How do I look?

Eek!

So I have bitten the bullet and changed my blog design. Hmm, and design may indeed be too strong a word. I have sadly discarded those Supre trackies (you know, the ones that everyone has) and I have dared to be bold. Alright this is still a template...but I dared to click on the "Advanced" tab and spend way longer than was necessary hovering over spectrum changes to font colours. I am so a graphic designer right now.

Sigh.

I cunningly timed it to coincide with that little tab to the right...over there (I am pointing) urging you all to make with the comments! **Alas, it is gone now, but there's more info about International Comment Leaving Week here.

So, what do you think *cringes, winces face together in an "I'm not sure" facial gesture*

Please just tell me if it makes you vomit. Oh, and also please tell me if you like it. Actually, please only comment if you are going to say something nice.

I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF A TWO-WEEK WAIT PEOPLE - I AM A DONKEY ON THE EDGE! ("Are we there yet?")

I tell you what else I would love to know is your most irrational pet hate - those things that drive you, and only you, completely insane. Those things that have you ranting to your wide-eyed friends...friends who have one of those eyes on you and the other very squarely on the Yellow Pages under C for Crazy.

Mine? Oh there are so many.

And many of them surround tea. Tea bag tags that break off when you undo them. I am cautious when undoing my tea bags, don't think I have bull-in-a-China-shop hands here. I respect the ritual of tea. But sometimes they come apart. It's the people in the factory in Bangalore who make those teeny tiny staples that are designed to keep that piece of dunking string attached to its little tag of cardboard square or indeed to the actual bag that I worry about. Sharpen up Mr Singh, I hate that shit! I also detest too much milk in my tea - or coffee for that matter. If it happens, my day is ruined. Ruined. I am a DASH of milk, macchiato girl all the way. The worst is trying to explain the concept of a dash to people when ordering. A tiny dash, I say, hoping desperately they have taken that in. Seriously, we are talking millilitres. Even the word dash intimates how LITTLE of the milk I want. You pretty much only say "da..." before trailing off with a whispered "..sh". Be quiet, shhhh, it's just a dash. But no, every single time the milk makes a gaaloop sound as it is sloshed in there. Milk of the dash quantity SHOULD NOT BE SLOOSHING!! Pant. Pant. Rant.

Other completely strange things get my goat also: why knicker manufacturers feel the need to sew, rather tightly too, the paper tag onto the front of the knickers. Ok, so we've got that tag sewn into the back, with the size and washing instructions etc that I personally cut off immediately because I don't want that dangling in my rhymes-with-Jack. Then we have the price tag or Elle Macpherson's face or some other equally-ridiculous tag explaining the science behind the design of this particular pair of knickers hanging off one side; AND THEN we have that third bit SEWN INTO the front. Why? And you basically have to cut a hole in your brand new knickers to get the freaking thing off.

And another thing. Those spare buttons you get when buying a new top.

Why do you take time and effort to store them, only to realise two years later when a button actually falls off that no way could you be assed A) looking for the matching button and B) sewing the little blighter on. You just go out and buy a new top. I mean, let's face it: the type of top that comes with a spare button has not obviously engendered much confidence in its manufacturer. It's not as if Karl Lagerfeld spent $15,000 weaving Unicorn pubes with foetal lamb eyelashes and beading gypsy tears into a gossamer gown only to sell it on Rodeo Drive with a spare button attached, is it? So, my point is, tops of the spare button calibre are likely to have given you change from $20. So if a button falls off - BUY A FREAKING NEW TOP!

Oh and I think we have covered my word nerd phobia of bad spelling, incorrect word usage (especially when done in what is meant to be an arrogant back-answer retort) and/or grammar. Call me a snob if you want people, but correct spelling will save lives. Consider this crucial comma. "Let's eat grandma" or "Let's eat, grandma".
That's all I'm saying (FULL STOP)

Think of your grandma and comment away people! I have given you two very good reasons. Well, I have given you two reasons, I retract any descriptors of their quality.