Innuendos, Double Entendres and Puns, Oh My! – Part 3

This morning at work, whilst making my morning coffee in our kitchen/break area, I was greeted by one of my colleagues.

“Good morning!” she said, as she strolled over to the collection of free fruit provided by the company.

“Good morning to you!”, I replied with the type of gusto I only reserve for Fridays, “And how are you this fine morning?”

“I’m great!”, she said innocently as she picked up a piece of fruit, “Just looking forward to my banana”.

Yeah she was.

 

Never say never.

Sick of commuting

On the drive into work this morning, I was stopped at a red light. This was unusual because, oh…wait…no it wasn’t.

I hate red lights.

There were three or four cars in front of me as we all sat there for around half an hour waiting for the fucking lights to go green. After a few minutes the driver in front of me opened their1 car door and appeared to vomit directly onto the tarmac.

Classy.

Then again, this is Las Vegas during the days between Christmas and New Year, so I suppose it’s not that unusual, right? There is a lot of drinking going on around this time.

What concerned me the most was that I was worried more about rolling my tyres [tires] through their previous evening’s poor fast food choices than the fact the driver might still be drunk.

Then it occurred to me that maybe the driver hadn’t been sick at all, but had simply dumped out their coffee cup.

That made more sense as I could see there was a little bit of steam rising from the dark puddle of questionable fluid slowly spreading out across the road.

Then the lights turned green and the traffic started to move.

As I approached the puddle of coffee I decided to drive around it, no longer concerned about the level of inebriation of the driver, but by the fact the ‘coffee’ appeared to have some lumps of – I want to say – carrot?

So, not fast food then.

Which is it? You be the judge….

1 – I didn’t see the driver, so let’s play the pronoun game!

Yule not believe it, but….

I just told a work colleague that I don’t really like Christmas. I mean, it’s not that I hate it, but i’m just a bit ‘meh’ about it.

From her reaction (and those around me) I may as well have stood on her desk, dropped my trousers and dipped my own Santa’s sack in her coffee.

Note to self: Don’t tell ANYONE here that you’re not a fan of Disney!

Fully roosted coffee

At work, we have a dedicated private Facebook page in which employees can sell stuff.

It’s pretty good if you want baby clothes, a kitchen gadget they’ve ‘only used a couple [of] times’, and other shit and detritus they don’t want anymore.

Well, I decided to have a peruse through today’s offerings over my morning coffee, and happened upon this item.

You know this is going to be fowl

Usually stuff like this wouldn’t make it onto my blog, but I couldn’t resist with a description like this:

Extra large Cock – FREE to a good home

My first instinct was to look up from my desk and check around me to make sure I wasn’t having my leg pulled.

No, she really wrote that…and it was intended to be sincere.1

What made it even better is that someone commented:

That is a turkey.

To which she replied:

It’s a rooster. A huge cock

Ah, I love the smell of innuendos in the morning.

(slurps coffee)

 

1 – I know this because a) it’s on a public work Facebook channel, and b) innuendos aren’t her thing….believe me!

What it’s REALLY like across the pond

I haven’t posted anything for a long time.  Seriously, it’s been over a month!

I’m sure you’re [not] wondering why this is; well….life has been pretty ‘samey’ recently and there hasn’t been anything that has amused or pissed me off in a while.

Over a month actually.

Anyway, the other day I was asked a question that stunned me into silence so much that it inspired me to write this post.  The question I was asked was:

“Is Christmas day in the UK the same as it is in the US?”

I paused for a moment, blinked a few times, and then gave a polite and sensible reply.

Oh, wait, no I didn’t.

I was sarcastic, condescending and there was a lot of finger pointing and laughing. I won’t lie….I was a bit of a cunt about it.

But honestly, who thinks Christmas is on a different day in the UK!?

Anyway, this got me thinking about all the questions and conversations I’ve been in that highlight the misconceptions Americans have about the UK and Europe in general. I have already touched on some of these before, but they just won’t go away….like syphilis or any of the Kardashians1.

So, without further ado:

We all drink Tea in the UK

Actually….no.

Granted, tea IS a big deal in the UK but there are a lot of Brits that don’t like it, opting instead for coffee. We like to call those people ‘traitors’ or ‘weird’. In addition, Americans also don’t realise that we generally drink tea with milk.

“Oh. My. GAWD!  With milk??”

Yes, with milk.

They go on and on (and fucking on) about how much we drink tea in Britain, but have absolutely NO idea about the tea we actually drink.  I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve been asked what flavour tea I drink.

