She's going to kill me with a tray!

There’s laughable and then there’s gob smackingly laughable!

If you’ve read my past blogs, you would be well aware of my tray collecting at work. I like collecting my trays! Not only do I help clean up the area, I’m also being eco –friendly AND I get a free tea for my hard work. I truly do not see the harm in taking advantage of the free tea for 50 trays system… even if I am the only person doing it.

On Friday I went down stairs with a pile of 50. Never in my life have I cheated on the number of trays I have handed in. You want 50 for tea? I will give you 50 dead on, nothing more, nothing less. I mean really, it’s not worth the bad karma for a cup of flipping tea!
I waited in line with my trays, “Hi, I have 50 trays. May I please have a cup of tea?”
Now the lady behind the counter is a bit of a beast on a power trip. I’m used to her suspicious eyes following me. Today she replied with, “How many you got there?”
I replied very sweetly, “50. Like last week.”
The beast eyed me up like a dog about to strike a tennis ball, “Don’t put them on the big pile, just put them aside.”

After a comment like this, I’m making the assumption that she wants to count them. Firstly, not only is it sad that I collect the stupid things it’s also even sadder that I do it for a free tea worth 40p. Now the beast wants to count them? Are we really going to have a power struggle over 40p? I guess we are.

I put the pile down behind the bin. If she doesn’t trust me and wants to count them, first she has to squeeze in behind the bin to fetch them. She narrowed her eyes at me as I came back to the counter. “Tea?” One word, the beast is ANGRY.
“Yes please.” She poured me half a cup of tea.
Now hold up! Did I bring you 25 or 50 trays? Fill it up Scotty. I want my 50 trays worth of tea please.
“Could you please fill it up a little more?”
With a grunt, (yes the beast actually sounds like a beast) she filled my cup up to the brim with hot water… my money is on she did it on purpose. Not to worry, I simply poured a little out with a smile.

I left the café with my colleague and together we had to giggle at what just went down. “Do you really think she’s going to count them?”
“With out a doubt. She’s had it in for me since the cake incident.”
“What, there was a cake incident?”
“Incident is putting it lightly!”

There is NOTHING Sweet about Caroline!

Neil Diamond. One of the greatest artists of all time… save it for someone who has a strong stomach.

I just went down to the café and what did they have coming over the toast Area, Sweet Caroline while everyone else nodded their heads hummed along, I made a bee line for the exit. There is only one artist I can’t stand and that’s Neil Diamond.

My step father’s mother has a fixation on him. All I ever heard when I was around her was Neil Friggin’ Diamond. Every weekend, day in, day out she always had Neil Diamond on. The sound of his voice now takes me back to tortured times. I can’t bare it. When you’re little you are immune to only so much. One Christmas I cracked!
It was just after my brother was born. Mum hosted a little Christmas Shindig at our house for that side of the family. It just so happened that one of the presents I got was a Spice Girls CD. Mum had anticipated that I was going to be pushed aside for the new baby. She made sure that I had an ample amount of Spice Girl products and accessories to keep me amused for the entire day. So while I had a Spice Girls CD to dance around too with my new Spice Dolls, I was more than happy to let everyone ignore me. (Yes, Spice Girls… But that’s another story for another therapist!)

I was grooving around Spicing up My Life with miniature Posh and Ginger when all of a sudden, “Why don’t you turn that off and put this on.” Crap, My step father's mother spoke to me! I never liked it when she talked to me. She only ever talked me when I did something wrong or she had found some type of fault with me that she wished to point out. Honestly, I get it, you don’t like me. That’s fine, I don’t like you and yes, your son is with a woman who already has a kid… deal with it lady.
“What type of music is it?” If you want me to turn the Spice Girls off, it better be bloody good!
“Neil Diamond’s Christmas Carol Compilation.”
Now if I had been a few years older I would have replied with, “Not a chance in hell, Crazy Lady!” but seeing as I was only 11 and quite scared of her, I stood on the spot and cried… and cried… and cried a little louder until mum came in.

