Spelling Bee(yatch!)

The other day, whilst [while] walking down a supermarket aisle, I passed a couple having a quiet, yet heated conversation.

‘This should be interesting’, I thought, as I passed them….slowly.

“It’s e-a-t-E-n”, said the guy.

“Uh uh, no”, his other half said dismissively, “it’s e-a-t-A-n”.

“No baby, i’m telling you, it’s e-a-t-E-n”, he repeated with a slight chuckle in his voice.

This didn’t go down well with her.

Not well at all.

It was at this point she did that thing so many of my exes have done to me in the past when out in public; she raised her voice slightly in an attempt to embarrass her man in front of an audience….or, in this case, the slow, shuffling Brit who was taking far too much interest some nearby canned goods.

“Mmm-hmm, sure baby; whatever you say, but you is wrong![sic], she retorted, clearly convinced she wasn’t.

She was.

Besides, the correct spelling is ‘c-r-E-t-i-n’.

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When nerds collide

Today in Forbidden Planet a couple pushed past me; bickering over which of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is the best.

He said “Leonardo obviously” and she insisted it was Raphael.

They were deadly serious.

Come on guys; they’re just fictional characters. They’re not real!

Pfft…nerds.

Besides, everyone knows R2-D2 is the best.

Teenage mutant ninja droid

I’m walking here!

Today on Oxford street in London I saw a man get beeped at by a black cab driver as he crossed a side road.  The traffic lights had changed before the guy had finished crossing and the cabbie wanted to ensure the man knew it.

Believe me, from his two fingered salute I’m pretty sure he knew it.

Without uttering a word, these two strangers had engaged in the following conversation…

Cabbie – “Come on mate, I haven’t got all day here. The lights have changed and I need to turn left into that street, but you’re causing me to delay that turn by a further 4 seconds.  So i’m going to beep my horn at you unnecessarily just so you and those around you are alerted to the fact that you’re taking too long!”

Man – “Fuck off”

I love London. I really, really do(n’t).

image

I Queue Test

This morning I woke up at 06:52am.  This is a problem when you need to be out of the house at 07:15am and I still needed to have a shower, shave, brush my teeth, style my hair, get dressed and make myself some lunch.  It’s also a little concerning as my alarm clocks (yes, clocks; plural) go off around 6am.  Oops.

If the house had been on fire and I was under attack from ninjas I still wouldn’t have moved as fast as I did when I realised the time.  I was quick.  Very quick.  At one point I passed a Coyote in a slingshot holding an anvil.

I made it out of the house at 07:18am.  Not bad.

Meep meep!

I then drove at breakneck speed to the station.  Well, it was at a speed that made me want to break the neck of the bell-end driving the car in front of me at 21 miles per hour.

I finally made it to the station with about 3 minutes to spare and I was faced with a decision; buy my weekly ticket now, or at London Victoria.  Hmm….

There was a dithering twat of a woman at the ticket office, laughing that she “simply can’t find my purse in here! Ha ha ha!”

Ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA!!!!  Hilarious.  No really, please continue.  Take your time.  I can’t get enough of your cripplingly funny shit. 

So I thought, fuck it; I’ll buy my ticket at Victoria. 

The train pulled in, I got on, sat down and revelled in watching the dithering twat almost miss the train.  She made it.  Shame.

The journey was the usual social scene; complete silence whilst staring at a small screens and desperately trying to ignore the annoying fucker talking on her phone.  In fact, it was this annoying fucker…..https://headinablender.wordpress.com/2013/05/28/blooble-fabwa-sibbladoo/

I really have to pick a different carriage….or just punch her in the face.

We finally pulled into London Victoria and I made my way to the ‘customers needing to pay additional fares’ desk.  It should be called ‘customers who tried to pull a fast one, realised there were automated gates and now have to reluctantly pay for a ticket which they will say was from the station just before Victoria’.

I shamefully joined the queue of people like we were waiting outside the headmaster’s office, feeling the judging eyes of all the other commuters as they passed by.  The people in front of me were taking forever to buy their tickets which I thought was odd.  It then dawned on me pretty fucking quickly that they weren’t simply buying excess fares.  No, they were haggling for the cheapest way of paying for the journey they’ve just done. 

No rush folks, I don’t have a job to get to.

The woman commuter at the desk had a ticket for off peak travel and hadn’t realised it wouldn’t let her through the barriers at 08:30am in the morning, in central London, on a Monday.  I could see her confusion.  This is the sort of woman who needs to ensure her Vagisil and Colgate are kept in separate rooms.

“I didn’t realise I couldn’t use this ticket”.  Yes you did, now fuck off.

She continued to argue this for a good two or three minutes, as if somehow it would change the circumstances.  At this rate we were going to hit off peak travel times.  This could’ve been incredibly frustrating if you were someone worried about being late for work.  Not me though, I had aaaaaaaaall the time in world.

The guy that followed her wasn’t any better.

