It's fun to shop at the E.B.A.Y

Just one word, fellas: HOT PINK TREWS! Yaaass!

So for ages and ages I was all 'I'd really like a pair of hot pink kegs but I'm worried I'll look like a tool' and Husband always nodded and said 'Yes, that's absolutely what you would look like.' And we agreed, and did a special handshake and everything. So, you can imagine Husband's delight when he came home and I was wearing THESE bad boys! 'WHAT. AM. THOSE?!' he shrieked manfully. Husband's grammar tends to desert him when he's surprised. 'THESE AM MY NEW KEGS!' I yelled back in ecstatic delight. 'I LOVE THEM WITH MY ENTIRE FACE! Plus, I am thinking that hot pink is now a neutral because these fellas go with everything!' Husband was not as thrilled as you would expect, and started going on about money and other irrelevant whitterings so I just thought about my new trews until he was done. And then I said:

'I Got Them On Ebay!'

I Got Them (It) on Ebay, or as it shall now be known IGTOE (partly for speed, partly for megalolz) is a phrase that Husband hears a lot from me. It is normally in response to the question 'How much was (were) that (those) item (s)?' and tends to be followed by 'That's because no-one in their right mind would buy that (those) from an actual shop' but he is WRONG and also FALSE because I am totally the last person on this EARTH to start wearing brightly-coloured leg garments and I told him that and he said 'right then'. So I won.

Until we had this conversation:

Me: Husband, I'm going to invest in some rubber footwear. Rubber footwear is useful for many reasons and I have prepared a brief powerpoint presentation to highlight these reasons.

Husband: *wearily* Can you not just buy them without telling me the reasons?

Me: Probably, but I've prepared the powerpoint and everything now so.....

Husband: Can you summerise the reasons?

Me: If y'like. ONE - They are waterproof, so extremely handy for gardening and also living in Scotland. TWO - They are comfortable, allowing me to wear them with anything, to any occasion. THREE -  even though they come in a variety of colours, I have chosen a neutral pair because I am sensible.

Husband: You are a grown woman, buy whatever shoes you like with the money you work very hard to earn (Ha! Husband would never say this, he only says things like 'oh, we have to pool our money to pay the mortgage or we'll be homeless' and other such trivialities)

Anyway, you can't say he wasn't warned. I put a lot of effort and research into this AND STILL Husband was less than thrilled when I came home with:

Vivienne Westwood Melissa Lady Dragons, which are made from bubblegum scented rubber. You tell me, YOU TELL ME, that these are not THE MOST amazing shoes you have ever seen with your own two een (EEN: A Scottish word meaning 'eye' or 'eyes' for those of you who are still developing their Scottish lexicon).

Husband said 'WHAT. THE. RUDE WORD. ARE THEM?' and I said 'I told you I was buying them! We agreed! They're SENSIBLE!' and he said 'How much?' and I said 'IGTOE' and he said 'Oh, right. I love them, you made totally the correct decision. Well done!' (FALSE)

Anyway, he's been proved wrong because I have worn them several times. And it has rained non-stop in Scotvegas for the last twenty years so it's handy to have shoes you can wipe dry. But the good thing about all the rain is: the garden is SPLENDID! So yesterday I donned my sensible rubber footwear and went out and picked a pile of these:

Sweet peas. Oh, nice!

A Play of Today

Scene: A Scottish branch of Starbucks.

A young (ish) girl enters, clutching her arm from whence blood has just been taken by a horrible Doctor, whom the girl suspects may be trying to build a new version of her with all the blood he has STOLEN from her poor now-bloodless arm. She shuffles over to the desk because while her shoes are BEAUTIFUL (30s style pinky-red peep-toe pumps with a bow), they are not exactly comfortable. She smiles at the obscenely young gentleman behind the counter.

Girl: Could I please have a mocha frappachino?
Boy: Of course! Your wish is my command! *he makes it* Would you like cream?
Girl *thinks to herself* NO CHANCE, IT'S EIGHT-THIRTY IN THE MORNING, WHO EATS CREAM AT EIGHT THIRTY IN THE MORNING?! HAVE YOU LOST CONTROL OF YOUR SENSES CHILD?! *but says aloud* No, thank you.

Several minutes pass, in which the boy noisily makes a mocha frappuchino and the girl thinks about Batman.

Boy: *passes mocha frappachino over counter*
Girl: *reels in horror at the mountain of cream adorning it* Soz, I said no cream. Could you take it off please?
Boy * looks FURIOUS, as if the girl has committed some kind of third-world atrocity RIGHT UNDER HIS NOSE*
Girl: *thinks about saying she's allergic to cream, but can't remember if there's milk inside a frappuchino, so says nothing* Em, could I please also have a slice of banana loaf?
Boy:*throws banana loaf and now creamless frappuchino over the counter and flounces off to serve next customer, who presumably isn't as difficult as the girl*

The girl leaves fairly contentedly with her mocha frapp and banana loaf, and heads towards her car. Within a few steps however, it becomes clear that all is not well in Mochafrapp Land. The girl slowly begins to realise that the boy has served her the new cookie-flavoured mochafrapp, with little crushed up bits of cookie in it. AT EIGHT THIRTY IN THE MORNING! IN THE GOOD MORNING! COOKIE MOCHAFRAPP!

But the girl is trapped in her nightmare as she feels boy would have a hernia if he was asked to remake another creamless, cookieless mochafrapp, so she bins it. She then eats the banana loaf too fast and feels sick for hours but that's another story.

The girl heads into work where a fairly uneventful eight hours passes. She glances amiably at the clock every few seconds as it gently tick-tocks its way to five beautiful o'clock. The girl skips merrily to her car, and drives home in skittish anticipation of the parcel that she knows will be waiting for her.

The girl enters her kitchen. A dark cloud descends over the scene. The girl slowly makes her way to a vicious slash of red on her kitchen table. Closer and closer she creeps (her shoes are still sore), her heart beats faster and faster, a light sweat breaks out on her forehead and she begins to tremble.

Girl: *whispers shakily* no........no, it can't be....

But it is.

THE POST OFFICE HAVE STOLEN FROM HER AGAIN!!

The girl loses her mind.