Tag Archives: comedy

Coffee Snob

14 Jul

I was a bit of a johnny come lately to the coffee scene.  My far more cultured friends and I were meeting for catchups in the booming café scene and one day I noticed I was the only one without a glass of caramel coloured liquid in front of me.  While my friends had perfected their coffee order; flat white, latte, decaf, weak, strong, skinny, full cream etc, etc, the most challenging question I had to answer was whether I wanted one or two marshmallows!  That’s right I was still chugging down the not so chic hot chocolate and I realized it was time I stepped up to the adults table and order me some caffeine.


This was all BC, before children, so the need for a regular coffee stimulant wasn’t really there, I mean if I was tired I just went and took a nap!  So it wasn’t really a need for a caffeine jolt that made me take the leap I just wanted to seem less like the prepubescent nerd and more like one of the cool kids sipping on caffeine.


So I ordered a latte, mostly because that seemed the more popular choice and as an added bonus it came with a pretty white serviette wrapped around it.  Apparently in the early days of drinking lattes our fingers were all too delicate for this hot beverage in a glass and had to be protected by a paper serviette wrapped around the middle of it!  Not sure what happened to the serviette, maybe our fingers hardened up from daily coffees, maybe we realized we were wiping out rainforests by wrapping paper products around glasses that were really, more than adequate in protecting our digits.  Anyhoo I thoroughly enjoyed my first coffee, it helped that I added three heaped teaspoons of refined sugar thus making it more of a sweet syrup than a real coffee.


As I said that was BC, after we entered the breeding program our daily coffee intake seemed to skyrocket and seemed to be as essential as the air we breathed.  By the time we had produced our third bundle of joy we had “invested” in a coffee machine at home.  That poor machine didn’t stand a chance, we wore it out and then we wore another one out and with this one we’re hoping three times a charm!  Time will tell.


Now that our munchkins are older we also like to go out for coffee but we don’t leave it to chance, oh no we have become such coffee snobs that we research where we should get a coffee!  If we find ourselves in some suburb we’re not familiar with we consult our coffee handbook!  To us it’s our go to guide, pages and pages of reviews and descriptions, we have become such a slave to it’s recommendations that we dare not try any place that is not listed in our guide!


Our city’s paper even has a part in their Tuesday’s epicure lift-out devoted to coffee and I religiously turn to it each week.  Sure I don’t know my Ethiopian blend from my eco friendly Jamaican co-op blend but I love that there are people who do.  What stopped my love affair in its tracks was an article about baristas and certain cafes starting to draw the line at particular orders.  A few have decided not to do soya milk in coffees any more, it ruins the integrity of the blend, blah, blah, blah.  Say what!!  I don’t want to go all home girl ghetto but just make my coffee the way I like it, if I want to ruin it with soya milk let me pay the privilege for it, oh that’s right I already do because soya milk is always charged more anyway!!!!


The other clanger that quite a few cafes have decided on is only one size, again supposedly done for the convenience of the paying customer, apparently we’re all so desperate with caffeine addiction that we can’t wait another couple of minutes if someone ahead of us wants to order a large size coffee.


So this is what it has come too, you get us all addicted to your smooth, gloriously satisfyingly wonderful blends, you publish guides, columns in newspapers, you have apps, expos, there are even tours, (yes I’m desperate to do one of these), you do all this and then you change the rules.  You even suckered us in with cool and friendly baristas, if you’re as easily pleased as me you’d love the uber cool dude or dudette who remembers your order and just starts making it.  I have been reeled in hook, line and sinker and now I have been thrown to the kerb with my large takeaway cup and soya milk.


If I was strong, if I had principles, if I wasn’t a slave to the coffee bean I’d just go home and brew myself a satisfying pot of peppermint tea.  Unfortunately I am weak so I will meekly go and order my regular size latte with regular milk and sure I will savour the taste and enjoy the experience but I want all the hipster baristas to know this  –  you may have won this time but somehow, somewhere I might just, probably think of some way to grab back the power.  Of course all my better ideas come to me after a coffee so I will just go and get a coffee…… doooh!!!!!



