Thursday, March 27, 2008
Bunch of Nimrods
Woke up this morning, got the Financial Times (yes, I'm still in the UK), and went to get myself a cup of ambition.
The front page read: "Nimrod planned"
"The Ministry of Defense will be urged to consider cutting its losses and withdraw from the Nimrod MR44 programme to provide a new fleet of maritime reconnaissance aircraft."
Is that where we got the word, "Nimrod" from? As kids, didn't you call each other "Nimrods"?
Like, "What are doing, you Nimrod?" Or, is it just a Long Island thing?
We all speak Englsih, but it's different, for instance, I loved it when my co-worker said to me,
"I'm stepping out to grab a fag. Be right back."
I said, "Get me one, too. Make mine 25 and Latino."
OK, here's the deal. My fucking day job has me in the UK.....granted, I'm going to London over the weekend, but during the week, I'm not in London. (And, as readers, you'll have to put up with some non-Hudson related posts...I missed that Irish guy giving a talk on Friday. Send me photos, I'll post them! Trixie@GayHudson.com)
I'm not in London, I'm not even in Bristol. I'm in the outskirts of Bristol, in Almondsbury (which sounds sweet like candy, but it's not), in some industrial office park eating beans on toast and trying to stay away from the blood and guts pudding they serve for breakfast.
Yes, "blood pudding" is made from blood. Pig's blood, cow's blood, I don't know, it's just blood. And then they get all the innards, like pig-particle board, and put it together and serve it with eggs for breakfast. On toast.
(Maybe it's on the menu at DABA as well. Check. They put lots of dead animal parts on the menu there.)
Last year when I was here, this office park, that used to be farmland, had a quaint little English pub, the "Black Sheep". It was the pub on the farm from day one, maybe when the Romans were here. People were shorter because even I have to duck to get through the door.
Well, now the quaint English pub is a Starbucks.
At first I thought, "Oh, us ugly Americans, here we are putting in a Starbucks, changing local culture and flavor, and blah, blah, blah."
I was thinking like some pinko-communist.
I got over it.
Now, I'm like, thank god there's a Starbucks in this town and I can get a decent cup of coffee!!
This was my morning,
I walk into Starbucks (duck to get through the doorway), and ask for a cup of BREWED coffee.
You have to specify BREWED. Otherwise, you get "cafe americano", which is hot water with two shots of espresso....which is not really how Americans drink coffee. (I don't know why they call it americano, bunch of nimrods.)
And the gal says to me, "We don't have any brewed, but we can make it."
I said, "Yes, please."
OK....I know I'm in England, but this is Starbucks, and it's 9 AM, and I have to ask them to BREW some coffee for me?? It's not like they ran out, they just didn't brew it yet....
This is not the first time, either. It's the third time in the past couple of weeks that I have had to tell someone behind the counter of Starbucks, "Yes, I'll wait for the brewed coffee."
WTF? Just brew the fucking coffee!
It's like walking into Dunkin Donuts and saying, "Ok, I'll wait for you to make the donuts..."
Dear God, I really hope I get laid this weekend.
Can you tell?