Dear Starbucks

Within half an hour of waking up this morning, I realised that I was in for a shit day. It turns out I was not wrong. 

I had to travel for over an hour to get to my first appointment of the day. I decided to make a stop in town to treat myself to a Starbucks. An extra hot, skimmed Chai Tea Latte to be exact. 

Now, I accept that this is a slightly fussy order. I do not order it to sound in any way pretentious. I order it extra hot so that it lasts: I want to enjoy my Starbucks, not have to take it down in one gulp to ensure that it stays warm to the end. I order it skimmed because full fat milk makes me heave. I cannot stand the taste of it. And, I order Chai Tea because it is warm and spicy and on miserable days like today it reminds me of Christmas and keeps me all warmed up. 

The person who took my order repeated it back to me. She then tootled off to make my drink. Mid-drink making, she paused to have a conversation with someone I assume must be a regular customer, or a friend. Please understand, even when I am having a shit day, I do not wish to keep all human beings from social interaction. I simply want my drink. Ideally, the way I ordered it. 

I eventually got the drink. The drink-maker-person handed it over and said (clearly): "here's your extra hot, skimmed Chai Tea Latte". I have never been so thrilled to have a drink in my hand. Satisfied that I had the drink I ordered, I left Starbucks and ran to catch my next train. 

Imagine my disappointment when I took the first sip of my drink (a mere 2 minutes after purchasing it) and discovered that it was in fact a luke-warm, full-fat, something unidentifiable (but definitely not Chai Tea). And especially when I was on a train and could not go back to rectify the situation. It was so awful, I could not drink it. However, I still had to nurse it all the way to my destination, where I eventually found a bin to dispose of it in. 

Spare a thought here for the poor Starbucks drink that never achieved his aim in life, and ended up in a bin far, far away from home. It is very cruel of you to do that to him.

I am holding you personally responsible for the fact that my day turned out to be even more shit than anticipated, and for the fact that I have been in a foul mood for most of it. Had I had my extra hot, skimmed drink of loveliness, things would have been very different. I am rethinking my drinking allegiances. I may even start ordering drinks from Costa. 

Regards, 

Mrs B x

Possessive

This evening I was talking to Mr B about a man at work who has a band that plays in a pub near us. This man wants me to go and see his band playing in a couple of weeks. I told Mr B this. Mr B said the following: 

"Is he trying to hit on you? Do I need to get all possessive? Shall I pee on you to mark my territory?"

An Internal Discussion

I want pudding. Yummy yummy pudding.

No. NO. I will not have pudding. If I have pudding I will get fat. This is not good.

I will have some sweeties. They are not too bad.

Mmmmmmmm Cola Catterpillars. Yummy. These are tasty and I no longer feel as though my internal organs are going to digest themselves.

See. I don't need pudding. I don't even want pudding.

....

Oh crap. I'm getting a phone call tonight from a very depressed sister-in-law.

I should have got pudding.

I want pudding.

I need pudding.

I need a new life.

I have spent the last thirty minutes talking to myself. And now I am blogging about it.

I am not well. In the head, I mean.

Aaaaaaarrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh.

The Elderly and The Chip Pan

You may recall me telling you that during my prolonged break from blogging, my nana was in hospital having a shoulder operation. During this time, my grandad was left to fend for himself. This is not good. My grandad has never really had to look after himself. His jobs involve making hot drinks, washing the dishes and mowing the lawn. Anything outside of this is an impossible task. 

One evening when I called him, he advised me that he was making egg and chips for tea. Hurrah, I thought to myself, he is looking after himself. He said that the chips had been in the fryer for an hour and a half but had not yet cooked. I tried not to assume the worst. I asked him if he was sure the chip pan was plugged in. He was certain. The little red light was on. I then asked him if there was enough oil in to cover the chips. Here, we came to the root of the problem. Grandad replied: "No, there's no oil love. Our chip pan doesn't need oil." I refrained from asking him how on earth he expected the chips to cook without oil, all the while imagining the chip pan valiantly attempting to cook the chips, failing miserably, and dissolving into a pool of molten plastic and poisonous vapours. I gave him instructions on how to cook chips in the oven. He thought this was too much like hard work. He said he would go to the chip shop for some chips. I asked him if he would still have egg or would he have something else from the shop. He replied "I think I'll ask them for a chinese. I quite fancy a chinese". 

