Here’s a thing you may not know about me: I don’t drink. Nor do I smoke or have a ghastly drug habit. But, I do have nasty habits that aren’t good for me. One of those is soda. I LOVE soda. I try really hard not to drink too much – with varying degrees of success – but, I love, love, love it. I rank my favorite sodas in the same way a fancy-schmancy wine taster might compile a best-of list for a hoighty-toighty magazine.
My favorites are the Pepsi family of sodas and my bestie, Panda, also has a well-developed Pepsi-fancy. Recently, Pepsi released a new drink – presumably to compete with the “power drink” market – named “Pepsi Max Kick”. I was ever so excited. I ran out and bought two cans and I sent Panda a message:
I got two! One for me and one for you (which I shall drink in your honor – thought maybe not all at once in case my head ‘splodes)
To which she replied:
YAY I WANT A RUNNING COMMENTARY PLS
Well, naturally, I complied with her request, and I did so in pictures. And so, gentle reader, for your consumer information, I present you a pictorial review of the beverage “Pepsi Max Kick”.
It all starts with a “ksssshhhhhtt”.
Mmm… tastes like Pepsi Max, but, like… more.
You may also notice that I forgot it was still winter and decided it would be a good idea to shave my head. O_O
Oh, Little Stupid.
I DO love you, Pepsi! Don’t ever leave me!
Twice the caffeine? Indeed!
ILUVPEPSIMAXKICKPLZKTHNXBAI! SRS BSNS!
The excitement took its toll.
Please also take note of my extreme lack of neck. I’ve always wished for an actual neck, alas.
It’s THAT good.
What? That’s it?
Swift onset withdrawal.
Grief and acceptance.
In conclusion, I would like them to start selling Pepsi Max Kick in 2L bottles. I don’t even care if it shuts my body down one organ at a time… such a sweet way to go…
In seriousness, it tastes just like Pepsi Max, but slightly more flavorful. I didn’t really go bonkers on it, it’s not that intense, but I’ll qualify that by saying things don’t seem to quite affect me as easily – it’s like trying to drug a buffalo. But, I think it provides a good alternative for a caffeine boost to people who, like me, don’t drink coffee and think power drinks taste like fetid cat urine.
Also, please note that this was in no way a paid advertisement by Pepsi…. but it could be! If you’re reading, Pepsi, have your people call my people, we’ll do lunch.
What’re your habits that you can’t kick even if you know better? Sharezies! Don’t let me suffer alone! Hehe ^_~
I’d like to think that, over the months or more that we’ve been engaged is this odd little exchange between blogger and reader, we’ve become friends of a sort. And friends share things, and sometimes these things maybe don’t show the sharer in the best light. Or perhaps it reveals just how silly they really are. Well, I’d like to tell you about the day I had on Friday. I think it’s a pretty good story; it has the lows of grumpiness and tantrums, and the highs of unadulterated silliness and delirium. Mostly, I hope you get a laugh, rather than thinking me a brat. It’s a long one, but I hope you’ll come with me on this little trip.
It all started on a high note, but little did I know that this was merely a starting off point. At my temp contract, I finished all the work they had for me ahead of time (cuz I’m, like, properly awesome! Kidding!), so I had an early mark and left at lunch time. It was then that I realized that my earphones – my favorite, fancy, green Skullcandy ones – were busted! I couldn’t get sound in both ears without fiddling with the the cord, and even then, I had to constantly move it around, I couldn’t just hold it in a certain direction. Well, hurrumph! Off I went to JB HiFi to purchase a new pair (working full-time is nice, because you can just go out and do that).
I found a super-fancy pair of new Skullcandy ones that had a microphone/volume/play-pause clicker on it so I could use it with my iPhone as well (which is bordering on unnecessary anyway because I’ll turn myself inside out to avoid speaking on the phone), but they were very pizzazzy and white, and even though they were expensive, I could justify it because they came with a little zip-up case to keep them safe. Perfection! So, I wandered towards the counter to pay for them when I saw a wireless keyboard with a trackpad where the number pad usually is. And I stopped.
You see, Joel has a wireless keyboard and mouse, and his computer is set up through the ginormous television and he sits on the couch to do his web trawling and game playing. But, the wireless keyboard is a bit old, and many a time recently I have found him cursing the thing and pounding keys with an accusatory finger while stamping closer and closer to the computer tower. As amusing as his little huffing fit is to behold, I knew he wouldn’t buy himself a new keyboard until it completely gave out, and honestly, it’s no way for a nerd to live. So, here was a wireless computer, with a built-in trackpad no less, for sale and staring me in my face. I spun on my heels and put my back earphones and chose a cheaper (but still seemingly good quality) earphones so I could afford the keyboard as well.
