• About

NiftyFiftyShades

~ Failed Domestic Goddess

NiftyFiftyShades

Monthly Archives: March 2016

Bad Office Etiquette

29 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Etiquette, Humour, lifestyle, work

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Etiquette, funny, midlife, women, work

imageThere is a kitchen area in work, just to the side of the large open plan office. On the counter top, you always find sundries, a large box of free fruit which is delivered daily, tea , coffee, sugar etc., charity collection boxes and occasionally, people leave free things. Magazines they’ve read, maybe a book or some such thing.

Last week, someone left a free nasal spray. It had a yellow sticker beside it saying ‘free – help yourself’. Not a new unused spray in a box, but a half used nasal spray. The questionable hygiene habits of some of my colleagues has always perplexed me, but a pre-loved nasal spray?? Who could have imagined such generosity existed in our midst.

Since then, the good people I work with have embraced this notion of sharing half used items. Yesterday morning, a half chewed packet of Halls menthol lozenges appeared, with the obligatory ‘free – help yourself – use sensibly’.  In the afternoon, a half packet of tissues (actually cut in half).

What started out as a kind gesture, however questionable by the mystery nasal spray doner, has turned into an epic free for all of sharing half consumed items. I’ve decided to join in the frenzy of caring and sharing. My dilemma, I can’t decide whether to leave half a Q-tip or some left over corn plasters.

 

Office etiquette, the do’s and dont’s may be tricky to navigate. Riddled with pitfalls, office etiquette can see a perfectly nice day descend into nightmare.

I think it’s time to reveal Nifty’s guide to surviving the office.

When the CEO deigns to visit your office, hang on his every word nodding in agreement.  Bask in the glow of his greatness, in manner of North Korean peasant in the presence of Kim Jong Un.  Long may his wisdom continue to shine a light on your life. Flattery will get you everywhere including that next promotion.

image

 

image

 

Never chew gum.  Ghastly habit.  May lead to blowing bubbles and therefore the complete disintegration of civilised society.

 

 

 

image

 

Practice extreme health and safety. Insist on wearing protective goggles when using a stapler, a punch or indeed any office accoutrements.

 

 

funny-personalhygiene1Personal hygiene is of the utmost importance.  If a colleague has his/her own personal pungent fragrance, he/she must be told in no uncertain terms to wash.

 

funn-personalhygiene

You may need to send an anonymous Deodorgram.  Have a message included with the gift, the most popular one is (according to the manufacturers)“You’ve always been such a cute little stinker, now you can just be cute and little! Please enjoy this hard working natural deodorant sent to you from a caring friend”.

Deodorgrams-550x270

 

Do not put used coffee beans down the kitchen sink. This caused enormous problems in our office building, leading to what we now commonly refer to as ‘the great smell of 2014’.

Avoid sleezy comments. “Come into my office Miss Jones, I need you to take something down”.  The use of the double entendre is perfectly acceptable at smart dinner parties, but knowing when to use shows nuance and versatility.

imageEnsure your desk is a disorganised mess.  Colleagues will fear cross contamination and leave you in peace.

 

image

 

 

Always dress impeccably, casual Friday is all very well for the great unwashed, but to a domestic Goddess it means donning your Hermes scarf and Jimmy Choos.   Remember, you are of a higher station, an inspiration to all and standards must be maintained.

image

Ensure the intern understands the pecking order.

image

Ahh!! Easter Eggs

23 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Humour, lifestyle, parenting, Personal stuff

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

easter, family, funny

eggsnailsEaster eggs, who could have imagined these sweet treats could have inspired such rivalry.

The ultimate test of supremacy, the definitive battle of sibling willpower and psychological warfare.

Each year, the Easter egg selection would be presented to us a week before the big day.  My aunt worked in Cadbury’s on the north side of Dublin where she had access to staff discount.  The best perk of the job, a shop for staff each Friday where they offloaded bargain chocolate, broken bars, squashed sweets.  A sweet was a sweet, all delicious whether squashed or misshapen.  My nine year old self had lofty aspirations of working in Cadbury’s when I grew up.