“Fruit?”  No.

“Green?”  Still no.

“Camomile?”2  Nope.

“Earl Grey?”  Erm, some people do.

“So what do y’all drink then?”

Proper (black) tea…in a mug….with milk and sugar; very few people use the clichéd dainty little cup and saucer with the obligatory pinky finger sticking out.  Take note America, a proper mug – sometimes with a crack in it – is the ONLY way to drink tea.

Oooh, I do fancy a cuppa right now.

Geographically confusing delights

English Muffins

In America they have ‘English Muffins’ which, aside from McDonalds, I have never seen in the UK ever.

Yes, I know the flag isn’t the English flag. More on that below….

Yet I get told that we all eat them in England because, well, it has England in the name.  It’s either English muffins or ‘tea and crumpets’.  Sorry to tell you this America, but we don’t all eat crumpets all the time with our tea.  If anything, it would be tea and toast.

Mmmm, tea and hot buttered toast….with either Marmite or a nice bitter marmalade.

But tea and crumpets?  Rarely.

Additionally, whilst I’m on the subject of geographically named sweet treats, they also have something over here called:

German Chocolate Cake

I’ve been to Germany several times and never seen this cake.  Do you want to know why?  Hmm?  Do you?  Well, here is what I found on Wikipedia:

‘German chocolate cake, originally German’s chocolate cake, is a layered chocolate cake from the United States filled and topped with a coconut-pecan frosting. It owes its name to an English-American chocolate maker named Samuel German’

Interesting….considering I’ve been told, categorically, that it DOES come from Germany and I “don’t know what i’m talking about”, so it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy that:

a) I’m right, and

b) The people who told me that bullshit, read my blog.

Read it bitches…..read it all!

French Fries

I don’t even want to get started on this one.  Let’s just move on shall we?

French Toast

Nope.  Never seen that in France ANYWHERE.  Toast in France is usually thin and NOT packed to the gills with sugar, butter and death.

Italian Wedding Soup. 

Yep, apparently that’s a thing here too.  I’m half Italian and I’ve been to real Italian weddings and I have NEVER seen this soup. How can this be? 

Oh hello Wikipedia!

Wedding soup or Italian wedding soup is an Italian-American soup consisting of green vegetables and meat. It is popular in the United States, where it is a staple in many Italian restaurants.

Honestly, I’m not sure why this is a) Italian and b) for weddings.  It’s a lovely soup, but at the end of the day it’s still a soup….and soup can be messy.  Adding any type of sloshy food to people in their smartest attire, and one big white dress, is a recipe for disaster (thinly stretched pun intended).

Belgian Waffles

Now THIS one is actually accurate.  This style of waffle IS Belgian; I’ve been to Belgium a lot and they’re exactly the same as the American ones.  Only, this time, the Americans just call them ‘Waffles’; no ‘Belgian’ in there whatsoever.  The ONE time it’s actually correct to name a food after a country and they don’t do it!

I despair, I really do.

(takes a moment to compose himself)

OK…moving on….

Paris is romantic

No it’s not.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but it really isn’t. It’s grey, grimy, crap and in French.

It’s basically London with less friendly people…trust me!  The Hollywood held perception is that Paris is all cobble streets and baguettes, with accordion music faintly heard on the breeze, when in reality it’s a bustling city with the sound of constant droning traffic.

Oh, and it smells like toilet.  Not ‘Eau Du Toilette’…….an actual toilet.

Yes, it has the Eiffel Tower and yes the architecture is old and beautiful and it has museums and bridges and stuff, but that’s the case all over Europe.  Paris isn’t special in that respect.  Paris is, for want of a better word, a shithole.

Sorry France.3

London is all cobble streets and fog

I’ve touched on this before, but I’ve been asked this more than a handful of times.  Look at the description of Paris above and you’ve basically got London.  It’s pretty much the same, but not in French.  This is useful for understanding what’s being said about me by waiters and shop staff when I’m being overcharged for their lacklustre service.

The English all say things like ‘Tally ho’ , ‘Pip pip’ and ‘Guv’nor’

This is very true. Also, the French say “Sa·cré bleu!” a lot too, did you know that?

I’ve found that a lot of Americans say “Yee-Haw!!” and “Rootin’ Tootin’!!” all the time.

(rolls eyes until they hurt a bit)

British Food is terrible and bland

This is both wrong AND wrong.  In addition, it’s also wrong.

