking for a getaway that is under two-hundred quid. It proved a struggle to find something that ticked all off mine and Mr. Warehouse's boxes - Under £200.00, in August, outside of term time, in the summer holidays and over the course of a bank holiday weekend. Yes it was an absolute struggle that had brought us to tears (literally) but finally we have found somewhere.
Booking a flight from London Luton Airport to Lyon Saint-Exupery Airport for a five-night, relatively budgeted break away was just what we both needed, Mr. Warehouse more-so I think than my passport wielding self. You see with limited money we couldn't afford to go somewhere like Barcelona, Rome or Paris as I had hoped, let alone New York or something more exotic. But my interest in France stemmed from a long childhood spending my summers there on holidays with my family have left me feeling in need of the French lifestyle over the last few years. I want something sophisticated and sexy from a holiday with a Lover. Somewhere we can throw ourselves into and immerse ourselves with good food, great scenery and a wonderful passion for each other. I know it never worked out in my last holiday with a partner but I am hoping to rectify that although it does scare me to pieces that the same thing might happen again. At least I wont be going with Mr. Workaholics overpowering mother whom acts far from the age she was.
France was somewhere my family and I used to holiday regularly, and by regularly I mean like every sodding year from the age of six or seven until my parents divorce nearly eight years ago now. At the time I was too preoccupied with boys, friends and other teenage things to really appreciate the fact that while I got to go on holiday to the French Eastern Coast and Riviera my friends got to go on seemingly lavish holidays to Florida, Greece and Spain. Secretly I was jealous but now I am thankful for the many years I spent travelling around Northern Europe with my family, exploring places such as France, Belgium, Holland and Germany as well as my native country, Britain. That aside, I am more than excited about returning to somewhere I nearly called Mon Mansion! (Yes my parents nearly bought a second home there with the intention to emigrate and have us sent to much better French schools). I have downloaded an learning languages app on my phone, ordered a tonne of Breton stripped T-shirts and am preparing myself for a whole lot of food consumption.
However, as I write to you now I am becoming increasingly sidetracked and unfocused as I am now surrounded with my adolescent diaries from years 2006 onwards and so have now rediscovered just how hilarious I once was. The thoughts of a littler me have me in stitches and as I now conclude today's post with an extract dated Tuesday 25th March 2008 I think to myself that maybe I shall post some more extracts one day. But for now I shall share with you a little part of sixteen-year-old A.Lou:
---
"Dear Diary,
Wow! You know if and when I find the right guy in High school, which I think I have its just amazing to find out that he just keeps surprising you with interesting facts you did not know about him. Number One - He rides a bike. One of the most sexiest, no, the most sexiest things a male can do is ride something macho. Wow! Number Two - He watches Skins which to some extent explains why we are compatible and are just meant to be together. Number Three - His hair looks so cute when its all fluffy and unbrushed like sex hair. Or Fuck hair. Yeah that sounds better, Fuck hair. Uhh Fuck Yeah Fuck hair. Anyhoo so intervention at school today was boring as hell but meh. I was interested slightly by a different reason to come into school.
Lots of Love, Night Night :) xx"
---
Established male-enthusiast since 1991 ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Comment ca va? Ca va bien. Apologies for the French opening to this week's post but I am just sooo excited! So as if living the American dream in Las Vegas this March with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, a matter of weeks ago we booked our annual Budget-Budget holiday to the once party island of Kavos in Greece. And as if that wasn't enough for one little globe-trotter I have also booked a cheeky holiday with Mr. Warehouse too. And that is where the French comes in as we are off too Lyon!
Now don't get me wrong I am stoked for lilo-ing in the swimming pool of mine, Miss Tweedle-Dee's, Miss Tweedle-Dumb's apartment and finding real life human faeces on the steps of our chalet not to mention the crazy nights out whereby a mixture of Scottish bars, Whitney Houston, meat sweats and copious amounts of foreign alcohol lead to what can only be known now as 'The Butter Floor' incident. But that frolicking is over one-hundred days away. And whilst my last boyfriend I went on holiday with decided to dump me several months later I feel that this one is different. Maybe its the fact that I have slaved over numerous holiday, hotel and flight websites looking for a getaway that is under two-hundred quid. It proved a struggle to find something that ticked all off mine and Mr. Warehouse's boxes - Under £200.00, in August, outside of term time, in the summer holidays and over the course of a bank holiday weekend. Yes it was an absolute struggle that had brought us to tears (literally) but finally we have found somewhere.
Booking a flight from London Luton Airport to Lyon Saint-Exupery Airport for a five-night, relatively budgeted break away was just what we both needed, Mr. Warehouse more-so I think than my passport wielding self. You see with limited money we couldn't afford to go somewhere like Barcelona, Rome or Paris as I had hoped, let alone New York or something more exotic. But my interest in France stemmed from a long childhood spending my summers there on holidays with my family have left me feeling in need of the French lifestyle over the last few years. I want something sophisticated and sexy from a holiday with a Lover. Somewhere we can throw ourselves into and immerse ourselves with good food, great scenery and a wonderful passion for each other. I know it never worked out in my last holiday with a partner but I am hoping to rectify that although it does scare me to pieces that the same thing might happen again. At least I wont be going with Mr. Workaholics overpowering mother whom acts far from the age she was.
France was somewhere my family and I used to holiday regularly, and by regularly I mean like every sodding year from the age of six or seven until my parents divorce nearly eight years ago now. At the time I was too preoccupied with boys, friends and other teenage things to really appreciate the fact that while I got to go on holiday to the French Eastern Coast and Riviera my friends got to go on seemingly lavish holidays to Florida, Greece and Spain. Secretly I was jealous but now I am thankful for the many years I spent travelling around Northern Europe with my family, exploring places such as France, Belgium, Holland and Germany as well as my native country, Britain. That aside, I am more than excited about returning to somewhere I nearly called Mon Mansion! (Yes my parents nearly bought a second home there with the intention to emigrate and have us sent to much better French schools). I have downloaded an learning languages app on my phone, ordered a tonne of Breton stripped T-shirts and am preparing myself for a whole lot of food consumption.
However, as I write to you now I am becoming increasingly sidetracked and unfocused as I am now surrounded with my adolescent diaries from years 2006 onwards and so have now rediscovered just how hilarious I once was. The thoughts of a littler me have me in stitches and as I now conclude today's post with an extract dated Tuesday 25th March 2008 I think to myself that maybe I shall post some more extracts one day. But for now I shall share with you a little part of sixteen-year-old A.Lou:
---
"Dear Diary,
Wow! You know if and when I find the right guy in High school, which I think I have its just amazing to find out that he just keeps surprising you with interesting facts you did not know about him. Number One - He rides a bike. One of the most sexiest, no, the most sexiest things a male can do is ride something macho. Wow! Number Two - He watches Skins which to some extent explains why we are compatible and are just meant to be together. Number Three - His hair looks so cute when its all fluffy and unbrushed like sex hair. Or Fuck hair. Yeah that sounds better, Fuck hair. Uhh Fuck Yeah Fuck hair. Anyhoo so intervention at school today was boring as hell but meh. I was interested slightly by a different reason to come into school.
Lots of Love, Night Night :) xx"
---
Established male-enthusiast since 1991 ...
'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
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