Cadbury's Celebrate Creme Egg Season In Covent Garden With The Goo GamesThe weekend before Easter she would bring the goodies.  With a selection of Buttons, Roses, Flake or Milk Tray eggs on offer we would surround her claiming ‘first pick’.    Placed on display like a prized ornament they would adorn the shelf to be admired for a week.  Only after mass on Sunday morning could they be opened.  Very carefully (as the silver paper was to be saved) I would skilfully remove the foil, scoff the back of the egg, replace the foil so that it looked intact, untouched.  This was all part of my game plan.  The prize in this game of psychological warfare was to lord it over everyone else when you were the only family member with remaining chocolate.  That done, the egg would be returned to the shelf to be admired again.   After a couple of hours, myself and my sister would eye each other to see who would last the longest before returning for another bite of the cherry.  If she gave in, I’d allow myself another piece.  The egg at this stage no longer looked untouched, nevertheless it would be put back together again, returned to the shelf to be admired and the test of willpower would resume.  Back and forth, taking smaller nibbles each time.  Eventually, there would be a small piece left and I would sigh and declare “I’m sick of chocolate, I’m saving some for tomorrow”.   This was obviously part of the act, it never lasted until tomorrow.

eggs-funny1My brother always won this game. He was the undisputed king of self denial.  He always had a piece left the next day so that he could wave it in front of us, taking smug to a whole new level.   “Mmmm, don’t tell me yours is all gone”.

 

eggsfunny

image
image
eggnails2

 

 

Nifty Pick Me Ups

21 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Beauty, Etiquette, Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

family, funny, midlife

imageEven a Domestic Goddesses can have an off day when her crown slips. Never fear, Nifty is here with her top 10 tips, a few pearls of wisdom to restore your good spirits.

A word of warning, you may need to switch off your brain before reading.

 

 

 

 

image1. Take up a new hobby.   Make diminutive rocking chairs from clothes pegs.  Keep making until you have a whole peggy forest of rocking chairs.  Be careful not to show your new hobby to family members as they may insist on you being institutionalised.

 

 

 

2. Buy a new cushion. The value and status a good cushion adds to your homestead cannot be overstated. If I am ever to divorce, the quantity of cushions in my abode may be the subject of proceedings. Himself threatens to leave if I bring another single cushion into the house.

imageI don’t understand this aversion. A good quality feather stuffed cushion will add warmth and style to your sofa and what else can bring a room together like a well placed cushion. What’s not to love?. If your loved one complains, threaten to replace him with a cushion if he’s not careful.

It’s a universal truth that cushions are a woman’s best friend, not diamonds.

image

image

 

 

 

 

 

3. Tea in bed. The restorative benefits of a cup of tea in bed should not be underestimated. For a weekend treat I request Figment my butler bring  the morning edition, crisp, clean and freshly ironed.

 

image.jpeg4. challenge your verbal skills.  Imaging lines that Elizabeth Bennett would deliver to Mr. Darcy in your remake of Pride and Prejudice. “Mr. Darcy, I am undone….”.  Use words like ‘esteemed’,’tolerable’,’piano forte’ or ‘accomplished’.

 

image5. Buy some new accessories. Accessories doth make’th the woman. It’s so difficult to find a good craftsman to restring your pearls. Buy some fake ones which will do for everyday wear. Teamed with your Hermes scarf (a must for any woman of consequence) no one will know the difference.

 

 

 

6. Eat something yummy. If you don’t have quail eggs to hand, Walnut Whips never fail to offer 100% satisfaction.

 

imageBefore

7. Be Fabulous. Sometimes is easy to forget just how fabulous you are. Get grooming, primping, preening, crimping, polishing, de-fuzzing, tweezing, plucking or what ever it takes.  Arm yourself with the tools of the beauty trade and return yourself to a state of fabulousness.

imageAfter

 

image
image

Try something new when it comes to nails.