By the time I’d walked a few city blocks to the yarn shop I realized that the $30 earphones I’d bought were complete and utter rubbish. To be fair, my hearing is pretty atrocious to begin with, but the sound quality through these suckers was like listening to someone singing with their face firmly planted into their pillow. I sat at the table in the yarn store, feeling a little grumpy, but still buoyed by my early mark from work. All of my friends in the yarn store encouraged me to take them back. I was a little doubtful because they’re in-ear buds, and that would be aaaalmost like returning a pair of underpants that you’d warn, wouldn’t it? Which is rather unsavory. But, they reasoned that it couldn’t hurt to try. So, I walked back the three or four city blocks to try my luck.
As it turns out, returning earbuds IS JUST LIKE returning underpants you’ve already worn. The gentlemen was very apologetic (I suspect he was aware how garbage the earbuds really were) but it was store policy. I tried to think if we had spare pair at home, and Joel even texted to say I could use his (which would leave him without any, and I’m not that mean!) and I really didn’t want to spend more money, but I gave in. It’s a first world problem, but I really can’t live without my music. It’s as much a love of tunes as it is protection against sensory overload and social anxiety when out-and-about. So, I went back to the headphone section and bought the pair I’d chosen in the first place like a Little Stupid, and pushed the budget-panic to the back of my head.
Now, I could enjoy the train ride home in my musical bubble, which I did, along with some knitting. All was well until I started walking up my drive and realized that I didn’t have my keys. Joel and I usually meet up after work, so I never needed them and therefore never checked that I them. I’d left them in my other bag. Geesh! After a few choice cuss words, I took a few deep breaths and thought what I would do. Joel said he could come home if I had something to do to tide me over for a bit, but he had planned to go out for drinks with his bestie and I didn’t want to be a party-pooper. In the end, I decided that since the real estate agent was five or six blocks away, so I would go get a spare set of keys from them. We had never received keys to our back or side doors (I know, I know, we should have sorted that out long ago), so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.
I got to the real estate agents and they were happy to lend me their set of keys, with one catch: they had to be back in the office by the close of business, which by this time, was in about half an hour. Oy. Well, I had two options. I could not worry about getting the back and side keys and just go home, let myself in, get my keys, bring the agent’s keys back, and go home again. It’s not a long walk, but not a walk you want to do four times in a row, lugging all your stuff with you, so that was properly unappealing. Or I could go to the row of shops and get some keys cut. The downside to that was that the agent didn’t know which keys were which, there was just a whole bunch of keys on a ring. Even all the tops of the keys and colors were all the same, so the teeth were the only differences. I figured I’d try my luck.
I called Joel and asked him to take pictures of the teeth of his keys and message them to me, so I could figure out which keys we didn’t have by a process of elimination. I was feeling very smug and clever with myself as I walked to the shops and waited for Joel’s message to come though. Only, it didn’t. Between my calling him and arriving outside the store, my phone’s battery had died! Well, that was perfect! I almost had a stampy-tantrum at this point, but managed to contain myself, though I did get a few sidelong glances; I must have looked particularly unhinged by now. I calmed myself and tried to reason. If I only got one key cut, and it was for either the wooden front door, or the front screen, then I wouldn’t be able to get in. If I got two keys cut, those two keys would either both be for the front doors, or one key would be a front door and the other would be for the back or side door, or both would be for the back or side door. So, no matter what I’d be able to get in. So I picked two keys at random and had them cut, returned the agent’s keys, and headed home.
I tried the screen door. Neither key worked. A feeling of satisfaction swelled within my chest. Even if one of these keys was for the wooden front door, the other was for one of the doors we didn’t have keys for, and maybe both keys were the ones we were missing! I made my way to the side door and tried the keys. Nope. That was odd. I circled round to the back door and tried both keys. Nope. Suddenly, it felt like that feeling of satisfaction shriveled up into a lump of coal, and my heart fell out of my butt. Seriously!? I was crazed now. The whole week and had been overcast and cool, but of course today was sunny and warm, and I’m a ginger! I was hot, sticky, exhausted and I could feel myself getting sunburned and I couldn’t get into my house! I began frantically going from side door to back door, trying the keys over and over again, just to make sure. No. Neither key did anything. One of them didn’t even fit the keyholes.
