One of the many ways I’m not jiving with the zeitgeist*: Pumpkin spice lattes. I really don’t understand this. I like pumpkin. I like coffee. I don’t want my coffee to taste of pumpkin. My coffee is for tasting like coffee alone. Rarely, I will have a latte, and, when I do, I cinnamonise it, but pumpkin? Nutmeg? Cloves? No stank you. Especially not for $5+.
But then, I never liked the McRib either. To each his own, seasonal food-wise.
I conquered my fear of baby shopping and got some cute thing, only one of which features pink; but it’s more Never Mind the Bollocks than Barbie’s Corvette**. But not before flying into a rage over this monstrosity. It’s not even just a ‘waiting for a rich husband’thing, but it gets into the whole blood diamond/third world human rights question. It’s bad enough that I bought children’s clothes that might have been made by children – there are no labels guaranteeing that anywhere, except at American Apparel, which I boycott for other reasons.
Agh, shopping is so fraught with complications that the pressure was outweighing my (only occasional, luckily) Spinster Inferiority Complex and Generalized Poorness Anxiety.
I was up for about 90 minutes in the middle of the night, so I am either going to have a nap or a really, really gigantic coffee right about now.
*If anyone wants to draw a cartoon of that, I would be delighted.
** Okay, FINE, it’s awfully close to a frequently used Barbie pink too. I’m putting a bird on it. The other twin is getting an equally violent orange one.