 

image8. Write a blog. My favourite thing of all, researching (yeah right!!) content for my blog. Not only great fun, but an excuse for everything. You’re not having a lie in on a Sunday morning, you’re researching your blog. Your late for something, you can say you’re carrying out crucial research for your blog. There’s no slippers and newspaper at the ready when your loved one comes home, again, essential blog research the culprit.

image

9. What list of pick-me-ups would be complete without a picture of Gorgeous George (an excuse to include a picture of him).

 

 

10. If all this fails there is always wine!

image

 

Ugly Knee Syndrome

18 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Personal stuff, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Fashion, funny, Knees, midlife, women

Ugly Knees anyone?

imageDon’t feel too bad, you’re in good company. A host of celebrities have been outed as suffering from the same affliction.

I have bad knees. Bad as in ugly, not bad as in painful, which is something to be grateful for, I think. Have knees the size of Edam cheese rolls. I’d win any knobbly knees competition hands down.

 

imageThey were fine when I was twenty, but sadly have been in decline for some years now. I recently tried on a pair of boots which were tight around the calf. Beautiful rich soft suede leather with 4 inch heels, fit like a glove and very comfortable. Ecstatic at my find, I stepped over to the mirror to admire my choice of footwear. It was at that very moment I caught a glimpse of knee overflow. The tight calf’s seemed to compound this situation. My euphoria was short lived. I had what resembled a case of severe cellulite dimpling in the knee area. The white skin served only to highlight my ugly joint syndrome or Age Related Knee Deterioration which is I think the medical term. I don’t carry excess weight anywhere else(possibly deluded as well) so why God did you have to pick on the knees.

imageI’ve tried wearing ultra support tights popular with grannies everywhere. I’ve attempted fake tanning them to death leading to epic fake tan fail and orange hands. Exercise in the form of weights and cycling, I’m convinced made them worse. Massage, cabbage water diet, all to no avail. A friend has suggested contouring.  I’m not prepared to set aside 3 hours daily for knee painting.

What to do? Cover them up.

Me: “Have knees the size of Edam cheese rolls”.

Himself: “They’re fine, here have a glass of wine”

Me: “Ok, much better, knees aren’t so bad”

 

imageI have become accustomed to keeping them under wraps. I’m not concerned in the least. My knobbles will never see light of day again. My trendy skinny jeans will never give away my secrets.

 

I could resort to knobbly knee surgery but even I’m not that bonkers. I’ve resigned myself to looking forward to a future of age related knee deterioration, with possibly the added bonus of varicose veins.

 

It could be worse I suppose, I have a bit to go before I reach this stage.

image

For the purposes of making you feel better about your knees, I’m including photos of celebrity knees courtesy of The Daily Mail. A little cruel ( I know I feel a tinchy bit guilty). ..Enjoy!!

image

image
image
image

Nifty Things To Do With Tights

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Humour, lifestyle, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

family, Fashion, funny, midlife, women

imageTime to get those legs out. The glossy magazines have declared it so.

Time to banish the tights. Never mind that your legs are so white they’re purple. The glossies have spoken.

I hate tights. There, I’ve said it. Tights are the root of all evil. The spawn of the devil. I use the word hate here. I developed a tight phobia at an early age. Thick woolly tights were enforced on me as a child, leading to a lifelong fear of the word.

 

imageI never had a pair that fit. As one of six girls, the tights drawer was a mix of colours and sizes, you grabbed a pair while rushing to get ready for school. It was pot luck. We were all different sizes and ages, so you either ended up with a pair that were too small, which resulted in the gusset around your knees, or a pair too big, which resulted in the gusset around your knees. Either way, you ended up with a penguin like walk. Actually too small is slightly better as too big also resulted in the wrinkled folds drooping around the ankles. The Nora Batty look. No wonder I’m psychologically scarred.

image

imageI’m not suggesting you throw away said tights, rather find other uses for them. Remember, thriftiness is next to Godliness. Tights have many uses. I’ve put together a few suggestions.

De-frizz your hair. A work colleague gave me this tip many years ago and it has stood me in good stead. After washing and drying hair, pop a pair of tights on your head to keep your tresses smooth and sleek. I’m not kidding, this works.