Firstly, it’s difficult to define ‘British food’ because Britain is actually made up of four countries/nations, each with their own foods and palettes.  I can’t speak for the other three countries, but I can speak for England.

Oh, did I mention that there is no understanding of the difference between England and Britain?  No?  Well, more of that in due course…

Anyway, back to the food.  There’s a belief that British food is bland and tasteless.  Ha ha ha ha WRONG!  Despite being a small(ish) island, Britain is located and influenced by all the European cuisine surrounding it, and it’s an international hub for commerce across the planet….so the food is AMAZING!  In fact there are more options and choices in the UK than I’ve found anywhere else, including the USA.

Aside from the traditional British foods like fish and chips, a full roast dinner, a proper ‘full English’ breakfast etc…we also have Indian, Italian, French, American (yes, we do burgers too), Greek, Turkish, Indian, Spanish, Japanese, African, Chinese, Thai, Indian, Polish, German, Blah, Blah, Blah……basically we have them ALL!

And yes, I meant to put ‘Indian’ in there more than once.  I LOVE Indian food and it has become the UK’s most favourite food!  Seriously, the national dish of the UK is Chicken tikka masala!

Mmmm, Chicken tikka masala….

And don’t even get me started on a good ol’ doner kebab!  It’s the most unhealthy and delicious food know to mankind.

Wait, no…that’s not right.  Let me try that again….

And don’t even get me started on a good ol’ doner kebab!  It’s the most unhealthy and delicious food know to drunk revellers outside the taxi rank after a night out on the piss.

No, it’s not a fucking ‘Gyro’

Now THAT’S British! (or Turkish actually)

America’s answer to post piss-up nosh?  McDonald’s.

Oh dear.

Europe is a country

Not only is this a belief (just like Africa), it’s surprising how many people I’ve spoken to who can’t point to Europe on a map, let alone the individual countries it consists of!

Besides, why bother learning about these countries when you can simply visit them at Epcot anyway?

(rolls eyes until they start bleeding slightly)

The UK, Great Britain and England are the same

I can understand why this is confusing, but even after I’ve explained it to one of my American friends, I can still see the lack of understanding behind their eyes.

Then again, it could be the huge doses of sugar and sodium in their diet.

(shrugs)

For clarity, here is a visual breakdown….

It’s like the United States, but with four states, not fifty.

Now, I’m sure this as clear as mud, but allow me to explain.

There are effectively four countries or ‘nations’ at play here.  England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales.  The uncoloured area below Northern Ireland is, unsurprisingly, Southern Ireland (or ‘The Republic of Ireland’) and actually forms part of Europe.

Yes, they have Euros as currency.

Confused yet?

Well, the English occasionally refer to themselves as British, but the Scottish, Irish and Welsh don’t…..even though they are.  In the same way that people from Hawaii refuse to call themselves American…..even though they are.

So, when I’m told I have a British accent I do smile to myself as there is no such thing really….unless I include all four accents together:

“I say good sir, the laddie is just a wee bairn, to be sure, so it is boyo isn’t it?”

Hmmm….

And, whilst I’m on the subject of the the UK….here is how the Union Flag came to be:

This is why the flag in the muffin picture earlier was technically incorrect

We celebrate Thanksgiving and 4th July

I can’t begin to tell you how many times i’ve been asked if we celebrate these. Oh, wait….I already have!

And, for the record, we also have Hallowe’en4

However, we do not have the following holidays:

  • Labor Day (should be ‘Labour’, but hey, who am I to judge?)
  • Presidents Day
  • Martin Luther King Day
  • Memorial Day
  • Veteran’s Day
  • Columbus Day

Take a moment and ask yourselves why this is.  If you can’t answer that question, feel free to ask me about it and see what kind of answer you get.

One of the UK holiday days I miss a lot is Boxing Day, which is the day after Christmas Day (still also the 25th December).  In the US a few have started calling it DAXMAS (Day After XMAS), but it’s not an official holiday day and serves no purpose other than…well….it’s the day after Christmas.

For us Brits (all four nations), Boxing Day is another Christmas Day and I love it!

“Why is it called Boxing Day?”

Why thank you for stepping in Wikipedia!

All the presents. All the food. All the booze.

 

1 – It’s a reoccurring joke on here, but seriously….when are these harpies going to fuck off and leave us in peace?

2 – I have NO idea why the USA have added an ‘H’ to this word, considering the way they usually hack letters OUT of words.

