Three Strikes!

Okay, so based on everyone’s advise (thanks people! xxxxx) I finally decided to go over and introduce myself to the hot Aussie that just moved in next door (see here). Before this though, my flat mate (and lovely friend – I’m contractually obliged to add that second bit … hehe!) upon arriving back from work promptly cracked opened a bottle of wine (I swear that girl’s an alcoholic!). Of course, I couldn’t leave her to drink alone and no, it’s not what you think, we just had a couple of glasses with a nice creamy pasta, chicken and pancetta dish… (Yum!). After dinner, I summed up the courage to go say hello (I have to admit the wine helped too).

Despite the advise of some fantastic people on this blog, I’m afraid to say I did not go armed with food of any kind. I figured I wouldn’t eat anything a stranger brought to my house so why expect the same from him? In retrospect, that was mostly my laziness talking as I probably could have gone over with some wine or something. Anyway, I digress, just before I got to his, I undid a top button of my top. Not so that everything was all hanging out but enough to look casual and yet inviting …I hope! Figured it’s about time the ‘fun-bags’ earned their keep. (Yes, that’s what I’m calling them now). I knocked on the door four times (harder with each time) and after a few moments and some shuffling sounds, the door opened and there he stood - tall, tanned, blond and with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen (…or were they green, who cares? He’s hot! And the light wasn’t the brightest in that hallway…). He said hello and I introduced myself as a neighbour and said I’d just come round to say ‘hi and welcome’…(bla bla bla) and as I was about to go on about what a nice building this was (dull, I know but I was running out of things to talk about)….what should come out of my mouth but a garlicky burp. OH – DEAR – GOODNESS! First thing I thought was “I hope he doesn’t smell it” and then I thought, “Even if he doesn’t smell it; he heard it! The effect would be exactly the same!” (Strike 1!)

I have no one else to blame but myself here. I’d been feeling the need to burp before I got to his (you know the feeling, when it’s kinda just lingering but not ready to come out) but I was so preoccupied with thinking of what to say I’d ignored it. I was so embarrassed but he laughed (phew!) and I followed suit and panic laughed too. It was shrill and I must have sounded like a deranged hyena! (Strike 2!! C’mon girl!!!)… I didn’t even recognize my own voice. Even more embarrassed, I carried on and was rewarded with the details on him. Name -Jim, moved to London 3 years ago, lives with a friend from New Zealand – where he’s apparently from (Hey, I never said I was good at accent, those two accents sound similar enough to me. Thank goodness, I hadn’t said anything to him about my “Australian Assumption”), he works in a leisure centre as a ‘something-something-something manager’. Okay by this point I’d kinda glazed over. He has the most fantastic pair of lips and perfect teeth to match – I’d actually started to fantasize about those lips and what they could do…..Mmmm… “Oh, well it was nice meeting you” He said, quickly pulling me (kicking and screaming) back to reality “You too!” I said. “Don’t be a stranger and pop over and say hi or come for lunch or something!” (“Easy Tiger!” I thought, subtlety was the name of the game, not verbal-diarrhea). With that I shook his hand and did a weird mix of a bow and a courtesy… (Dear goodness! Someone get me the hell outta here! Strike 3!!!)

On reflection, I don’t think that was too bad… Or was it? (What do you think?) I’m still not 100% sure. Thankfully, I have a bit of a distraction from that this weekend. My cousin’s getting married and we’re whisking her off to Paris for her hen night! Whoop Whoop! That’s one of the joys of living in London – cheap holidays to Europe! I need a break (from myself!)… Gotta dash now… Speak later.

Hottie Alert!!! Help needed!

Okay, a new guy just moved in next door and from what I’ve seen so far, he has the body of a god! He’s Australian… (gotta love the accent) and I’ve been running to the door all evening to peep through the keyhole (desperate much?!) whenever I hear him outside. I think he’s done with his moving in and finally settled for the night but he’s managed to unsettle me! Wish I could put up a picture up to show you… (Sorry people but I can't. I'm preeeeeetty sure that would be borderline stalking...) Dear goodness, he’s delicious. Okay people, I’m gonna have to figure out a subtle way of introducing myself  and I’m usually rubbish at stuff like this! Help needed please!!!! Please send ideas my way! (Please leave a comment below...) What should I do?!