 

 

imageGeography lesson. When you need to tell the difference between stalactites and stalagmites. Tights always hang down.

imageStraining fruit. When you’re not wearing your tights in Summer, use them to make raspberry coulis. Place fruit in the gusset, squeeze out the juice for a delicious raspberry concentrate. Use the juice to make cordial, coulis or drink it straight.

 

 

image.jpegDraughts. Stuff the legs with newspaper and tie off to make draught excluders to sit at the base of a draughty door.

imageDisguise. I’m always promoting thriftiness. You can’t get more thrifty than holding up a bank. Pop a pair or tights on your head and you have the look. You’re half way there.

Garden ties. Useful in the garden as ties for climbing vegetables or plants, or for supporting large vegetables as they grow, like marrows or melons.

 

 

imageWrinkle-free gift wrap storage: Store rolls of gift wrap paper in old tights, one roll per leg. and hang them in your wardrobe to keep paper neat and crease free.

Special photo effects: Stretch tights over your camera lens to give photos a starburst or muted effect. (Just remember to take them off before you try this.)

imageLove: Give them to your loved one to wear under his trousers in the colder months. He’ll thank you for it when he’s pottering around the garage! Especially if it’s your old woolly ones!

 

 

 

 

 

image
image
image
image
image
image

Paddy’s Day and All That Malarkey

12 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Drink, Humour, lifestyle, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Drink, family, parenting

image.jpegAhh!! St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin

A grand occasion, despite the proliferation of teenagers dressed as leprechauns and green pints of Guinness.

image.jpegWhen I was ten, St Patrick was a hero, the reason we had a day off school. The only downside was that it was a holy day of obligation which meant mass was required.

 

It would all kick off a few days beforehand with the annual festival of destroying the sitting room sofa with glue and green paint.  The St.Patrick’s day badge would have to be made, along with flags, bunting and fairy cakes with green icing. All a waste of time as the home made cardboard badge would be cast aside. A tacky foil badge would have to be bought in its place.

 

image

Not only was it a break from the clutches of The Little Sisters of Psychological Warfare, it was also a welcome reprieve from the torture of lent, where you gave up sweets for 40 days and 40 nights. On St. Patrick’s day you were allowed take a day off and indulge in as much sugary crap you had accumulated in your stash since the start of Lent on Ash Wednesday.

image

 

 

The day before, we would be sent out into the garden with a fork from the cutlery drawer to find the elusive shamrock. You might find one single shamrock leaf but dig up a huge sod to extract it from the ground. The muddy shamrock sod would be brought in and left soaking in a dish of water to keep the roots moist. The shamrock was for my Dad, who was to be pitied as he was clearly too old to wear a badge.

image.jpeg

The morning of St Patricks day, all set for mass, I’d insist on my Dad pinning the mucky soggy shamrock sod to his lapels, ruining his good Sunday jacket.

imageThe parade was pretty sad by today’s standards.  A procession of floats from local businesses and brass bands but the party atmosphere was always the draw.   Somehow we’d  manage to wiggle your way up to the front to get a look at the American cheerleaders who we thought were beyond fabulous.  I would feel so sorry for them with their dazzling white smiles, freezing their butts off in star spangled outfits which showed way too much leg for our Artic temperatures. We were toasty in our newly knitted Aran sweaters.

image.jpegThis tradition, I repeated with my own kids when they were small, including sending them into the garden to find the shamrock. (I didn’t knit new Aran jumpers for them, even I’m not that perfect. My mother, their grandmother did).

imageIn fairness, they kept their side of the bargain with the desecration of the sitting room sofa, and the destruction of the kitchen with green gunge.

image

 

In recent years, rather than negotiate the throngs at the parade, I head to Merrion Square to watch the floats setting up. It’s become a much grander affair, with spectacular fireworks, the river Liffey turns green, jigs  and reels in Merrion Square and amusement rides to entertain the masses. Pubs are packed to the gills, throngs spilling out into the streets where you’re guaranteed to have ‘the craic’.