3 – Not really.  I hate Paris.

4 – It actually originated in the UK!  You’re welcome.

The Tale Of The Baffling Barista

My wife and I work the same shift at the same company, and that shift starts at 5am.  As a result, we’re usually very sleepy during the drive into work.  I have to say, it makes the other drivers nervous when they look over and see us both snoring, heads back, drooling.

This morning my wife felt the desire for Starbucks coffee and she asked[1] if we could stop at a drive through [or ‘drive-thru’ for all my American chums out there].

Of course.

We pulled up behind a car already in the queue [line] ordering their coffee.  Soon enough, after a brief 3 hours, the car finally moved and we rolled up to the microphone.

The speaker crackled into life.

“Welcome to Starbucks”

“Hi”, we both replied in sleepy unison.

“Yeah, we’re actually not open right now.”, came the lacklustre response in that inimitable style that made it sound like a question.

“Oh….OK. Never mind, thank you”

We looked at each other, shrugged and started to drive off.  Unfortunately we couldn’t go far as the car in front of us was at the next window waiting for their coffee.

We couldn’t get around them and, despite my wife’s insistence I beep my horn and ‘urge’ them to move the fuck out of the way, I decided to reverse back along the drive through lane as there were no cars behind us…..at 4:30am on a Monday.

I wonder why.

Anyway, as we reversed back past the microphone/speaker we could hear the woman babbling something over the intercom, so we stopped.

“Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?”

We looked at each other again, but this time in total confusion.  My wife leaned across me and said, “Wait….I thought you said you were closed.”

The speaker crackled back into life, “No, I said we we’re not open right now.”

Wait, isn’t that the same thing?

The speaker continued to crackle with attitude as the woman told us why they weren’t open yet; something about waiting for something or whatever….I don’t know.  Anyway, her tedious tale concluded with her asking if she could take our order.

Maybe it was the fact we were half asleep and devoid of caffeine, but she made no sense whatsoever.

So if you’re reading this and you’re not from the USA, take note…..’Not Open‘ and ‘Closed‘ mean different things over here….apparently.

Just like ‘Starbucks Barista‘ and ‘Testy Imbecile‘.

He he, ‘Testy’

[1] Demanded

You are what you eat (and you’re full of shit)

Before moving to America, my wife told me how many chemicals and additives there were in American food.  It seems the USA doesn’t have the strict regulations that Europe has regarding the shit that companies can inject into what we eat and drink.

I had no idea to what extent she was not kidding!

I first noticed how much sugar there is in stuff over here.  It’s in everything, but to the Nth degree!  Bread has been the biggest surprise; if you open a bag of bread and smell the loaf [insert toilet gag1 here], it smells like cake.  And cakes here are so sweet they’ve surpassed the maximum sweetness possible by the laws of nature and have shifted into another dimension entirely.

But it doesn’t stop with sugar (ever!).  The adverts (commercials) here use the addition of unnecessary chemicals and additives to promote and sell their foods.

Ice-cream is advertised with “No Growth Hormones!“, burgers promoted as having “No hormones, antibiotics or steroids!” and even dairy products brag about their milk having “50% less sugar“, or cheese being “100% cheese, not 51%“.

51%?  Bit random.

Now, I know this is a scare tactic to make you question their competitors’ products, but was I delusional to assume these products wouldn’t contain this shit as standard?

“Hey! Try our new coffee, made with 100% coffee and absolutely no wood screws or powdered glass!”.

Mmm, delicious.

It’s on a level my wife could never have prepared me for.  Even salt here is packed full of additional ingredients and chemicals, the names of which baffle and terrify me in equal measures.  I mean, it’s salt!  Surely the ingredient of salt should be salt?  I understand the need for an anti-caking agent, but outside that….it should be just salt, right?  Or am I overthinking this?

This unnecessary use of additional ingredients reminded me of something my wife showed me back in England; it was the list of ingredients for McDonald’s french fries in the UK and the USA.  Check this out…

fries-uk-vs-usa

Potatoes, oil and salt.  What more do you need?

And it doesn’t stop there.  Check out this seasonal favourite!

latte-uk-vs-usa

Nothing in red can be good!

So let’s take a moment to digest (or not) that the US version of this beverage has ‘Caramel Color’ in it…twice.  This is an ingredient that has been considered carcinogenic by the Agency for Research on Cancer!

So….Fuck. That.

Now, I’m aware these images have been pulled from the internet and could be utter bullshit….but they’re not.

