Today I made another awful and all too frequent for my liking decision to attempt to go shopping. That’s twice this year. Uggh. But it was an emergency. I have my second photography job tomorrow and it’s a baptism, so I need to look respectable. Church respectable. Fark.
Anyway, excrutiating story short, of course the trip was not fruitful in any way that would help me tomorrow… but I did see this…
What the fugging fug? Ignoring the fact that it’s pink (vomit) is this what fashion has come to? It looks like a bath mat that someone has sewn a hood on and attached a zip to. Or should that be the other way around? Hood to, zip on? Whatever… who would buy this?
Now, at first I actually wrote that maybe these are the new uniforms for people who work in the toilets at nightclubs, that in a push for better tips they’ve taken to lying on the floor and literally letting people walk all over them. But then I had second thoughts. Too far you think? But what if I told you that I used to work in a toilet at a club, would that make it ok? Is there room for censorship in The Bum Diaries?
Oh you now what, it’s Friday. Here’s a silly fluff story instead. I probably deserved this for being in a McDonalds and I don’t know why it irks me so, but as I’ve said before customer service in the UK hasn’t been invented yet. Feel free to call me a hypocrite at this point though, because when I got treated badly in New York I wore it like a badge of honour, it made me smile, I gloated to my friends, hell I even wrote it on postcards “A New Yorker was rude to me, I feel like a native, I may move here!”
Anyhoo… McDonalds… earlier…
Me: Can I please have some chicken tasters?
Maccas (that’s Aussie-speak for McDonalds): Some what?
Me: Chicken tasters…
Maccas: blank stare
Me: Oh sorry, maybe that’s not what they’re called, you know, chicken pieces, not nuggets but long strips of chicken…
Maccas: Ohhhh chicken nuggets.
Me: No, I said not nuggets, longer bits of chicken, about this long (gestures finger size).
Maccas: You mean a chicken wrap?
Me: No they’re by themselves, just bits of chicken with a sauce packet.
Maccas: (light goes off, pulls out a poster with a picture of chicken strips about finger size long)
Me: (smiles) Yes, that’s them.
Maccas: (look of disdain, big sigh and click of tongue) These are little tasters!!
Me: (wasted sarcastic retort) Oh god, I’m sorry, how stupid of me. I was speaking English.