Wednesday, December 29, 2010

DIY Starbucks

Yesterday I parted with the alphas hard earned dollars for the last time in Starbucks. I love coffee. I positively love it; I’d have a bath in it if I wasn’t such a lazy bugger. So yesterday the offspring and I are out in the aftermath of the blizzard trekking to CVS to get formula (we accidentally went a mile out of the way to check out a vintage shop) and as a result the offspring was cold and red of visage. I decided to stop into someplace to get a coffee to warm us both up. I was passing Starbucks and began to dither. I usually hate starbucks but there was nowhere else on the journey home. What to do? Despite the fogged up windows and knowledge that the place really is just a total sh*thole, we wandered in as I was ok for further needless trekking through the snow (the vintage shop visit was a total accident).

I took a notion to treat myself and instead of the usual scorched Americano I chose with a stupid level of anticipation a white chocolate mocha. I’m thinking white chocolate and coffee…..mmmmmm, my ass badly needs these calories. How wrong I was. To start I forgot to ask them not to spray that white confection of chemicals from a can on top of it so I had a massive blob of “whipped cream” which was the first thing I tasted. I don’t actually mind this substance mostly as it tastes quite sweet and I would almost sell my cats for sugar at times. No, no. The thing about the cream was that it lulled me into thinking the contents of the do gooder green “I’m made from the arse of sustainably bred warthogs” coffee cup was not life threateningly hot. I was incorrect. I believe the contents of the cup took a good 4 layers of hard grown skin off my tongue and the entire roof of my mouth was reefed away by the scalding hot coffee. I didn’t even ask for it hot! Yes, you can get it extra hot. If I’d wanted such an experience I needn’t have paid 3.80 of the alphas hard earned dosh for it, I merely had to go home, fire up the gas cooker and attach my tongue to the flame. Simples.

Next, came the insult that was the “flavour”. For an extra 50 cents I could have gone up the road to another establishment and procured myself a mocha with ACTUAL CHOCOLATE in it, but silly and lazy Len must have subconsciously decided that a trapful of chemical tasting chocolate syrup would be far more pleasing to the tastebuds. What remained of them after the earlier scorching that is. The aftertaste of the “chocolate” was that of what I imagine anti freeze to taste like.

As I was walking home a thought struck me. I could do a DIY starbucks. All I needed to do was nip to the nearest zoological gardens, borrow a warthog, take it home and wrap it around my head. Next I fire up the gas cooker, singe the shit out of my tongue and pour the contents of my household cleaning products container down me craw and hey presto, I have a starbucks for free!! I would encourage you to try it but I think it might fall short of the actual starbucks experience and I wouldn’t want to deny anyone that little gem.


Thursday, May 13, 2010

Childbirth Class

The alpha and I spent a ‘blissful” Saturday last week in day long attendance of a childbirth class. I went along with few or no expectations just hoping to survive the 9 hours of class without waking up at some point with my face covered in drool. I think this was actually the primary aim of the alpha on the day. More about that later.

The first thing that hit me as we entered the class, apart from the fact that we appeared to be having it in a nuclear fallout shelter, were the vomit inducing positive labour affirmations all over the walls. I’m not sure how reciting to myself “My body is opening like a flower” will help me through what is likely to be pain on an unparalleled scale as I push my son from my very tiny loins. A flower would be the last thing I would liken the emergence of a fully formed human from my innards to. I would be thinking it would be more along the lines of using a pillow as a silencer when assassinating someone. I ignored the affirmations and also what appeared to be medieval torture devices displayed on tables around the room and concentrated on the introductions and what was going to happen in the class. In particular I was looking forward to whatever part happened to involve the pillows we were asked to bring.

We had to introduce and talk about ourselves and do all that sh*te you do at work training courses. The Americans (we were the only non Americans there) spoke at length about their schedules and fitting the midwife visits in, I wondered when they would find time to raise the baby. I didn’t reveal that the main items in my hectic daily schedule were procrastinating at length about packing a hospital bag and trying not to pee myself when I laughed or coughed.

The day pretty much dragged, I was actually glad of the massively swollen and spreading insect bite on my leg to keep me entertained. About half way through the really uneventful proceedings the midwife produced the floor mats and told us to ready the pillows and I admit I got pretty excited. I managed not to pee myself too so all was good. We lay down to do some relaxation exercises. Now I’ll admit I was a bit perturbed about this as I am not able to relax. Especially lying on a floor mat in a nuclear fallout shelter surrounded by medieval torture devices with a little baby battering the life out of the nearest available organ to him. Also, I cannot put on my own socks anymore but that’s for another day. We had to do the old closing the eyes routine and letting all the energy go from our arms and legs. At one point there was talk of golden shafts of light coming out of ones ar*e! Whatever state of relaxation I may have achieved was shattered by this revelation. When I am giving birth there will be golden shafts of light coming out of my ass?! Is it not enough that I will be passing a human through the eyehole of a shoelace but now there is the added pressure of generation of light and not just that but GOLDEN light?! It all got a bit too much to be honest so I turned on my side and had a small nap. Drool free might I add.

When we were all “relaxed” (not me as I was thinking at length about the inherent evilness of celery, viaducts and furballs) it was time to watch the DVD. Mmmmmm. No wonder she got us all relaxed and lazy, the feckin thing was HORRENDOUS! Not so much the birth bit but the people they filmed having their babies. The first baby-haver was the nurse from the Catherine Tate comedy series and the second was Roseanne Barr from the 90’s comedy series. You could avert your gaze from the baby popping out bit but there was NO part of these women that were not on display, it was god awful viewing. Roseanne didn’t appear to even be preggers she was so mahoosive. In her shower scene you could barely see the stool she was perched atop and the nurse from Catherine Tate seemed only to be content when ripping off all her clothes, the static of which seemed to make her already wiry and electrified hair stand further on end. Clearly I am completely shallow but feck it, I don’t care! I plan to have the full nuns habit on when I have the baby and a set of sharpened rosary beads for any bastard that may try to come near me with a speculum or a feckin camera!

The highlight of my day though had to be the late arrival and general presence of Wayne and Waynetta from Waltham. This poor couple in their tracksuits and spots stood out so much, I almost felt sorry for them. While Waynetta asked about drugs and getting the ol’ figure back, the Cambridgeites asked about organic products in the hospital and using only Tylenol as pain relief. W&W had a bit of argy bargy involving tears and making up so I entirely missed the last hour of the class. It was brilliant, I should have thanked them for the distraction! Pity the alpha didn’t notice their antics, it might have saved him from destroying his jumper with drool during his multiple power naps.

So it seems that the way this birth business is going to work is as follows:

Mild pain

Flash flood of Noah and the Ark proportions when waters break

Increased pain

Snapping at husband for impregnating me

Further increase in pain

Hallucinations likely involving my lifting the Australian Open trophy

More pain in case there wasn’t enough

Kicking midwife in face accidentally

Again, pain

Asking for medieval torture devices to be produced to distract from pain

Eh, pain anyone?

Emergence of baby through wormhole

Apologies to husband for the breakage of both of his hands, nose and 2 ribs

Apologies to midwife who is now in the ER having her face repaired

Asking if the alpha will polish my Australian Open Trophy while I recover from the birth.

Bring it on, I can’t wait!