 

imageimage

image

image.jpeg

 

Let’s Pretend it’s Summer

09 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Beauty, food, Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Drink, funny, midlife, Summer, women

 

 

image.jpegLets Pretend it’s Summer

If raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens don’t do it for you, try one of my favourite things to put a spring in your step.

imagePretend it’s Summer. Living on an island where it rains for 365 days a year, any respite from the grey clouds, any glimpse of blue sky must be celebrated by stepping out and making the most of it. If by some freak of nature, we manage to get a couple of sunny days in the ‘Summer’ as a nation we join in the fun and frolics talking endlessly about picnics and sunburn. Sales of shorts and sun tops soar regardless of the fact that you will only get to wear them once.

 

imageEver the optimist, I recommend that you do a I do, join in the frenzy of buying barbeques, straw hats, beach umbrellas, factor 50 sun screen. If by the time you arrive home with your treasures the sun has disappeared (which is highly likely) you may have to play the lets pretend game. Follow these instructions and I guarantee satisfaction. You will be transported from your dull cloudy day to a tropical South Seas beach.

image

Switch on the central heating and parade around the house in shorts and flip-flops as you would on a rare sweltering July day. The beauty of this is that you can try this any time of year. March is the perfect time as by now you’re sick to death of the endless days of deluge.

imageGet out your old Wham records and sing along to Club Tropicana.

Relax on your sun lounger(which you’ve brought indoors).

 

Browse holiday brochures while waiting on fake tan to dry

 

 

 

imageSip homemade lemonade, suck on a cool pop or better still, have Himself bring you a Pimms on Ice. I find the alcohol encourages enthusiastic participation in this little role play.

 

 

 

imageWhile lounging back, have Your loved one (dressed in a toga obviously) drop grapes into your mouth.

Complain about the stifling heat, as it wouldn’t be real if we didn’t complain about something.

image

Get some sand from the beach and place it in a icing sugar shaker. When you are eating your sandwiches, shake a little sand over them for that authentic crunchy taste you only get on a beach picnic.

imageComplain about the sand in your sandwiches.

Burn a few coconut scented candles to add a tropical feel to your little beach hideaway.

image

If by this time you haven’t embraced your inner beach Goddess, finish the bottle of Pimms, that should transport you to another dimension.

image

Mother’s Day. How to milk it

07 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

imageMother’s Day, or Hallmark Day as I call it.  A celebration for domestic Goddesses across the globe.  Although I’ve always been a bit cynical about these special occasions, I wouldn’t let that get in the way of milking it for all its worth.   If your loved ones ask what you want for Mother’s Day, smile sweetly and reply something along the lines of  “Oh nothing, don’t go to any expense on my account, it’s the thought that counts”.

Obviously that’s not the case, but no woman of good standing should have to spell it out.  Its unbecoming to appear greedy.  But let’s be clear about this,  Mother’s Day is a matter of the utmost gravity, bragging rights are at stake.  You have to ensure that your friends children don’t outshine your own.   A few subtle hints should do the trick if you have daughters.  Remember daughters are the domestic Goddesses of the future and are quick to pick up on the merest glance in the direction of a florist or beauty salon and they know exactly what you want.   Sons are a different matter, you need to lay it on thick and heavy.

imageWhile my little cherubs are practically perfect in every way(obviously they take after me) they do sometimes need a little nudge to ensure they honour this momentous occasion.

Follow my advice and I guarantee 100% satisfaction in the Mother’s Day stakes.

Ideally, you should begin your Mother’s day campaign a week before the day itself, for maximum benefit.  It’s all very well getting a handmade card when the kids are little, but when they’re older and still living at home, it’s payback time.

Firstly, make sure they don’t forget. Surreptitiously put  reminders in their phones to ensure they are reminded every day in the run up to the day itself.

image.pngStart off with a healthy dose of guilt.  Cheerfully regale them with tales of nappy changing, sleepless nights and chauffeuring duties.  It helps lay the groundwork for the onslaught to follow.

imageReminisce about how devoted a daughter you were to your own mother on Mother’s day.  How you brought her breakfast in bed, on a tray with the morning paper (ironed of course).   Tell of the warm glow you were rewarded with from giving on Mother’s day.