Or are they? 2

So here are a couple of photos I took of products I’ve seen at work that defy the laws of sense and responsibility.

Recognise these, America?

bottles

I drink a lot of coffee….and it says ‘mate’…what’s not to love?

They’re sat next to the coffee machine looking sweet and innocent (and boy are they sweet!).

They look like cream and they taste a bit like cream….but they’re NOT cream.  They are so far from cream, they might as well be a car.

The fact they’re not stored in the fridge should have alarm bells ringing in your head.  In fact, the word ‘cream’ doesn’t appear in the terrifying list of ingredients at all!

ingredients

Do you notice the first (and therefore largest) ingredient is sugar? It appears BEFORE water!

This shit doesn’t even have milk in it, although there is a milk derivative.

A derivative?  What’s a derivative?

Well, Google defines it as:

Adjective – (typically of an artist or work of art) imitative of the work of another person, and usually disapproved of for that reason.

Or

Noun – something that is based on another source.

So yeah, it means ‘something that resembles milk, but isn’t‘.  I suppose that’s why it ends with ‘Not a source of lactose‘.  That’s great for those who are lactose intolerant I suppose.  But in all honesty, lactose is probably less harmful to those people than the cocktail of sugar, water and oils in this easy-pump jizz.

Yes, it looks like jizz.  You’ve all thought it.

And it doesn’t stop there.  I saw these packets on a shelf yesterday!

popeyehoney

Wait…Corn Syrup, Fructose and High Fructose Corn Syrup? What the actual fuck?

It seems Popeye’s took honey and added crap to make it sweeter (what??) and more ‘honey-coloured’!  I can’t get over the lunacy here!  Why not just leave it as honey?  After all, isn’t honey sweet enough?  I didn’t taste it because I didn’t want to be sucked into another dimension.

Also, did you notice the appearance of ‘Caramel Color’ again? Those aren’t pictures of hexagonal honeycomb cells on the packet; they’re human cells dripping with cancer.

soapbox

1 Pun/Play on words intended
2 They’re not

“I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say hello” – The Beatles

I got to work a bit early this morning, so took the opportunity to make myself some coffee and toast.

Whilst I was waiting by the toaster another employee came over to put some Tupperware’d nastiness in the microwave.  We smiled and performed the customary “Good Morning”, the optional “How’s your day going?” and (as I found out very quickly) the unnecessary “I’m utterly fucked”.

I must say, her face indicated that maybe, just maybe, I may have gone a tad too far; but she asked….so….

Anyway, she went back to zapping her box of whatever and I went back to waiting for my toast to ‘Shadunk‘ out of the toaster, when another employee walked by and shouted out to my new ‘friend’.

“Yoo Hoo gurl!” (not a typo; she said ‘gurl’, not ‘girl’)

“Oh, toodle-oo!”

Face palm.  That’s ‘goodbye’, you twat.

Ding!

Shadunk!

Oh, thank fuck.

toaster hit

Talking crap

I’ve just been for that first satisfying bowel movement of the day.  The one that usurps all others.

It was great.

But, unlike those I enjoy at weekends, this one was at the office.

A downside to curling out a fresh biscuit at work is that you’re not always the only baker in the bakery.  This visit was one of those times.

Now, a story like this isn’t unusual under normal circumstances, but this was far from normal.  As I entered the toilets [restroom/bathroom] I could hear that the occupant of the far cubicle [stall] was talking to someone.  He was on the phone.

I took the first cubicle because, well, no-one likes to poo within a foot of another person.  I don’t care if there’s a layer of wood between me and him; if I can see the shadow of his feet, I’m too close.

The toilets at work don’t have piped in music, nor are they located next to an airport runway so it was deathly quiet in there and therefore I could hear every word he was saying.

“I know”

“Yes, I heard you”

“Well, you hurt my feelings”

“Yes”

“Yes I know”

“OK”

There was a pause.

“I love you”

His call must have ended at that point because he then proceeded to wipe his arse.

Nice.

I finished my performance, flushed and then spent an unnecessarily long time washing and drying my hands.

Why?

Well, it could be because I believe in good personal hygiene, or it could be because I wanted to see if this guy had the bollocks to come out of his cubicle and reveal himself.

He didn’t.

I wouldn’t have either.

So, to respect his privacy and integrity, I left.

Then, out of respect for the guy, I didn’t hang around in the kitchen waiting to see who emerged.  I didn’t think it was right to make myself a coffee really slowly so I could check out if it was someone I knew (who may read my blog and somehow take this invasion of privacy personally).