“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to turn the Spice Girls off. I don’t like Neil Diamond.”
Crazy Lady butted into the mother daughter bonding session. “Don’t be silly, turn it off and put this on.”
Now, it’s no secret that mum isn’t her biggest fan either. But she had to keep the peace.
“Kell, how about you turn it off for a while.” Mum tried to sooth the sobs away.
“It wasn’t sob even sob loud.” Keep in mind I was 11.
Again Crazy Lady added her 2 cents, “Yes, go play in your room and leave the adults alone.”
Mum left the room before she threw a chair at her.

I stood there and slowly took my CD out. Crazy Lady tapped her foot impatiently. Maybe if she hadn’t tapped her foot I wouldn’t have done it. Nah, even if she had asked nicely I still would have done it. As I took the CD out I looked up to her with a smile, “There you go. Would you like me to put your music on?”
“Yes, I don’t know how this works. You do it.”
I smiled to myself as I walked up the hall. All I could hear was “It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? I can see the CD is spinning but there is no sound?”
I waited till I got to my room before I pulled out the stereo’s remote control from under my shirt. Like to see you un-mute the stereo with no control, biatch!

Work Quiz Night

Just in case you missed it, I’m not always the happy go lucky kind of girl. I have moments where I resemble a smaller, less green Incredible Hulk. Such moment can arise for a variety of reasons but there is one in particular that makes me very mad… people spelling my god-damn name wrong!

Last week at work there was a quiz night. Now me being me and never settling for second, my team and I won the quiz. Okay okay… the team I was on won, I was just there to boost the female numbers and write down the answers they gave me. But tomato, potato, I was on the team that won and I took home 1 fifth of the prize money. A whopping £17! (Honey… We’re eatin’ tonight!) So winning put me in a great mood, the money put me in a great mood, seeing my name under **WINNERS** spelt incorrectly on the company intranet… foul mood, with pursed lips and a head shake that reads “Who ever did this is doomed!”

Now I could have rung the social committee but I watch The Office and frankly, I’m scared of the Party Planning Committee. I imagine that’s what the Bank’s Social Committee is like. The woman on The Office is such an angry beaver. Lets be honest, she gives me a run for my money in the angry department. So the thought of ringing my work’s Social committee and putting in a complaint is low on my priority list.

If I were to ring them I actually have a list of things I’d like to discuss before the topic of my name even comes to surface:

1. Firstly the lack of free alcohol at the quiz. We’re a German bank with lots of Germans. Do you honestly think we all pitched up for a quiz? Gives us beer, damn it!
2. The food. Or rather the Iceland Chicken Nuggets they tried to pass off as food. Since when do I eat cheese sandwiches? Since when did people start serving sandwiches at a pub?
3. Also the age demographic the questions were targeted at. How on earth am I going to know who stared in X film in 1954? Was my mum even born then? Do I look like I know anything about the Periodical table? Nobel element what now? Sod it, I’ll sit, smile and write down the answers my team mates give me.

I’m a self proclaimed righteous cow and I demand my name be spelt rite... but I’m fighting a loosing war. People will always make the assumption that I’m like all the other Kell’s out there, that is until they meet me of course. I can stamp and cry until the cows come home but people will always spell my name wrong. It just sucks that my name has been put down incorrect on the company intranet. How are people supposed to send me e-mails of “congratulations” and “you’re awesome,” if they have the wrong name. It’s just a sad cock up in the end.

Mirco Blog 1: 3D Glasses

I have a headache. Prehaps this is because I've been playing with 3D glasses today. You must admit, they're pretty snazzy!

Phileep and Flop - Lest We Forget

4 years ago, my brother and I had a traumatic event unfold in front of us. Our Beloved hermit crabs, Phileep and Flop tragically passed away.

It was while my parents and little six year old brother where away, that I thought it would be a great idea to get myself a pet. Now we all know I’m not a dog person and a cat is a lot of hard work. I could have got a fish but that’s as exciting as Monday morning at work. No, if I was going to get a pet it would have to be different. After much discussion and giggles with a friend, we both went to the pet store picked a Hermit Crab each.