“I’ve come from Gatwick, but I’m here to see my brother, so I need to get to Kensington, but my ticket from Gatwick was a staff ticket, so I need the cheapest ticket to see him and then I’ll be coming back, but that will be today, but tomorrow I’m with my brother at his flat, so do I need an oyster card?  I basically need to get back, but the ticket I’ve got isn’t valid on the times I need to be out of my brother’s place”.

I’m sorry, what?

The massive Nigerian train guard behind the glass looked right through this little man with a stare that sat somewhere between utter contempt and not giving a shit.  It was a beautifully crafted look and one I plan to master myself.  He clearly gets this kind of idiocy all the time.

Where’s that dithering twat from earlier?  I’m feeling a bit punchy.

People Waiting In Line

Animated conversation

Every morning when I get to the train station, I walk past the single ticket office to join the platform.

Every morning there’s a bloke standing by the ticket office chatting to the occupant behind the glass.

It’s clear they’re mates.

For context I need to explain that the guy in the ticket office is massive. I mean huge. He basically resembles a professional darts player, complete with a full on cockneyed ‘saaf Lahndan’ accent. His mate can simply be described as Ray Winstone, although he’s not.

Every morning when I walk by I catch a snippet of their conversation and it usually involves “some fucking muppet” or how the country’s going to shit. They basically put the world to rights like a couple of builders over a pint.

This morning as I approached, I noticed they were joined by a woman; a really ‘classy’ older bird with massive hoops in her ears and far too many rings. It was apparent that Ray had said something contentious as both the woman and the behemoth behind the glass were clearly not happy.

I wonder what it is today? Is it the local council? Is it the fact that today is Margaret Thatcher’s state funeral?

Nope.

As I got closer I heard something come out of the Winstone wannabe’s mouth that I didn’t expect.

He said, “yeah, they changed the animators”

What? I’m sorry, what did he just….what?

I slowed down for this one.

“Really?” said the stunned woman, as Shrek in his oversized uniform looked on with contempt, “Tom and Jerry?”

“It’s fucking disgusting. Is nuffink sacred?” said the fat controller.

“I know mate, I know”, said Ray.

I kept walking.

You f’coffee?

Following my recent entry about the correct way to make tea…

https://headinablender.wordpress.com/2013/03/28/fancy-a-cuppa/

…I’ve since been drawn into the great instant coffee debate.

In my Oscar winning portrayal of a person who gives a shit, I pretended to listen to the same tedious issue of whether you put the milk in first, or the water.

Frankly, I opt for the coffee, but hey….I don’t want to appear picky.

Preparing a mug of instant coffee is even easier than tea. The word ‘instant’ is a bit of a clue.

Repeat after me….

Spoon the coffee into a mug
Add the hot water and stir
Add milk and sugar/sweeteners to taste.

It makes my brain hurt to think that some people still can’t get this right. It surprises me that they’re able to dress themselves in the morning or brush their teeth properly. Most of them have toothpaste in their hair.

These Costa cockheads believe the perfect instant coffee is achieved by putting the cold milk in first before adding the hot water. If you attempt to educate these caffeinated cretins they resort to the dumbest argument in the history of the history of arguments.

“Boiling water burns the coffee which is why I put the milk in first”

Excuse me, what??

“I said boiling water burns the cof…”

Yes I heard you. I’ve just never had to process that amount of stupid in such a short space of time.

Instant coffee is designed to have boiling water poured on it. It’s not possible to burn something designed to have boiling water poured on it. Apparently their argument extends to the suggestion you wait until the water has cooled a bit, reducing the validity of the term ‘instant’.

It’s possible to burn REAL coffee made from ground up coffee beans, but not instant coffee.

This is usually met with a derisive sneer from those ‘in the know’.

Well, you unpercolated pricks, this is how instant coffee is created.

The coffee beans are roasted to temperatures in excess of 165 °C, which is a lot fucking hotter than your kettle, but I’ll continue….

The beans are then ground finely so they become soluble and are percolated in water at temperatures of 155 to 180°C. Again, really fucking hot.

“Oh no….what if they burn the coffee??”

Idiots.

Then it’s spray dried or freeze dried, ready to be rehydrated by the boiling hot water from your kettle….or clogged up with cold milk so it can’t dissolve properly.

But don’t take my word for it, look it up. In fact, here…I’ll save you the time.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Instant_coffee

And I’m sorry, but saying the flavour is better when the milk goes in first is bollocks. No-one likes those little islands of clumped up coffee swirling in their drink.

Oh, and your t-shirt is on inside out.

twatmug

One slided conversation

There’s a guy on the train having a full blown argument….with the door.

He’s getting very animated and at one point I thought he was going to drop his rapidly depleting six pack of beers.

He’s really going for it… talking with a proper ghetto swagger and saying “you get me?” a lot.

Other than sliding open and shut, these doors are pretty inanimate… and yet he’s still losing the argument.

Welcome to my commute ladies and gentlemen.