Strange Nikolai

not a stormtrooper

Archive for the tag “New Zealand”

What I hate today… coffee cups

I have trouble with takeaway coffee cups. Well, I have trouble with cafe coffee in general. I am a coffee snob, I will freely admit that – but if a place advertises itself as a cafe then they should bloody well know something about coffee. The clue is in the name. But most coffee shops and cafes sell something that tastes like it has been scraped off a busy road and then mixed with scalding hot water (or milk if your prefer).

Not to mention the fucking prices and ridiculous sizes. Do you actually get more coffee when you go from the the tall to the venti or do they just fill it up with more milk. If I wanted a cup of milk I would have bloody asked for a cup of milk. I don’t like milk, but lets not get into that whole shitfight (I’m no coffee “purist” – I use sugar).

You’d think making a coffee without milk would be simpler. Ah, no. That’s where you’d be wrong. The thing about the milk is that it disguises most fuckups you make in grinding, tamping and pulling the coffee (technical terms. Can I be bothered explaining them? Not really… look here ). But to be honest, you don’t have to be that pernickity – it’s not fucking rocket science! Just keep your machine clean and you’ll mostly be ok.

So my drink of choice is a “long black”. This is really something that is only available in New Zealand (and perhaps Australia). Blah blah blah, New Zealand has some of the best coffee in the world (it’s true – I’d rate it third in the world behind Portugal and Italy) blah blah blah. Basically it’s a double espresso with some hot water added, but not as much hot water as an Americano. Often I will get an Americano when I ask for a long black and that really twists my tits. Is it really that different??? YES IT FUCKING IS!! Somewhere in between the two coffee turns from creamy coffee goodness to bitter hot water. (Actually this wikipedia page suggest it may be to do with the order you do things… hmmm… I still like a bit less hot water so 1) it is stronger and 2) it doesn’t spill over the edge and scald you. When I started getting longer hot blacks I learnt to ask for a short long – or a schlong as one of my regular barristas  called it).

Anyway a design fault of the normal coffee paper cups is that if you put hot water in it, the curly brim starts to soften, especially around the vertical seam. And if, as seems to happen a disproportionate number of times (Come on barristas! It’s like you don’t even drink coffee. You should not be allowed to do that job if you don’t drink coffee), the lid is place with the seam facing you as you drink, it will then drip hot scalding coffee on you hand. What. The. Fuck. The paper coffee cup is specifically designed for one fucking purpose. To hold hot drinks, and enable safe drinking. This is one SERIOUS design flaw.

Also I JUST noticed something about me. Have a close look at that lid – there’s a hole for drinking and a tiny hole at the other end to let the air in while you are drinking so that it pours freely. Lately I’ve been getting coffee lids where, when I drink, my giant schnozz of a nose blocks the air intake and creates a vacuum inside the cup, which when suddenly released, causes the coffee to splash up, out of the cup, onto my hands, shirt, face, whatever…. that is my excuse anyway.

By the way, click the image above to link to someone else’s coffee cup blog complaints.

Strangely Nikolai


This is relevant to my interests…


And makes a lot of sense when you remember that the man/clone behind all the masks is originally a Maori. Temuera Morrison. Taking over the galaxy one plate of eggs at a time (this will only be funny for NZers, and maybe not many of them)

What I hate today… black socks

Today I hate black socks. Racist. Who you callin’ a racist? You. Well, me. And you, where you = me. For all youse, where you equals me, I hate you. No I don’t. I hate black socks. Confused? Me too. Maybe I should actually edit my thoughts before spewing them out onto the page…. nah…

Disclaimer: this post may be filled with ramblings that have no connection to your life. Actually, you could replace the words ‘this post’ with ‘this blog’ or ‘my life’ and the statement would still be true.

So why do I hate black socks? Is it some national sports team ala the All Blacks, the Black Ferns, the Black Sticks etc… (or for american peeps Red Sox)? Or is it crazy-young-person-slang for something hateful? No. Actually the Black Socks does refer to the New Zealand softball team but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about socks that are black. If you clicked on those last two links I feel sorry for how boring your life must be. I mean, I would be curious enough to hover over them, but once I saw they were just wikipedia links to “socks” and “black” I wouldn’t go there.

So “Why?” I hear you ask. Why are you hating on hosiery items that do not reflect any light in the visible spectrum? The thing is, it’s often not so much the socks themselves, but all the things they represent, and all of the challenges that come with that. I’m wearing black socks today – I don’t particularly hate this pair of socks, but I do hate some of my pairs of black socks.

This is getting confuzzled. Ok, here are two things I hate. Like really really hate. With a burning passion. Actually, more like things I avoid (with a burning passion). 1) pairing up socks. 2) wearing suits to work. 3) elastic bands that cut in. So if you put all 3 of these two things together you get – black office socks. Which for some reason always have stupidly tight elastic at the top that cuts into your ankle (as an aside, I apparently have huge ankles. Not fat, like cankles. Just ginourmous ankle bones. I can’t comfortably wear roller blades (Oh no!), so I would never survive as a gay man in Los Angeles), and they are impossible to find a match to in the washing basket.

So I’m gradually throwing away my black socks. Why gradually? Why not throw them all out in one go? Well, two reasons. Firstly, I’ve already washed them so that seems like a bit of a waste. And secondly, taking off my socks at the end of a long, hard day (well… a ‘day’. I won’t pretend I work hard. How long have I been writing this blog already? And it’s almost my lunch break…) and throwing them straight in the bin makes me feel like a bit of a rock star. Oh yeah. I can afford to throw my socks out each day. That’s right. I’m fucking gangsta.

And fuck the man for telling me what I can and can’t wear to work! Are you my mummy that you feel the need to dress me? Fuck off bitch, just cos your fashion sense runs to the uptight-power-mad-bitch-who-feels-like-she-has-to-push-people-around-so-they’ll-respect-her-authority (UPMBWFLSHTPPASTRHA – acronym of the week). I’ll wear dress pants, but a jeans style cut. I’ll wear shirts, but funky shirts. I’ll wear leather shoes, but the most sneakery leather shoes I can find. And I’m not going to wear black socks anymore! Oh yeah. I’m starting a revolution.

Colourful socks. How sad is that? I’ve just realised I’m becoming ‘that guy’ in the office.

Strangely Nikolai

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