Pros/Cons List of having rubbish job and being single in tiny Welsh village (...and living with parents)

Pros :- Lots of spare cash and not a lot to spend the spare cash on. The biggest store we had was a “buy-wise” store and I would not be caught dead in that. Not because I am a snob – au contraire, I’m always up for a bargain and I actually bought two mini shorts from them once upon a time. The first one ripped while I was walking on the beach with Thom. Like properly ass-hanging-out ripped! Thom couldn’t speak for laughing. This should have been my first sign that he wasn’t good for me, twat! Though I’m pretty sure I’d have done exactly the same thing too. I had to walk awkwardly all the way home and change quickly into a pair of jeans. A few days later, I put on the second pair and they lasted all of 30 minutes and ripped as I got onto the bus. What fresh hell was this?! I made my excuses and got off the bus and since then, anytime I see a pair of summer shorts for £2, I steer very clear. Pardon my waffle here but I needed to explain why I refuse to shop in Buy-wise, the pride of my village (more like Buy-stupid!).

As a result of my lack of spending, I had a bit of money saved to potentially help me with my move to London and I called my friend to see what she thought of my plans and by the time I got off the phone an hour later, my mind was made up! I would be moving to London! The only thing I would miss here (asides my family of course) was watching Thom’s bum (oh we had some good times together – the bum and I) but all things considered, I was more than ready to move on. Maybe I will write to the bum… I’ll see if I can convince the bum to leave its owner and move to London with me. Yes, that would be nice! We’d paint the town red, the bum and I…

Oh, I almost forgot – the “Cons”:- actually, you must have figured this out already – rubbish job, girls named “Chelle” and evil mini shorts whose one purpose in life is to embarrass the hell outta ya!

There you go! My pre-London story. Till next time. Take care.

Why the "big move"? - Pt 2

Right! Back to Thom... When I got back, things were seemed okay between Thom and I for a few months till I got invited to a “girls night” out in town. I usually steer clear of all that as it almost always ends up in a huge fight or someone crying about her boyfriend/life/other random crap. This is not stereotyping all girls nights, far from actually; this is just the case with this group of girls in particular. I was working ridiculous hours at work and was generally feeling kinda bored with my social life so I figured, “Hey, why not?”. The night went off to a good start… until “she” walked in! “She” aka “Chelle” aka “The Village Bicycle” was some obnoxious little twat (pardon my French) whose sense of self esteem seemed to be heavily reliant on the number of men she slept with (I imagine 5 a day was required for reasonable amounts of self esteem each day. Any less and she could not function – okay, I am being cruel here but I really can’t stand her). In the past, I used to love hearing her tell sex stories, they were outrageous – especially the one where she forgot the anal beads in her asshole after sex (… How????!!!!Why????!!!). She really went down in my estimations though the year before she tried to pawn off her new baby on 5 different guys (one of which was a distant cousin of mine) claiming they were the father of her child (not all at once, mind! One after the other). Worst thing is, I think she only stopped at 5 because the 5^th guy agreed that it was his (silly sod). Till date, no one is really sure who the baby’s father is.  Anyway, I digress… so Chelle comes in and in typical fashion starts talking about the guys she’s been with and what they like to do in bed and in the midst of my shock and horror (and secret delight at all these outrageous stories), she described a certain penis which sounded vaguely familiar. I pressed for more info and by the time she mentioned the odd egg-shaped mole on said person’s pert bum – I knew she was talking about Thom. My heart skipped a beat. Could it really be? Stupid cow knew I was in a relationship with Thom too! Manipulative bitch!

I pretend-laughed, all the while fuming inside and then I made my excuses and went straight to Thom’s house to confront him. I don’t know if out of respect for me or because he didn’t care of he hurt my feelings (I choose to go with the former) but he didn’t deny it. Apparently they’d shagged quite a few times when I was away at Uni but now that I was back, he was all mine and would never do it again. He asked me to forgive him and I suppose I could have possibly-maybe-potentially thought about doing so till I realised since this revelation, the only emotion I had been feeling was a strange sense of exhilaration. I finally had an excuse to break-up with him. And it was then it hit me, this relationship had fizzled out ages ago (perhaps even after the first night, who knows). It was all I could do to stop from giggling out loud when I told him it was over Awkward! My face was so contorted I’m sure I looked like a banshee who needed to use the toilet desperately.

I was so relieved. Finally! And then for a brief instant, I remember that he had cheated on me while we were together and with none other than Chelle The Village Bicycle and for a brief instant I was furious again but this was quickly washed over by the happiness I had from being free!