After a few minutes he emerged.  Thankfully I didn’t know him.

It was just one of our security team; a massive bastard built like a brick shithouse.

This could be my last post.

picard phone loo

A very ‘British’ cup of coffee

I’m currently at work and I’ve just been to make myself a mug of coffee.

Here’s what happened.

I poured the coffee, added sweetener (I try and avoid sugar from a health point of view, despite the fact that sweetener is nothing but chemicals…but hey, less calories right?), and opened the fridge to get a carton of milk.

One of my colleagues was pouring herself a coffee, saw me add the milk to my coffee and said “How very British”.

I looked at my coffee confused for a moment, then at her, then back to my coffee. What’s very British?  Coffee?  Er, I think you’ll find that’s a very American thing.

Then she placed her cup under one of these bad boys…

CoffeeMate

…and starting pumping her beverage with Hazelnut…erm…’cream’?  Is it cream?

(Shrugs) Who knows?

I smiled at her as she pumped 6 doses of this stuff into her coffee and said “I used to use that until I saw the calorie content.  That’s why I went back to using milk”

She looked at me blankly for a moment.  I couldn’t tell if she was trying to comprehend what I’d said or if she was recuperating from having to count all the way up to 6.

She eventually replied with “And you guys put milk in your tea, right?” as she curled up her nose in disgust.

“Yes we do.  Actually it’s only you guys who don’t”, I said, a little defensively.

There was a pause.

“Yeah”.

She had clearly lost her way in this conversation and went back to stirring her mug of Hazelnut ‘cream’ with a bit of coffee in it.

As I walked away I turned back, smiled, and said, “Tea with milk is epic”.

She laughed.

I don’t know why.

I don’t think she knew either.

When puddings turn bad

I was in the break room at work making coffee when one of the senior managers burst through the door.  He was quite flustered and started talking loudly to one of the customer service team who thought they were going to be having a quiet coffee break.

They were wrong.

He was talking (or half shouting) about an on-going complaint we’d received from a customer who had become seriously ill whilst on holiday.

“Apparently it’s semolina poisoning!” he half shouted.

I stopped making drinks, turned and smiled, “Did you just say semolina poisoning?”

He turned to me with a face of genuine, serious concern.

“Yes”

“Really? Semolina poisoning?”

“Yes!”

Ok then.  I won’t argue.  Your education probably cost more than mine.

salmonella

Auschwitz to decaf

My wife and I were in Starbucks again this morning.  We’re always so tired in the morning and it’s just around the corner from work.  In fact, there are two Starbucks around the corner from work, practically across the road from each other, but i’ll come back to that later.

As I was stood there looking up at the menu of coffees (despite already knowing what I wanted before we went in), my wife gestured at something behind me and said “Oh my god, would you look at that.”

I turned around and saw this.

Starbucks MS
(actual photo taken)

“It’s just fucking coffee” she said, rolling her eyes.

I must admit, it was a bit much.  I understand that a business, especially one as large as Starbucks, will have a mission statement.  Yes it’s only coffee but I can appreciate the need to direct the focus of their global brand through ideals that will benefit both the customer and themselves, but come on!

They want to inspire and nurture the human spirit?  Do me a favour!  The only thing they want to nurture is my wallet; have you seen the prices of their drinks?

And with regards to ‘one neighbourhood at a time”, I have to agree; these fuckers are everywhere.

starbucks escher

In fact, according to Wikipedia:

“Starbucks is the largest coffeehouse company in the world, with 23,305 stores in 65 countries and territories, including 13,049 in the United States, 1,909 in China, 1,555 in Canada, 1,089 in Japan and 927 in the United Kingdom”

Yeah, I’m not surprised in the slightest.  I’m convinced a majority of these are in Tottenham Court Road.

After reading that entry from Wikipedia, I decided to Google some interesting facts about Starbucks and  I came across this interesting list of 15 things about Starbucks that will blow your mind.

It’s crazy to think how successful their global domination has been, and let’s be honest, it IS a global domination.  At least, that’s how their Mission Statement reads.

Don’t believe me?

Replace the words ‘inspire and nurture’ with ‘destroy’ and you have something that wouldn’t have been out of place in Nürnberg in 1934.

But that’s possibly a little unfair methinks.

Make no mistake, I am NOT drawing direct comparisons between the largest coffeehouse company in the world and one of the most evil men in history (That would be like comparing a blowjob to sticking your dick in a blender), but Starbucks have succeeded where Adolf hadn’t.