Leave brochures lying about the house for local beauty salons.  Pick one up, read out loud the list of treatments, then let it drop to the floor with a wistful sigh.

Talk about how wonderful the last hotel break you had was because you didn’t have to do any housework or cook.   Sigh “ Imagine, a whole day of no cooking ”.

Say repeatedly while watching TV “TV is brutal these days, I wish I had a good book, that new Grisham novel or something”.

Say  repeatedly  while watching TV “Do you know what I’d fancy now, a huge Walnut Whip”.  A box of Walnut Whips is actually my favourite Mother’s day present.

SONY DSC

SONY DSC

“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?” — Milton Berle

 

“The quickest way for a mother to get her children’s attention is to sit down and look comfortable.”

 

“Mothers are all slightly insane.” — J.D. Salinger

 

“Call your mother and say something nice! And remember that its your fault that she pees a little every time she sneezes. Love and sacrifice!”

 

“Don’t forget to pick up a bottle of wine for your Mom for Mother’s Day. After all, you’re one of the reasons she drinks.”

 

“My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.” — Tim Allen

 

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.” — Jack Nicholson

 

“Don’t forget Mother’s Day. Or as they call it in Beverly Hills, ‘Dad’s trophy wife day.’” — Jay Leno

 

“Dear Mother-in-Law: I don’t need you to teach me how to handle my children. I live with one of yours, and he needs a lot of improvement!”

 

 

 

Ahh!!The Eighties Blockbuster

04 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Books, Humour, Midlife

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Books

imageAhh!! The Eighties Blockbuster

As its national book day, I feel a bookish theme coming on for my blog.  Also, a challenge from a fellow blogger to use the word ‘library’ in a story.

imageMy expertise in the book department extends to the fact that I read.  Growing up, there was no shortage of books left lying around the house by my five older sisters.  They were well thumbed, in fact probably diseased by the time I got them.  It would take more than a few congealed crumbs or tea stained pages to put me off.  A large portion of the books adorning our shelves were old fashioned, but I didn’t care.  Swallows and Amazons, Just William, mouldy books that had been stuck on the shelf for years, I’d read them anyway, when I’d finished the Jackie.

Our local library in Raheny was too far away and I wasn’t allowed go there alone which really pissed me off.  A day I remember clearly, when I was about 9 years old,  a big lorry rolled up our street, the mobile library had arrived.  Delight all round at this momentous event.   Every kid in the neighbourhood wanted to have a poke around it, even the ones who had no interest in reading.  God help us, excitement was a bit thin on the ground back then.  It wouldn’t happen today, kids today getting excited about a tiny library.   And it was tiny.  It arrived every Wednesday for two hours.  You had to get there early to find a good one.  I remember a series of books called ‘The Bobbsey Twins’.  They were in great demand, and if you found one you held on to it, you daren’t put it down or it would be snapped up.  ‘The Bobbsey Twins on Blueberry Island’ was my favourite, I read it many times over.  For some reason most other books were set in English schools, whereas the Bobbsey’s lived in America.  Exactly like the Brady Bunch and it doesn’t get more exotic that that (even now I want an Alice).  My sister and I would get in the queue early and once inside, I’d start at one end and she’d take the other and we’d scour the shelves for any sighting of a Bobbsie Twin.

imageThere was a library in school which we wouldn’t be caught dead in due to the overly religious theme to all of the books, beyond boring as all the characters had halos.

But then came…

imageThe eighties blockbusters novels.  Passed around to all and sundry.  While there wasn’t as much choice, at least this meant that everybody read the same books and you could discuss and dissect with your friends the finer details of the predictable plots which were without exception driven by lust, love and revenge.  Always formulaic, innocent girl (beautiful of course) meets powerful hero, throw in a quirky friend and a slimey playboy called Dimitri.

