Category Archives: I’m back

England Part 3

I am a horrible person, maybe more so than Trump because I haven’t posted in forever and I am truly sorry about that. So again, I will be posting more. My life has been crazy with visiting my sick grandparents in Florida to apartment shopping still (will discuss in future posts). Here is part 3 of my England trip:

After our day out, we went back to my Brit’s brother’s adorable cottage and watched the final matches of Wimbledon while drinking and cooking dinner. My Brit’s sister in-law is seriously an amazing cook, she makes things look simple and Instagram ready which is more than I can say about my cooking skills.

We had fish (because they know I don’t eat meat) and veggies, which the fish was nice and crispy and veggies tasted delicious with their spicy jam (don’t you notice how spice makes everything nice).  The children were less fond of the dinner and hardly ate, throwing a tantrum. My Brit’s parents are very judgement of how my Brit’s brother and sister in-law raise their children, with knowing looks and little comments.

Yes, the children are a little spoiled and rule the house. His parents raised his brother and him to be gentlemen and my Brit tells me how manner-strict they were and you can see a slight change in both men when around their parents. They sit up higher, please and thank you comes out every minute, and you can smell the respect from their bodies. I’m not hating, I admire it.  I hope if I ever have kids, my brats are old school British darlings that you picture could star in Oliver Twist.

Anyway, to finish my point, my Brit’s nephew did not want to finish his dinner or even eat 25% of his plate, his mother tried the punishment of “if you don’t finish your dinner you don’t get dessert” but the kid is smarter than that and soon he was having the first slice of homemade cake and large piece of Brie cheese. My Brit’s parents were not having that and making snide comments and when the kid just left the table without excusing himself or asking permission to do so, I think I saw steam come out of their ears.

After dinner, my Brit’s niece was showing me cartwheels and other tricks while the nephew was playing soccer. Soon they wanted everyone to participate and when the sister in-law shocked us all with a near perfect cartwheel, sadly I was up after her. My cartwheel was in-fact not a cartwheel but more like I was drunk (I did have some wine but not that much) and attempting a sex position. I was embarrassed but glad the American could make everyone laugh.

Next I was playing soccer and even kicked two goals (my Brit was the goalie and he was pissed), he’s a leo so everything is about him and he thinks he is like some god. Soon it became a game of us playing and ignoring the poor children, and dare I say I got turned on (I did’t have sex for like a week so anything would have made me wet at that point). When the children whined, we included them in the game and soon the fight between them started. It was late for them, and they were exhausted but didn’t want to sleep because the next day we were leaving and they would miss us. Insults were thrown, “loser” and “you can never play with my balls again”, meaning his soccer balls, you dirty pervs. It was entertaining, especially in their cute accents, and my Brit and I had to hide our laughs.

We said goodnight to everyone, and put the crying children to bed. It was sad to hear sniffles and moans of us leaving, but what’s sick is I enjoyed it because that meant I did well. We promised we would come back and I would keep in touch with the children, which I have.

As much as it was sad to see kids begging you not to leave, I couldn’t wait to go home to my dogs, my bed, and my writing. I was officially done with family time and ready to have sex with my man. Sorry, but I love sex and not ashamed to admit it. Anyway, that’s that. It was fun and eye opening because I think I just meant my future family. But, I had to go back to exercising and not eating everything that I wanted because my clothes were super tight on me.

At the airport, I made sure to indulge in every fatty thing I could and since we came home on a Saturday, that weekend I stayed indoors, on the couch, catching up on my shows, and eating more fat till Sunday at midnight when I turned into a pumpkin.

You know the drill, any questions or comments: diaryofalovefool@gmail.com

 

England Part 1

Dear Loves,

I am a piece of shit… and not the emoji smiling shit but a real stinker. I broke my promise to you. I said I was going to write more and I failed, instead I have been a lump just working, writing, and eating. But I have been working out and it’s so true with what Elle Woods said, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands, they just don’t.” I am a lot happier however, I do want to kill my boyfriend in regards to buying an apartment. I feel like I will be the next story of “Making A Murderer” because he’s driving me crazy, but that’s for another post.

This post is about my time in England with my Brit and welcoming him home and meeting his family.  Let’s start from the beginning… We took a short flight from Cork to London, which is what I love about Europe, you can travel pretty much anywhere by a short plane ride or train. Imagine, plane hopping from one beautiful country to the next.

It was late at night and we took a taxi from Heathrow to my Brit’s brother’s house outside of London. Because I was on vacation I decided to eat the famous sandwich from Marks and Spencer that my boyfriend has been bragging about. And, my sandwich was delicious, brie cheese with grape… a fatty’s delight.

So I was shoving the sandwich in my mouth to calm my nerves. I meant my Brit’s brother when he visited NYC (which by the way, he’s hot, sorry babe) but now I was meeting the brother’s wife and kids and then eventually my Brit’s parents.  Plus, we were staying at the brother’s house. Now, I can’t very uncomfortable staying at other people’s homes, to use the bathroom, get a drink of water, sleeping, etc. It’s odd but that’s me. I mean, does anybody get comfortable shitting in a stranger’s home?

