Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Loco pro-MO-tion

Hotman!


Better get on board quick with the sponsoring internerds! This mo’s hangin’ on by a whisker. Only 2 more days until Movember officially mo-ssies off into the sunset!

Check all details here

Bless.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Excuse me, Waiter

Dear Waiter at my Favourite Café,

I’ve been going to this café on a regular basis for the last 5+ years. I take pleasure in being there. During my years at University I liked to just come in with a book and hang around sipping my 'sophistimicated' latte, or wonder down with friends to read the paper and gossip. These days I work far away from the café and I don’t get to go as often. However, I do try and get there most weekends to sip and eat and enjoy. I don't want to presume myself "Royalty" here... but, if the shoe fits?

You ruined the simple pleasure of enjoying my Cafe time on Sunday. And now I don’t like you.

On Sunday I went to meet a friend for a late breakfast. Sarah, is one of my oldest chums and we’ve been going to the café together before you thought anything ending in “chino” started with the word “baby”.

The first thing you did to light the fire of rage in my belly was to kick me off my table. Now, it’s ok that I was put in my place for jumping the que and I'm sorry the people waiting thought I was a rude bastard. it’s NOT ok for you to tell me that I need to wait outside and to NOT OFFER the next available table.

Then, waiting by myself, you had the audacity to condescendingly ask if it would just be me eating.
“No, there’s two of us. My friend is on her way,” I replied, getting a little pissy.
“Right… Do you know how long she’ll be?”
“Ahh, no.”
I wondered how the time it would take her to get here was relevant? I was there – surely that meant my friend joining me for a breakfast was probably on her way. And if I had been there by myself would you have insisted I go elsewhere? I'd like to see you try, Cuntox!

Sarah arrives and instead of offering coffee you ask, “so are you just having coffee, or are you eating?” This, I’m sure, could have been considered a fair question, if you had have made it sound like you we’re going to set our table for a breakfast. Unfortunately you said it in a tone that sounded as if we were pissing you off by wanting a table. I am starting to dislike you more.

We ask another waiter for Sarah’s coffee, because you forgot to take the order.

Sarah and I watch a group of 3 go into the café. YOU SIT THEM DOWN AT A TABLE. YOU GIVE THEM A MENU. THEY ARE HAPPY. I AM COLD. I am moving on from dislike to loathing.

You offer us a seat at the counter. “Oh, like the counter where you’re in the way to the kitchen? We’ll wait for a table thanks.” *fumes*

Finally, praise the lord, a table! You insist on awkwardly carrying our coffee’s inside. You can’t open the door, or clear the table. We do both. You walk off without giving us a menu. Now, Sarah and I know the menu back to front, but part of the pleasure of going to our Favourite Café is to stare longingly over the menu, so we need one.

The nice tattooed girl gives us the menu and 10 minutes later takes our order. We are feeling better because you seem to have put us in someone else’s section and we don’t have to speak to you again.

A tap on the shoulder. I think that it must be the slightly crazy woman who owns the café telling me that there’s no Haloumi on the menu. No, it’s you again. You whisper in my ear. “You’re being a plumber.” You give me a wink because your little brain is assuming you’ve done me a favour.

I check my 'rear-end', my undies are peeping over my jeans! Big fucking deal! I’m not like that tiny teeny bopper in the corner who’s pants are half way down her crack! Did ya say somethin’ to her Fuckface?! No?! NO?! Well, just so it’s clear let me wipe that smile off your greasy face…

YOU’VE OFFENDED ME! YOU’VE MADE ME FEEL VERY UNCOMFORTABLE IN MY FAVOURITE CAFÉ! I DON’T CARE IF PEOPLE CAN SEE THE TOP OF MY UNDIES! WHAT I CARE ABOUT IS THAT YOU LEAVE ME ALONE AND NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN! GO AWAY AND ANNOY SOME BIG, ANGRY MAN WHO LIKES TO PUNCH THINGS! ARGH!

Ahem.

I will be back to my Favourite Café, because we’ve been through a lot together and you make a killer breakfast and an oh-so-creamy coffee. But, my little Nimrod Waiter, never speak to me again, for I cannot control what may happen if you try.

Thanks,
Sugs

xx

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Give, that they may Mo*


Would ya look at this mo? Is it not the most thick and lustrous 8 day Mo you’ve ever seen? Don’t you want to just… I don’t know… THROW MONEY AT IT?! Yes?! And for a good cause? Yes? YES! Great, because now is the time to throw money at Hotman’s Mo! Let me tell you how…

As a socially conscious citizen/champion facial hair grower/all round do gooder, my handsome man (aka Hotman – he’s innocent!) is growing a Mo in aid of Movember. It’s all about growing a Mo for a month, to raise awareness and funds for prostate cancer. He can do the growing part, as he is masculine and rugged, but he needs your help in the funds department.

All donations can be made via the Movember website using Hotmans rego number: 2323. Apparently any donation over $30 gets you free entry into the Movember party. Ladies, I’m sure I do not need to tell you of the prickly pleasures that may be discovered on that particular evening!

Go on. It'll be a mo-ment you remember for the rest of your mo-ther fucking life!






*this is most definitely a poor form of advertising for Hotman and the whole Movember shtick. Whatever. It’s for a good cause… and it is already shaping out to be a healthy facial follicle fancier, so deal.