My rage turned to the real estate agents. Even if one of those keys fit the wooden door behind the screen door, at least one of these keys was completely useless. Why on earth would the agent have multiple keys that didn’t fit any of our locks? Did they collect useless keys? Was that a thing? Then my rage turned to myself. Why couldn’t I just be like every other functioning adult and make sure I have my keys with me every day. Then I just felt sorry for myself. “Aww, Little Stupid,” I thought, “you’re really not very good at life, are you?”.
Feeling very sheepish, and giving over to the exhaustion, I sat down on the back step in the shade. Then I remembered, my iPod was fully charged, and I was pretty sure I could get our house’s wifi signal from there! I switched on my iPod and sent Joel a few emails to let him know what had happened, and to see when I could expect him home. No replies. Siiiiiiighh. It was going to be a while. Luckily, me being me, I had some knitting in my bag. So, out it came and I knitted away at the back piece of a cardigan. I descended into that crafty bliss you feel when you’re doing nothing but working with your hands, no distraction, no clock-watching, just pure and thorough enjoyment. I was in my happy place. That is, until I ran out of yarn.
I packed my project up again, and pulled out a book and read for a little while. At this point, I had been sitting on the step like a bedraggled little orphan for almost three hours. After a while it became a bit too dark to read in the shadow of the house, and so I listened to music on my iPod. The warm, sunny day began to set and turn dark and the wind picked up. I’d gone from actually feeling myself burn to shivering in the gloom of evening. As if on queue, my iPod shuffled to Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush, one of my favorite songs of all-time, and it seemed almost eerily fitting thematically. I decided to write a last ditch attempt email to Joel, which read as follows:
Subject: Let Me In Your Window
It’s starting to get cold and windy here. By the time you get home, it will be like Wuthering Heights. I shall be dead and my ghost shall be rapping at your window. “Joelcliff! Let me in your window! It’s so cold outside!”. After which I shall don a red dress and take to the moors, singing in my Kate Bush falsetto and interpretive dancing all over the hizzy. “Joelcliff! It’s me, your Raynie! I’ve come home! I’m so co-o-o-o-old! Let me in your wind-o-o-ow! Ooh, let me have it, let me gra-a-ab your soul! Who-o-ah, you know it’s me, your Raynie!”. And then I’ll disappear. And then reappear. And then disappear.
And then reappear. And then disappear.
Now, if you’re not familiar with the “red dress version” of the Wuthering Heights video, I’ve included a little montage for reference.
At this point, I honestly can’t explain what my thought process was. I had well and truly lost my mind. I can’t truthfully say that I hadn’t set a precedent of Kate Bush impressions. They’re not entirely uncommon, per se. At any rate, I was cold, crazy, and possessed by the musical and poetic spirits of Kate Bush and Emily Bronte, and before I knew it, my email – at least in part – proved to be prophetic. I took to the back yard dancing like a dervish to the small, tinny strains of Wuthering Heights from my iPod. It didn’t take me long to realize that my iPod also had a camera. Why I felt like that was a good idea, I’ll never know but, there you have it. And, once one has done such a thing, I’ve found it’s best not to look back or get self-conscious about it because one’s friends usually will get a laugh or two out of it at the very least.
So naturally, I posted photographic proof of my delirious Bush-Bronte break-down to Facebook.
There may have also been a video, but unless you have me as a personal friend on Facebook, I shall refrain from sharing that with you in the interest of salvaging some dignity ^_~ but without further ado, I present you Wuthering Heights: The Shy Lion version.
(a friend pointed out that if you clicked through the photo gallery quickly it looks rather impressive, but in the absence of such things, I shall post them in single file so perhaps to can scroll down quickly for a similar effect)
I hope I haven’t frightened you all away, and you’ve at least gotten a giggle from this this malarky. Joel arrived home from drinks and was so happy with his gifty keyboard and so pitied the pathetic little fool dancing about the backyard that he didn’t raise an eyebrow at my spending splurge. He had switched of his cell phone email to conserve battery which is why he didn’t get my emails, which is really alright, because I feel closer to Kate Bush than ever. All’s well that ends well, I suppose! ^_^
Have you had any silly misadventures lately? I’d love hear them!