It doesn’t take much to ruin my day. Yesterday, in my quest to shop local, I thought I’d patronise a local independent takeaway and purchase a cappuccino. I can only ever order cappuccino in the mornings, ever mindful that in Italy I’d be scorned for ordering such a thing at any other time of the day. Cappuccino is a breakfast drink. I sneer at cappuccino orderers who disobey this rule. On a first date this would be a dealbreaker. What a turnoff! Cappuccino at 6pm! Imagine! (Other dealbreakers include crossing roads without holding my hand, brown shoes, double denim, pleather, the use of “lol” in texts and erroneous usage of your and you’re)
Restricting my cappuccino ordering to pre-noon is arguably the only thing in my life I’m actually arsed about. I adopt a ‘laissez faire’ attitude to everything else in my life, where chaos reigns supreme.
I’m very arsed about coffee (I like my coffee like I like my men, hot, strong and nowhere near my vagina) (Hey Rachael and Hannah – mummy’s mentioned vagina again!) Anyway I digress – I ordered the cappuccino without first checking out the coffee making credentials of the establishment– turns out it was a machine with a button marked with the various permutations of coffee; latte, black, cappuccino and so on and so forth. That’s not real coffee – that’s faux coffee; fauxfee if you will. Day = ruined. Yes, that’s all it takes. Perfection can be a cruel mistress, sometimes.
Turning to other events, in my continuing efforts to get someone to take me up the Kelpies, (oh that’s disgusting, stop thinking that) I had a bit of a date last night. Hard to read how it went. I suspect that’s another one I’ve scared off. I did arrive in a blur of hair, tits and teeth having come straight from an incident involving a car park and a locked gate. With me on the wrong side of it. In the dark. And gale force winds and lashing rain. In the tiniest car in the world. I could probably have just lifted the car over the gates to be fair, preferring instead to gesticulate wildly at the car behind me to no avail. All the gate plittering left me running late and without time to get petrol so drove to agreed rendezvous point for aforementioned date on fumes. This isn’t really unusual. I enjoy a game of petrol chicken. Sharpens the mind. Date went as well as can be expected, although I did glance down at one point and noticed a semi-circle of raw red onion lying proudly atop my partially exposed left breast. I hadn’t been eating onion so it’s all a bit of a mystery but I styled it out and ate it anyway. Waste not, want not.
Have a good weekend.
PS – Been watching the news. I know! Get me! All current affairs-y! These dudes who free-climbed El Capitan. I could free-climb El Capitan. I wouldn’t expect a global bloody fanfare. I’ve actually been to Yosemite with my friend Jane. It really is quite awe-inspiring. At one with nature and all that. We arrived at Yosemite and the tour guide attempted to get us to shlep for miles, but I declined, preferring instead to smoke a celebratory fag. You can take the girl out of Lincluden…