Maybe he should’ve sold coffee instead of drinking it.  All that caffeine made him a bit ‘shouty’.

Just be honest Starbucks, we all know what your mission statement is.

“To make as much money as we can and spread like cancer;
one person, one cup,
and one neighbourhood at a time”

Don’t sugar-coat it with this cheesy and cringe-worthy bollocks.

Oh, and get your punctuation in order; that was one thing Hitler got right.

Then again, he was a bit of a grammar Nazi.

nurnberg starbucks

UPDATE – 29th August 2014

My wife and I went into the same Starbucks this morning and the Mission Statement has been painted over.  It’s not there anymore!

I’m not big-headed in any way, but I can’t help hoping thinking it’s because hopefully maybe someone working there read this post!

Twink-le Twink-le little Star (bucks)

The effeminate young guy behind the till* in Starbucks this morning was more camp than a row of tents as he took our orders and passed them to the young, sour faced girl lurking behind the machinery.

While we were all stood there waiting for the miserable barista to emerge from behind the steam with our coffees, a middle aged, slightly overweight, greasy haired man came in wearing a trench coat and a creepy smile.

He ordered a coffee and started really flirting with the young guy behind the counter. It soon became evident they knew each other.  There was some giggling, some pouting and the young guy’s eyelids were being batted more than cricket ball.+

It was becoming uncomfortable to watch so I started looking around the café at anything to distract me.  My eyes eventually rested on the supermarket plastic bag that the greasy man was holding.  There was something written on it.

“Enjoy Every Mouthful”

Of course.

man eating sausage

* Cash register (for our American friends)
+ Baseball (for our American friends)

Confusion at the coffee house

There was confusion in Starbucks this morning.  The woman who was calling out the finished beverages at the collection area had the loosest grasp of English.

“Vebbi capparan cheeno fomackle?”

There was no response.  Instead we were all looking at each other baffled as this small woman held up a large paper cup full of mystery.

“Vebbi capparan cheeno fomackle?”

Still nothing from us.  It didn’t help that we were all in need of coffee, which may or may not have been ready.

The small woman looked at the name scrawled on the cup and carefully shouted, “Mackle?”

The man next to me said “Michael?”

“Yes, dis is faryoo”.

“Is that a cappuccino?” he enquired.

“Yes, vebbi capparan cheeno”.

And as Michael picked up his not-so-hot-anymore cup of coffee and left, I realised that ‘Vebbi capparan cheeno fomackle’ meant ‘Venti cappuccino for Michael’.

It didn’t stop there.

“Gradday hansel nub skinnle latty foserra?” (Grande hazelnut skinny latte for Sarah)

“Smor mericano wiz is press shotten exta hor mik fomerry?” (Small Americano with an espresso shot and extra hot milk for Mary)

“Lar feeter coff foffipp?” (Large filter coffee for Phillip)

“Tea fomanderlin”.

Actually, this was the easiest one to understand.  After all, it was tea.  It didn’t matter what words she murdered after saying ‘tea’, the owner (Madeline) knew it was for her.

There is always one who goes to an American coffee chain in England to have tea; the most English of hot drinks.

“Wozdee wul kuh mintoo?”

coffee cat

A caffeine kick

One of the guys at work just proudly showed me his new big coffee mug. 

It’s a monster.

phat mug

The word ‘Phat’ was actually used, even now in the year 2014.

“If we were to ‘cheers’ right now” he said, holding up his mug to clink it against mine, “I would knock you through that wall and into the office behind you”

wall smash

Don’t send a man to do a man’s job

This morning in the break room at work I saw one of the girls struggling to open a pack of muffins.

I laughed.

It wasn’t a malicious laugh to say ‘ha ha, you’re pathetic!’, but more of a little chuckle to say ‘aaw, can’t you open da wittle packety wackety?’

Nothing patronising, you understand.

“Struggling by any chance?” I said, smiling ear to ear as I made coffee.

She let out a sigh of frustration and, with bottom lip fully extended and puppy dog eyes set to maximum, thrust the packet at me (the man) to open it.

I put down my coffee spoon.

“Give it here”, I said in my most manly way and gripped the packaging with both hands, preparing to pull it open as effortlessly as a bag of crisps.

Smiling smugly, I pulled.

But wait. Oh no! It wasn’t opening!

I pulled harder. Nothing.

