Cereal (name) Killer

Posted on Feb 26, 2020 by headinablender

I have a packet of Weetabix on my desk which is drawing a lot of interest from my work colleagues, mostly because it’s not every colour of the rainbow, caked in sugar and more sugar, and isn’t represented by a cartoon tiger, captain, or fucking leprechaun.

What cereal ACTUALLY looks like

I’ve had comments like, “What the hell is THAT?”, “It looks like hay!”, “Is that rabbit food?”, and “It’s so weird!”; you know, all the encouraging and open minded thinking I’ve come to expect.

But my favourite was about 20 minutes ago when someone walking past my desk stopped, looked at the box, and read the name of it out loud to himself in the form of a question.

Naturally.

Now, us Brits know it’s pronounced ‘WEE-tabix’, with the emphasis on the ‘WEE’

(He he).

But he pronounced it with the emphasis on the ‘TA’ part, and dropped the ‘Wee’ to a ‘W’, so he said:

“wTA-bix?”

I nearly spat my cereal all over my laptop.

What a wn-KER

You want beef?

Posted on Feb 19, 2017 by headinablender

It’s Sunday and I’m at work. It’s actually my scheduled day to work, so this isn’t a ranty post about having to work weekends and the world can lick my sweaty bumhole.

Sorry.

Instead, this is a post about the baffling and idiotic mindset of one of my friends and colleagues who is also here today.

So, for context, we have a large bistro on campus here at work which offers all sorts of foods, drinks and dubious stains and spills on the floor. Usually, when I take my lunch, I head down to the bistro and then text my colleague (let’s call her Numpty) and let her know what free soups they have on offer that day. She then replies and lets me know which she’d like and I take one back to her.

I’m simply awesome like that.

Well, being a Sunday, there was only one choice of soup instead of the usual three. Today’s soup was beef chilli. Yes, I know it’s not technically a soup, but it resembles a soup more than a barrel of squashed frogs.

Actually, squashed frog soup sounds pretty good.

Anyway, when I got down there I sent her a text. In fact, here is the ACTUAL conversation we had (my comments are in yellow).

There’s a lot of love between us

I deserved it.

But then again, so did she. I mean, all she had to do was type ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. In fact a simple ‘Y’ or ‘N’ would have sufficed.

This is why she’s a twat.

An ASSinine moment.

Posted on Feb 3, 2017 by headinablender

“There’s a bum fight outside”

I have literally just heard this across the office from one of my work mates.

I stood bolt upright.

“What did you just say???”

“There’s a bum fight happening outside”, he repeated.

Halfway through my Olympic record sprint to the window I realised he was talking about this:

Whereas I imagined this:

Damn you America…..damn you.

Bogey or Booger? You pick.

Posted on Jan 15, 2017 by headinablender

During a conversation with colleagues at work today, the subject moved to bogies [boogers].

This is indicative of the level of maturity we share.

It strikes me as odd that of all the things in the world to have a different word attributed to it, solidified nasal discharge would never have been on my list. Now, for a change, I’m not saying the UK word is better than the US word. In fact, they’re both a bit strange.

The UK word. ‘bogey‘ is also another word for one stroke over par in golf, or an enemy in an aerial dogfight. Having “a bogey on your tail” means an enemy is coming up behind you and you’re in trouble…or a toddler got a bit too close to the family dog.

The US word ‘booger‘ is another word for…well, nothing actually. Booger isn’t anything else, so by definition this word should be THE word for our beloved congealed snot balls.

I think that’s the one we should pick (groan).

Now, since living in Las Vegas I’ve noticed a distinct difference in the quality of my nose candy. In the UK they were slimier, wetter and more malleable. In Las Vegas they come out like a large piece of tree bark and can be used to saw logs in half. This is useful when you’re shy a bread knife.

Obviously this is due to the lack of humidity in the Nevadan air compared to Blighty, but I do miss rolling them up and flicking them at people.

Now I just use them as a shiv.

Metrican Standoff

Posted on Sep 15, 2016 by headinablender

We have a pot luck¹ at work today with an assortment of chips, dips and other fattening and delicious things.

One of my colleagues came over to me and said, “Hey, we have Enchiladas over here. In England, do you call then Centimetreladas?”.

I laughed like a fucking drain.

1 For my English readers (or ‘friends and family’ as I like to call them). A ‘Pot Luck’ is when Americans bring food to work either store bought or in a slow cooker (crock pot). In a nation that loves buffets, American workers have figured out a way to bring the buffet to the workplace.

-burp-

Food, friends and fist bumps.

Posted on Feb 13, 2016 by headinablender

At lunch yesterday, a few of us went to a local eatery to spend time and catch up.

During our conversation we were talking about a recent work funded night out at a local nightclub

*cough* Hakkasan nightclub at MGM Grand *cough*

Anyway, one of our party was telling us how much she had drunk that night, concluding her tale with my favourite sentence of 2016 so far:

“I was forced to double fist.”

She meant this…

But the action of half choking on my drink, gasping for air and laughing like a busted lawnmower, indicated to her that maybe…just maybe…I thought she meant something else.

I had to share this, it was two good to pass up.[1]

Stuff like this doesn’t just make my day, it makes my hole weak.[1]

[1] not typos.

A very ‘British’ cup of coffee

Posted on Feb 1, 2016 by headinablender

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…

…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.