A few months after that little incident with Thom, I had another epiphany – why was I working for a little above minimum wage in a job that was leading nowhere??? I am a bit impulsive but I really trust my instincts and I walked right into work the next day and quit. So you see with no job and no man, I figured, it’s time to go out and experience something new. I had a degree in Ethnomusicology and I was going to conquer the world one step at a time. I would move to New York and be the next Lady Gaga. Actually scratch that, you need talent for that… and also, London is closer than New York so maybe I’d start with London first. I’d just be like one of those successful women who had it all – fantastic careers, lovely apartment, cute pets (I’m thinking a French bulldog or a pug) and an even cuter boyfriend/lover. And just like that, I decided to move to London!

Till next time…

Why the "big move"? - Pt 1

Right! So where was I?  Oh yeah, I was describing myself… Actually, I think I’ve pretty much covered it. There are other aspects of my life I guess I could try to describe but I’m sure you’ll get to know more that as time goes on.

Next question then? Why the “big move” to London???

Okay, after University I decided to move back home with my parents. In fairness to me, I was living rent-free and I already had a part-time summer job here so making the transition to full time member of staff was pretty easy. All of these reasons pale in comparison to the one big reason – Thom! For those of you who don’t know Thom, he’s got the big brown eyes, 6”1 height, perma-tanned from being outdoors a lot and kinda good looking in a “knocked-around-the-rugby-field-a-bit-too-much” way (okay, that’s not the best description ever but you get the general idea).  And his bum! Oh that bum was one of the first things I noticed about him, actually scratch that – it was THE first thing I noticed about him.

We met through mutual friends at a party so after a brilliant night at the party (and a sore neck from not-so-subtly craning to catch an ample view of his bum each time he stood up or walked past), we decided to meet up again. Retrospectively, not one of my smartest ideas as it turns out I may have been wearing my “beer goggles” that night. What is in alcohol that makes people seem more attractive the more drunk you get? It’s probably the same thing that made me think I was just like (or even better than) Beyonce the night before. Anyway, we became an item though in retrospect this was probably more out of convenience than any real chemistry. The sex wasn’t too bad either. At least, I thought so at the time. He was the first guy I’d slept with so I didn’t have much else to compare with. I’d love to say there were fireworks and I passed out from the most intense and fantastic orgasm ever but that would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

Okay, gotta stop here. After years of “being good’ and resisting Eastenders, I’ve finally been sucked in again. I’m blaming this on the explosive gay story line (the two actors here are hot!), the weird marriage thingymajig about to happen, the train crash (oh wait, that’s Coronation street) and the “power slap” that I this very second just witnessed this lady give her husband. It just overwhelmed me and I need to know more. Will be back with more of an update soon!

Muchos gracias

Meet Lola

Fuck!!! When did I become this person? Unemployed, single, addicted to doughnuts from Morrisons and currently bearing a huge bruise on my bum from falling over while drunk last night. I’m blaming Beyonce on this one with that darned “Single ladies” song – I was doing my best to imitate the music video (which seemed like a great idea at the time) and before I knew it, I’d tripped on my heels, legs flailing in the air and landed with a thud which sounded like a mini-earthquake (apologies, if you felt the tremor). It was the probably the high-kick that finished me off. (Note to self, exercise more …or at least try to stretch more). Actually, thinking back now, I’m probably lucky that all I left with was a bruised bum. Anyway, I don’t know if it’s the sore bum or the doughnut-induced guilt but this is not quite how I pictured my “London dream”; in fact, so far my London dream has been exactly that – a dream. Its decided then – I must re-strategise and re-group the troups (or something of that nature)... well… I will... once I’ve gotten rid of this blasted hangover.

Okay, let me introduce myself I guess, my name is Lola. I was born to a Nigerian father and a Welsh mother so I grew up in Nigeria and UK and as a result, I’ve got one of those vague accents that people find tricky to decipher it’s origins. So far the guesses I’ve gotten from people range from American to Scottish, Irish, sometimes Welsh, “Generic African”, Australian and even Spanish! Anyway, I digress. Back to my point, I recently finished Uni – I say recent but I actually finished  in 2009. Oh my gosh, I just realised this is like 2 years ago! Where did all that time go?!!!! (FYI at this current moment, I smell breakfast cooking – my dear friend/confidante/part-time landlady/party animal is making the best cure for a hangover – a proper heart-attack-inducing Full English breakfast! Gotta lover her.) Anyway, back to describing myself, as a result of having white and black parents I am light brown skinned, tall for a girl (what does that even mean?), big curly hair (which I love!!!) and a huge African bum (which I am learning to love).

Must stop now. Breakfast is here! Whoopee!!! Will continue with the introductions later on… after a few episodes of Will and Grace, of course…. I love hangover telly. Catch ya in a bit.