I had a weird moment in the British Library on Wednesday when attempting to get a treat from the cafe. I decided to forego my imaginary diet I’ve been “about to start” for the past year and get myself a piece of chocolate cake. Absolute last treat for myself before I start my diet, swear (huge guffaw).
Anyway… I was in a busy line and looking forward to the really fudgy-looking chocolate cake. There were only three pieces left, so it MUST be really good. When they asked me what I wanted, I let them know I’d like a coffee and the cake, please and thank you. The woman who took my order gave me a strange look, then turned so her back was to me, and kept trying to poke another worker to get her attention. The woman I ordered from murmured something this other worker, who then looked around, picked up the plate of chocolate cake, touched a piece of it, and walked off with it. No explanation whatsoever. When the first woman rung up my order, she didn’t even mention the cake and whether or not I would want something else. Was there something wrong with these last three pieces of cake? Were they stale from being out too long? Did the workers secretly want them and were saving them for their own consumption? Were they poisoned? Did they think I didn’t look like I needed any more cake (which would be correct, but whatever, let me live my 300 lbs life)? Did I even really ask for it? Maybe this was a figment of my imagination and there was never really cake there at all. The world may never know.
Thankfully, the BL has an upstairs cafe, too. So I went up there to get something to snack on. The girl upstairs was much nicer and suggested I have a brownie. When I was on my last bite of brownie, I happened to look up and make eye contact with a man in a booth nearby. He did not avert his eyes. I mean, I was in mid bite, brownie stuck in my mouth, looking straight in his baby blues… and he didn’t even blink. I wasn’t sure how to react. People always avert their eyes, that’s how life works. It’s an unwritten rule. Strangers do not stare at each other – ESPECIALLY if one is stuffing their face with a delicious baked good and has already been shamed for wanting to eat chocolate cake. I’m just glad I wasn’t eating a banana. Talk about a whole different kind of awkward.
I find it really interesting the kind of things the mind dregs up during the wee hours of the morning (or is this considered the dead of night?). I woke up around 3:45am to pee and have been unable to drift back to sleep. This is due to my brain is doing the traditional, “Hey, time to think about all you have to do and get panicky and anxious,” as well as the ever popular, “Remember every embarrassing and dumb thing you’ve ever done? Let’s brood on that,” thought processes. But tonight it has also thrown in, “Remember what your very first email was? Let’s try to remember for the next half hour,” which is new.
So here I am, trying to remember what my very first email was, while fighting the burning in my eyes that means my body wants to be asleep. I know it was a hotmail account (wasn’t everything in the early 2000s?). I’m also fairly sure it had an “88” at the end of it. I’m not 100%, but I don’t believe I had anything super embarrassing in it per most first emails such as, “cutie_pie88” or “sExYkItTeN_34.” Then again, as I can’t remember it, who knows!
On Thursday, Marina and I spent the day together before she left for Brazil. She had an evening flight, so we decided to go to Green Park to get some souvenirs for her family and get lunch while we were in the area. On the way to Green Park, however, we stopped to get a coffee. I don’t often take drinks onto the tube with me. I don’t like having to hold a lot of things when I already have my huge backpack to contend with. I’m also accident prone. Cue my next story.
I don’t know what it is about the UK, but 6/10 times I get a faulty to-go lid. I noticed that my drink (plain black filter coffee, duh) was dribbling down the side of my cup from beneath the lid and starting to make the coffee sleeve all soggy. I pointed it out to Marina and said how the sleeve was going to crumple into nothing soon and my hands would be on fire. Little did I know, the brim of my coffee cup was also getting soggy. I went to adjust the cup, but the side crumpled in and the top popped off, spilling scalding hot coffee all over my lap. I understand that lady who sued McDonald’s. It definitely was not a pleasant experience. I think my exact words were, “MOTHER OF – IT IS SO HOT, MY THIIIIIGHS, DEAR GOD WHY? IT BURNS!” Marina tried to quickly dig through her purse for a napkin, but she only had a receipt, which she offered to me because she’s a good friend. I thanked her, but turned down her offer. The burning was starting to fade at that point, and I could only imagine how much sillier I would look dabbing myself uselessly with a receipt.
On the plus side, I was wearing black pants. So even though my entire crotch/lap area was wet, you couldn’t tell. Didn’t look like I had an accident or anything.
On the other plus side, my thighs are big enough that no coffee got anywhere on the ground or seat. The thunder twins set up an effective blockade that took the full blast, saving the next person from sitting in an awkward, inexplicable wet area.
On the other, OTHER plus side, people in London don’t interact with each other on the tube, so no one seemed to have noticed. I could have fallen to the ground writhing in boiling coffee, and they would have happily kept their gazes averted. No need to feel embarrassed!
I was asked to attempt a drawing for Marina’s beau’s band to use on Spotify for a single they have coming out. I’m nervous and excited. I really WANT to do this, but I’m not sure how well I could do it. Or how much time I have to do it… Art stuff has always made me self-conscious, and a time crunch doesn’t make it any better. Maybe I’ll skip out on it.