Phileep soon became the love of my life. Phileep had pride of place in the lounge; he was fed only the best dried fruit and only the most expensive oats on the market. His tank was cleaned twice a week and he was treated like the king that he was. 2 weeks quickly passed and the honeymoon period soon died when Tornado Little Brother came home.

After a week of being denied any access to Phileep, the brother threw a tantrum and half. Mum gave in (and totally stole my thunder and the once piece of individuality, “I’m not part of this family anymore,” teenage angst.) And he too got a Hermit Crap. Like a French man in thongs there was only one name we could her, Flop. Phileep and Flop became instant friends and shared a bond that surprised everyone. Maybe it was the brother’s constant prodding, poking and racing that made them stick together so tightly? At the end of the day those 2 crabs were inseparable.

The brother had Show and Tell upon his arrival back at school. He was very proud to tell his class of fellow six year olds, “My big sister has crabs! She got one while we were on holidays” As you can imagine, mum was called up to the school to explain that yes, my teenager daughter does have crabs… HERMIT CRABS!

As with all good things, they came to an end. It was a hot January day in 2005 and the brother accidentally left the tank out the back all afternoon. By the time I realised where the tank was, it was too late. Phileep has died of heat exhaustion. That tank was like a mini greenhouse and there was only enough room in the water plate for one crab. Phileep had taken the fall for his beloved Flop. Over the next week as the three of us mourned, Flop became withdrawn and stopped eating. We tried everything, even giving her fresh fruit but it was no good. Flop sadly passed away 8 days later from a broken heart.

I never thought I would cry over a stupid Hermit crab but there was my six year old brother with a motionless shell in his tiny hands. He was shaking and his eyes full of tears. He cried for the whole weekend and refused to burry Flop. We had to sit him down and explain that Flop belonged with Phileep in heaven. Eventually we talked him around to placing Flop in a tiny box and laying him next to Phileep. 2 weeks later I was on the plane to London. I still think back to Phileep and Flop and the impact they had on both my brother and I. for a pair of $5 crabs, they were pretty damn special.

I'll Kill you With a Tray

At work we have a café on our ground floor where you can buy Breakfast/ Lunch/ snack/ teas and coffees etc. People generally buy teas and coffees in bulk for their team. It saves everyone going down and you only have to go down once a week or day depending on what you and your team do. When a 'round' is bought they carry the tea/ coffee back in a cardboard tray device. The café likes to recycle these trays so they ask that you bring them back. People never do.

This where I come in. When I first started I got stupidly sick of find cardboard trays lying around everywhere. One day I flipped and went around the trading floor and collected them all and I took them down to the café. After doing this twice, I realised I was doing other people’s dirty work for nothing so I started asking around what was in it for me.

“If you take 50 down to them they will give you a free tea or coffee. Hardly worth it so everyone throws them away.” One of the traders told me. Granted a cup of tea does only cost 40p from down stairs but that’s 40p I could potentially save! Not that I buy tea down there anyway. 40p is a rip off! I bring my own tea bags in and take my mug down and ask them to fill it with hot water. (Yes I’m that tight but I’d rather have an extra 40p in my purse than pay for a tea I could make myself!)

So since then, I’ve been collecting 50 trays and taking them down for my free cup of tea. I’ve got a bit of reputation for it and people give me a bit of stick. It’s all in good gesture so no need to ring HR over it. But still, I had to show them that it was worth it.

So yesterday, I went down with 100 trays!
“Instead of tea, may I have a muffin today? I bought down 100 trays.”
“You know the rules, I can only give you tea or coffee.”
“Please, I worked so hard to collect all of these!”
“I can’t.”“Fine, I’ll take 50 back and bring them down to tomorrow for a tea then.”
“Are you seriously going to take 50 back upstairs?”
“Are you seriously going to deny the only person in this whole building who return the trays a muffin or at very least a piece of cake?”
“Okay, I’ll give you cake but only this once!”
“Deal.”