We devoured those books.  I’ve no doubt I enjoyed the reading experience more back then.  I don’t think there was a girl in the office who hadn’t read Jilly Cooper, ‘Riders’ and ‘Rivals’, Sidney Sheldons ‘The Other Side of Midnight’ and a series of books the first of which was ‘Flowers in the Attic’.  Jackie Collins was standard issue and of course Shirley Conran if you wanted to be considered a woman of substance.

A few years ago I did attempt writing my epic novel.  I quickly realised how difficult a challenge I’d set myself and promptly changed tack, deciding that my writing skills more suited to chick lit, that I should stop deluding myself that I had any writing talent.  As it turned out, my effort at chick lit didn’t make the grade either.  My manuscript returned to me covered in scribbles outlining exactly where my rags to riches tale of intrigue failed (thank God it never saw the light of day as I’d hate to put my name to such God-awful drivel – even worse than my blog).

And so, I credit The Bobbsie Twins and the mobile library with giving me an appreciation of the written word.

imageWhere would any domestic Goddess be without a good book to lend a touch of fantasy to her hum drum existence.

 

 

 

What Your Coffee Says About You

03 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in food, Humour, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Coffee, food, funny, midlife, women

imageI’ve just discovered the earth shattering truth that whole milk is less fattening than the skimmed variety. Something to do with the way sugars are absorbed. All these years of deprivation for nothing. In light of this revelation I may even change my morning Americano for a Latte. This seismic change to my routine makes me question everything. After all, your choice of coffee speaks volumes about who you are.

What your coffee says about you.

Cappachino

imageYou are deeply shallow. You probably also like to wear labels emblazoned across your chest. FCUK t-shirts and Burbury handbags. If you are travelling in Italy, never order a cappachino in the afternoon. This is exclusively a morning beverage, and drinking it at any other time would be considered both ignorant and tacky. According to research carried out by the Irish Coffee Council, you are a people pleaser. However, the upside is that shallowness is not necessarily a personality flaw. Being of a shallow disposition myself, I cannot cast aspersions on those of you who are like minded.

Tripple Espresso.

imageThe manly kind of coffee. You like to hit your woman over the head with a club and drag her back to your den to make your espresso for you. If you are a straight woman ordering a tripple espresso, you may want question your sexuality.

Instant Coffee.

image.pngThe type favoured by tradesmen. A mug of Nescafe and an all-day breakfast roll is your only man.

 

 

Cup of coffee.

What’s that? The cup of coffee officially became extinct in 1974. A pensioner in a coffee shop could be forgiven for thinking that he’s been transported to a foreign land. The Eastern European barista (bless him) doesn’t understand what a cup of coffee is, he’s way too young to remember and anyway it’s not on the board. The pensioner thinks the Frappuchino and the Macchiato are something performed on Strictly Come Dancing.

Skinny Latte.

The sole preserve of the yummy mummy. You like to get a skinny latte to go, sipping it in your Land Rover while waiting for the kids to come out of school.

Americano.

imageYou are the cautious, pragmatic type. A deep fear of foam moustaches prevents you from ordering what you really want, a Frappuccino.

 

 

Decaf.

imageDecaf lovers are subversives. They like nothing more than a good protest. Can been marching with placards saying ‘Down with that sort of thing’. Along with vegans and fruitarians, the decaf brigade should be rounded up and transported to Van Demons land for crimes against civilised society.

Macchiato.

You place style above substance. The macchiato is enjoyed by hipsters and the terminally naff alike. You may actually prefer a nice cup of tea but that wouldn’t fit well with your image.

image

← Older posts

Categories

  • Beauty
  • Books
  • Drink
  • Education
  • Etiquette
  • Fashion
  • food
  • Hair
  • Health
  • Housework
  • Humour
  • lifestyle
  • Midlife
  • parenting
  • Personal stuff
  • Shopping
  • Sport
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • work

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 110 other followers

Instagram

No Instagram images were found.

Some posts

  • April 2017
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015

niftyfiftyshades

niftyfiftyshades
Follow NiftyFiftyShades on WordPress.com

Nifty

Read about my failings as I muddle through midlife

Blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • NiftyFiftyShades
    • Join 110 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • NiftyFiftyShades
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...