Inner Schwonker

26 Apr


One of the few good things about getting older is that you find acceptance for the things that seemed so important only a few short years ago. For example the size of my bum, I have come to accept its expansion and jelly like quality, I don’t love it but I’ve accepted most of the time I can’t even see it so really, it seems like someone else’s problem. So my blessings are many and apart from really, really wanting someone to magically appear and clean my house on a semi regular basis, ok daily basis, I thought I was quite zen as a human being. Of course that was before I got my access all areas at a recent Coldplay concert, that is where my zen went out the window and my inner schwonker reared it’s ugly head.

This will really piss of hardcore Coldplay fans but I’m really only a “yeah I really like them”, “they’re great, really talented”, but I really only know their songs from what I hear around. So no I don’t know what they’re latest album was called or even what the bass player or drummers name is but I didn’t have to because one of my besties had chosen me and two others to go with her to their concert and use her access all areas passes.

The cosmic forces had come together, my wonderful friend had reunited with her old friend who just happened to be coming to our home town and as luck would have it he was to be an important part of the Coldplay tour. So through sheer luck and friendship I found myself at the Coldplay concert for free and oh did I mention with an access all areas pass!

While we were waiting for our Coldplay connection to come and bestow upon us our pass we traded stories about tragic concert behaviour we had done in our past. Yeah that’s right we were trying to keep it cool, real cool but I swear to you the moment that access all area pass was taped around our wrist there was a bit more swagger in our step. We were ushered through the backstage area straight onto the floor area, right in front of stage. I’d like to say that I didn’t notice people see us being ushered in and then have things pointed out to us, but I did indeed notice and I did indeed like it.

So my chest was a little more puffed up with self importance, sure we were probably not the only ones walking around with these passes, there may have been even better passes than these ones but we didn’t care, we had access to all areas. Of course we found out soon enough that “all” didn’t actually mean complete rockstar access, we were hardly hanging out with the band in their dressing rooms but it was the closest I’d ever been to the inner sanctum of a band.

We decided to celebrate our upgraded status with some bubbly, so while we were waiting in the line my mind drifted to the alternate universe where our all area pass was spotted by one of the officials, he rushes forward, while he offers apologies for not noticing earlier how important we are he whisks us to a secret door, they’ll be no watered down, over priced substandard drinks tonight for us. Oh yeah this is how it’s meant to be, privilege and power, this is good, this is…

“What do you want?” the disinterested bargirl asks.

Ripped out of my dream world into reality I hand over way too much money for drinks with way too little alcohol content. With watered down drinks in hand we head back to the our prime positions, we glide past the people who probably paid a fairly hefty amount and more than likely spent a lot of time on the phone or computer hitting the redial or refresh button trying to get their seats. See you later suckers, sure your seats are good but they’re not access all areas, alright I’m not drunk enough yet to say anything as obnoxious as that but I think the way I casually shift my pass up and down my arm they can they get the message.

I notice that the gals I’m with are playing it a little cooler than me so I stop what is potentially becoming an OCD thing and stop moving the pass up and down my arm. While I’m deciding what level of obnoxiousness is suitable at this time of the night I notice the line we’re in has stopped moving. I lean forward to one of my gal pals and say

“There really should be a separate line for access all area passes.”

Whatever level of obnoxiousness I was contemplating before has been knocked out of the park because there is now a new level, and its name is schwonker. To my delight my gal pal smiles and agrees so I know she too has joined the club.

The line starts moving again and we are about to go through the gates taking us to our prime position.

“You can’t go in there.” a burly security guard blocks our path.

Now if you were interested in human behaviour you would be fascinated by the next turn of events. One of us stood there open mouthed, looking confused, one instantly went into game on mode and the other tipsy from skulling her overpriced cheap wine stepped forward and said one of the most schwonkiest things you could say.

“ Don’t you know who I am?”

In the cold light of day without access all areas bands on I would never ask anyone this question because quite frankly I’m not sure I’d want to know their response! On the other hand my inner schwonker has no problem asking it. My blessing is that my question was drowned out by the music starting and my girlfriend having a heated argument with the security guard about the definition of the word all.

I’d like to say I returned to my zen self when I got home but I’ll admit I did wear a t-shirt and “forget” to cut my wrist band for a couple of days afterwards. My inner schwonker milked that access all areas band for more days than was really right to do so. Inner shwonker has been contained now but I know that given the right circumstances it could rear it’s ugly head at any opportunity!!