I gave up. 

Tips And Tricks

So, this week, I started my new job as an IT trainer. During my induction, I have learnt some very important IT tips and tricks. 

1. "It's a work in progress" means I have not got a clue what you've done to your computer.

2. "It's a known fault" means we know our computer system isn't working, but we're not entirely sure why. 

3. If your computer breaks, reboot it. Rebooting is a well known cure for everything. 

4. If that doesn't work, try stroking it and talking in soothing tones. 

5. If all else fails ... smash your computer with a hammer. 

Out Of Office

Thank you for your correspondence.

I am currently unavailable to comment on it. I am out of the office.

If your query is urgent, please contact someone else. I don't actually care.

Kind Regards,

Mrs B's Brain x

... Now It Is

Yesterday I blogged about the romance. Today I am here to tell you that it vanished.

Mr B read my post and came bounding down the stairs singing "we've got the love" Florence and the Machine style. He bounced into the kitchen and attempted to squeeze me. I said: "No. No. Why do we have to have the love? I am baking." Mr B said: "I just read your blog and it was sweet and loving". So, I began to sing (Florence and the Machine style) "I got my teapot. I got my teapot." Mr B retorted ... 

"You have the tone deaf".

And thus, the romance was shot down in flames. 

Romance Isn't Dead

So, who said romance was dead? Not me. Nope indeedy. You want to know why? I got my teapot.

I came home from work yesterday in a rather foul mood. You only need to look at my previous post to see why. Mr B gave to me a lovely hug and then said "why don't you have some breakfast?" I was like "fngfbwkrbglirbv?!?" and then "why would I want breakfast at 5.45pm? I don't want any breakfast." Then Mr B said: "you do." So, I thought to myself that maybe I was wrong and deep down inside I did want some breakfast after all. I opened the cupboard and sitting on top of the breakfast box was a Pandora bag with a lovely ribbon through it. I opened it up and inside was teeny tiny box.

It wasn't a ring, if that's what you're thinking. I'm already married. Mr B has categorically informed me that there will be no more rings. Oooh, we were talking about romance weren't we ... 

It was a new charm for my bracelet. A teapot. 

You may be thinking that a teapot is a strange choice of present for a new job. It has a story. We went away to Harrogate to celebrate Mr B's birthday. On strict instructions from everyone we told about it, we went to Betty's Tearoom. If you haven't been there, you must go immediately. We played at being posh and having afternoon tea. We loved it so much we went back for breakfast. It was immense. I said I was going to get a little teapot charm to remind me of my trip to Betty's (and the life I shall be leading when I win the lottery). When I went to the shop for my teapot, it was closed. So, I decided I should spend the money on another treat ... a third trip to Betty's. 

Mr B spotted this. He saved it up until he had an excuse. Then ... HE BOUGHT ME MY TEAPOT. 

Marriage just doesn't get more romantic than that.

Dear People In General ...

Or more specifically, the tw*ts who have annoyed me today. 

I would like to make a few comments about your behaviour. 

Firstly, I would like you to note that administrative staff are not second class citizens. Seriously, write it down. Then memorise it. We are actual human beings. We are allowed to do all the same things as you. In fact, we often do more than you and we are better at it.We just don't get paid as much.  If we walked out of the office one day and never came back, you would fall flat on your arses. Remember this. 

Secondly, an apology which ends with "but I don't think I did anything wrong", does not count as an apology. It is just having another go. The only thing this achieves is to irritate me more. Irritating me is not a good plan. It will not end well for you. 

Thirdly, your behaviour today has led to you being removed from my lottery list: the list of people I would give a small portion of my jackpot winnings to, just so they didn't have to go to work at the Nightmare Factory any more. I would like you to pause and contemplate exactly what this means for you. I expect you are now feeling very sorry that you annoyed me. 

Finally, if you p*ss me off like this again, I promise I will stamp up and down on your head until you cannot remember your own name any more, let alone annoy another administrator as long as you live. 

Comprende?! 

Furious Regards, 

Mrs B x