Oh shit.

I looked up and saw a grin forming at the corners of her mouth.

I pulled with all my strength, but the muffins still remained locked away inside their impenetrable fortress of transparency and deceit.

“OK, this isn’t good!” I said; half playful, half fearful for my masculinity.

No matter how hard I gripped the packaging and pulled at it, this thin plastic treachery to my manhood wasn’t going to open. I thought about tearing a small nick with my teeth to help rip it apart, but it wasn’t my packet of muffins and she may not have appreciated my slobber all over her breakfast.

It was unavoidable, this bastard was going to need scissors.

Admitting defeat, I shamefully handed the packet back to my chuckling colleague and went back to making coffee.

As I left the room I gingerly picked my penis and balls up off the floor and put them in my pocket to be reattached later.

Open the bag

Makes my blood boil

The office I work in is very modern and contemporary.  We have funky red sofas, LED TVs dotted around on the brilliantly white walls and more glass and steel than an episode of Buck Rogers.

One of the contemporary and modern fixtures we have is a tap in the kitchen that provides boiling hot water…on tap.  It’s perfect for making a brew quickly and so it should be; I believe it cost around £2000.

And yet we still have a kettle.

Eh?

I’ve lost count the amount of times I’ve walked into the kitchen, said hello to the idiots waiting for the kettle to boil, made my drink with the tap and then said goodbye to the idiots still waiting for the kettle to boil.

I ask them why they’re not using the tap and I get inane answers like:

“The tap doesn’t get it hot enough”

Really?  So the billowing steam coming off the water suggests it’s lukewarm does it?  I dare you to run your hand or genitals under it.  No?  Why not?

“It’s just what I’m used to; the water tastes better from the kettle anyway”

Bullshit. 

If anything, the tap tastes better because it’s filtered and it stays hot rather than being boiled over and over and over again.  And besides, who really gives a smoking shit about the flavour of the water, considering you’re infusing it with whatever shit you’re drinking.  And you’re probably making it wrong.

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

http://headinablender.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/you-fcoffee/

And what’s more frustrating is when they simply look at me and shrug.

What can I say to that?  There’s no reasoning with stupid.  I hate smashing into a wall of pillock.

But above all this; above all the reasons and blank faced idiocy there’s something I’ve observed that really grits my shit. 

Once they’ve made their hot drink, they put it in the microwave to get it hotter.

I’m sorry, hotter??

How fucking hot do you need it to be?  Surely when it’s bubbling away like a witch’s cauldron it’s not wise to introduce it to your soft fleshy insides?  No, of course it isn’t, which is why they proceed to sip it very gently, blowing on it to cool it down.

What?  Sorry, what?  I just don’t get it.

Yesterday I challenged one of them as he took his drink, now at the temperature of the sun, out of the microwave.  I asked him why he was subjecting his already piping hot beverage to microwaves and he simply replied with, “it wasn’t hot enough”.

He then started to sip it tentatively and carefully.

“Don’t you dare blow on it”, I subtly warned.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“Why make it hotter just to blow on it to cool it down?”

He looked at me blankly, as if this somehow hadn’t occurred to him.

“What’s the point in zapping it in the microwave if you’re making it too hot to drink?”

“Erm…” he intelligently replied.

“Don’t you dare blow on it, or slurp it” I continued, “I want to see full on sips with full on lip contact”

He did exactly that, wincing the whole time as he fought to hold the microwave-hot ceramic handle of the mug.

Even the Americans don’t do this.  That’s how bad it’s got.

Right, I’m off now to start a fire in my garden so I can cook my dinner using random sticks as skewers, rather than utilise my fully loaded kitchen with gas cooker, oven, pans and utensils.

Because, you know, it’s just what I’m used to.

monkey shit pc

A missed opportunity

Have you ever overheard someone being asked a question and wished you’d been able to answer it instead?

In The Sail Loft cafe at St. Michael’s Mount, Cornwall, I heard….

Customer – “Excuse me, do you do takeaway coffee?”
Girl in cafe – “Im sorry, no we don’t; we’re not set up for it.  There is a cafe on the other side that might”
Customer – “Ok, thank you”

What I would love to have heard was…

Customer – “Excuse me, do you do takeaway coffee?”
Girl in cafe – “You can try but we’ll probably rugby tackle you to the ground”
Customer – “I’m sorry, what??”

Now wouldn’t that have been more amusing? I could’ve written a blog entry about it and everything.

You f’coffee?

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

http://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