The brother lives outside of London, kind of comparable to Westchester to Manhattan. He lives in an exclusive cottage community, about twelve cottages and everyone who lives there are family friendly and all are close. Like Pleasantville. There is even a farm in the back with horses and goats.

We arrive late at night and the brother and sister in-law are waiting up for us. I honestly thought the sister in-law was going to be a biotch but she seriously was the nicest person. Made me feel welcomed. And, the brother I already knew was kind too.

We ended up sharing a room, which everyone was cool about. Now, my mother would not be cool about this unless I had a ring on my finger. The cottage is smaller than I would imagine (they paid about a cool one million for it (US dollars I’m talking here, I’m not that British smart)). Anyway, our guest room was tiny but tightly fitted a queen bed and a large drawer, no TV and barely room for my large two luggage.

I was still nervous that I made my Brit come to the bathroom with me to brush my teeth and wash my face. Thankfully, all the excitement tired me out and as soon as my head hit the pillow I passed out.

My Brit warned me about his niece and nephew, about how they have strong personalities, how they might pick on me for my accent and eating habits, and also how they will just storm in our room, jump on our bed, and wake us up… which is the real torture.

The bedroom doors did not have locks so while getting dressed or sleeping anyone could just walk in. So, they were kind enough not to wake us up while jumping on our chests the first morning. We walked down for breakfast in my family friendly pjs and met the rugrats.

They hugged me and wrote cute letters how they wished they were able to stay up to have welcomed us the night before. After breakfast with a million questions and yummy toast, the little boy asked me the most lovable thing any child has asked me, “Are you part of the family?” My boyfriend’s face turned red and I knew I won the family over in just a few short minutes. Bitch, where is my engagement ring?

Btw, news worthy info! In some lucky homes in England, they have this amazing contraption called an Aga http://www.agamarvel.com/aga/

You can get one delivered anywhere and I want one. It will cost you about $14,000 but I think it’s worth it. It stays hot forever, it heats the room up perfectly, and the food comes out better, especially toast.

Anyway, that day it turns out to be the American holiday 4th of July, and my Brit’s brother tried to get me an American flag but surprisingly they were sold out so instead he got me a balloon. How kind! There was also a party in the cottage community, a child’s birthday party and we were kindly welcomed. Everyone wished me a Happy Independence Day and wanted to hear all about the American. Instead of feeling like a poor zoo animal, I felt special.  I made the kids’ friends and had a blast with cake and Pimm’s. It was the perfect warm Saturday afternoon. http://www.anyoneforpimms.com/

That night, we had an adult dinner and cocktails. The kids were being watched by the 2nd part of the party, a camp out in the farm. We only had 30 minutes to get dressed. That’s like 5 minutes my time. I rushed, reapplied my makeup and threw anything on that didn’t make me look like a hog. I wore a mini sequin skirt, tank that showed the girls off, and a cobalt blue blazer (one of my favorite pieces of clothes I own). The sister in-law looked more formal with a dark blue dress that covered everything and low heels. I looked like the hoe American. But damn, it’s Saturday night and we were going out on the town. We had drinks at one hot spot and discussed children, since one couple has children and I’m sure they didn’t want to hear about the freedom of not having children. Then, we went to dinner at a very fancy restaurant, I mean white gloves and rehearsed serving skills. We had bottles of wine and ate small plates of delicious over-priced food.

And after a night of drinking, we couldn’t even get freaky because the house was small and we were being respectful. And, we were being so respectful that we didn’t have sex for the entire week in England. It was torture because sometimes a girl needs a pounding.

So, my posts about England will be sexless. Sorry, but it’s more painful for me than for you.

If you have any questions or comments please email me at diaryofalovefool@gmail.com

 

I’m Back!!!!!!

Hello darlings,

I am so sorry for disappearing like a guy after a date. I know it’s such a pathetic excuse but I have been busy with being a peasant at work and writing a book (which by the way, is not easy and I think I discovered I have ADD).  I’m also still dating my boyfriend, everyone is still shocked that I’m still in a relationship.  This has been my longest relationship ever so I guess that means I’m a real adult and “mature”.  And to be honest, I didn’t think anyone was reading this blog.  I kinda felt like a weirdo writing about my life and no one caring. But I have been getting emails asking me why I went all Gone Girl and that really touched my heart.

Here are some answers to your questions:

1) I am alive! I have been working, traveling, eating, and have much more stories to tell.

2) I am with my Brit and we are looking to move in together! Excited and nervous because I am a gross human being when I’m alone with my dogs. Plus, the bathroom situation! We need to discuss more.

3) Not everything is sunshine and a Disney movie between my boyfriend and I. Of course, no relationship is perfect. We will discuss more.

4) I am writing a book (trying) and would love to write a column for a magazine but apparently everyone wants to be a writer and it’s not the easiest dream in the world to make come true.

So I will be trying to write on here every day and not disappoint or scare you anymore. You might get sick of me ;)

And remember, write to me about any questions you have regarding your life. I will answer them honestly and not like your friends who tell you one thing then behind your back say something else. diaryofalovefool@gmail.com