John Silver: Your secret is safe with me. And to even if out, I’m going to tell you all of my secrets. I once forgot to brush my hair for five weeks. I didn’t actually sell my last boat, I just forgot where I parked it. I don’t know who Henry Avery is, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask. I once threw a bottle of rum at a goose, and then it attacked Billy.
Had to make a throwaway as my dad is pretty sensitive about anything to do with his job/life appearing on the dreaded interwebs.
My dad is a policeman and he works with a man, let’s call him Bobby, who, by all accounts, is a pretty stand up fella. Hard-working (my dad hates the lazy) and generally a pretty nice guy. Anyway, his downfall came about 5 years ago when he had an affair, having been married for 15 years. I should mention at this point that they have no children. Suffice to say, his wife was not over the moon about it. You hear stories about scorned partners setting fire to their other half’s cars or scattering their clothes down the street, but this, as far as angry spouse revenge is something quite special.
Bobby’s wife found out about the affair because a friend of hers is married to a colleague of his. News spreads etc. Instead of confronting him about it, she thought long and hard about a way to really ruin his damn day. Bobby had an important work day coming up…..some sort of meeting with his superiors with a potential for promotion but I can’t remember the details.
Bobby’s wife carefully took a thread cutter to each item of clothing that he would be wearing that day and unpicked every other damn stitch. No kidding, from his suit down to his underwear.
You can imagine that the morning hustle and bustle commute was enough to perhaps strain some of the seams at most. But as the day wore on, his clothes started to slowly fall apart. First a hole in the toe of his shoe (she was obviously dedicated to the cause), then his trousers started to fray upwards from the ankles. The real kicker came when, 10 minutes into his very important business meeting, the arm fell off his suit jacket. The meeting was cut short and, for reasons that may or may not be related, I don’t believe that he ever received the promotion he was after. Bobby and his wife and now happily divorced.
i work as a barista & people tell me all the time that The Drinks Got Gender. Thats A Lady Coffee, people try to say
its fucking bean water
can’t believe i can’t just reply to this but: maybe they’re actually telling you that this coffee has an important status. Lady Coffee
oh shit i was in the presence of bean water royalty oh fuck i must have looked like such a rube. such a fool.
what the fuck does this post mean ive been trying to decipher its hieroglyphic encrypted message but i cant
“From a deconstructionist stand point, I have to disagree with a large portion of the customers that I, a humble barista tend to each day. The assertion that certain coffee drinks are more suitable for one gender or another is folly. For as we know: 1. gender is a social construct, & 2. coffee of any type is simply hot water strained through roasted beans, & has no greater affect on either culturally assigned sex.”
“What ho, kind friend! Is it not unfortunate that I cannot simply reply to this post, & most reblog it? What a farce, this blue website! Ah, but I digress: what if perhaps your customers were not asserting not the suitability of the drink for a given gender, but rather indicating some matter of status? Perhaps the coffee is possessing of a high rank in society. This is of course my purely grammatical viewpoint on the subject.”
“Oh, damnation! This does in fact seem much more likely than my own ludicrous assumptions, & I was no doubt in the presence of roasted bean royalty! Some emissary from foreign soil! Curses! What a country bumpkin I’ve made myself out to be!!”
Meg's Mumbles 