So I went back upstairs with my cake and now all those who laughed at me for collecting cardboard trays looked on in envy.

Who ever said you can’t have your cake and eat it too clearly never collected trays!

I'm in a bad mood... don't provoke me, I might bite.

17.06.09
I’m having a bad day today. I’m in a right mood and ready to slice someone’s neck. Now obviously I can’t slice anyone’s neck at work. That would become a 'work place health and safely' issue and also HR would probably get involved. Murder at work would cause extra work for a lot people and I don't want to be hated by the people who pay me. BUT ripping someone on facebook could be the solution I'm looking for.

This girl I have mentioned before in one of my first blogs. She’s not the sharpest crayon in the box and I would be telling porky pies if I said I didn’t get satisfaction in the knowledge that I can out wit her. She's easy pickings and I know I should really pick on someone my own size but it's just so fun!!

So her facebook status read: Woop Woop keep it up boys, almost ova!!

She’s been going on about the Cricket Twenty20 for a while now. She South African and claims she knows all about sport but let's face it the girl can’t even use proper English and only seems to follow the competitions South Africa does well in.

Five minuets later she commented on her status: also want to know y people r booing @ the Twenty20 Games??

I want to know why she can't write the full word?!?! I couldn’t help it, with the mood I’m in, I just had to wind her up. Being South African I knew just where to hit her.

Because it's not real cricket. Bit like 7s, it's not real rugby.

I mean really. She should learn that if I comment on her status it’s generally to provoke her into saying something stupid. like this.

what not real? of course its real!! the 7s is like a small world cup, it only happens every sooo yrs..... If u not into sport u wouldnt understand!!

Now firstly 0 out of 10 for punctuation and grammar and 0 out of 10 for factual information! Secondly, she took the bait and now I can reel her in. I may not be into sport but I’m very good researching the topic I’m debating.

Well obviously it's a real game of cricket (sort of) but the ICC don't count it in the official ranking system. Therefore most people don't give a crap. It's just a bit of a throw about. Think of it as back yard cricket on an international scale! :D

As for 7s... Since 2000 it's been a rolling tournament that happens every year all over the world. Countries GENERALLY (Not always!) have their own 7s team that don't play in normal rugby. So again some people follow but on the whole, it doesn’t mean anything special. Justin loves his rugby just as much as the next South African man, in fact he even when to the London 7s this year. However he came home and said. "It's fun to watch but it's not proper rugby."

I don't follow sport because I think it brings out the worst in people and promotes segregation. I find that there are several nations out there that ruin it for everyone else with their bad sportsman like behaviour.

She didn’t respond. She never does when I open a can of whoop ass. She just deleted it. Shame really…

18.06.09

Update!!! The silly cow really doesn't know when to shut up! she just wrote on my wall: The 7s rugby has been going for ages, since my dad was a wee one. and for the 20 cricket is a world cup, These games r the T20 World cup!! SO YEA ITS VERY VERY IMPORTANT!! I think u r up set because Aussies didnt make it throu this finals.

Wow... where do I start? Do I go with the, 'I hate sport, I'm just winding you up but I'm bored now so piss off'' approach. Or I could go with the 'final bullet to the back of the head' approach.
I choose this!

I didn’t say it was a new thing. You said it only happened ever few years and i corrected you that it is a rolling competition. It has been that way since 2000 when the organisers realised it wasn't a huge money spinner and killed the cup.

As for the cricket, I didn't even know that Australia entered. Like I said, I don't follow sport. With the current state of the world I feel there are more important things that we could be spending money on. And even if I did give a rats about a bunch of over paid men running around chasing a small hard ball, T20 is a competition out on its own. Have a look at the ICC website if you don't believe me. I'm sure the Australian team would rather concentrate their efforts into training for a competition that counts for something. Like I said, T20 is nothing more than backyard cricket on an international field.

Also, throu is spelt with a gh at the end.