CupCate.com

Thanks, Moms! You're raising a generation of assholes...

Currently I'm sat in a Starbucks in the suburbs of London, trying my best to get some work done.

However, it's getting rather difficult to concentrate when there are numerous screeching children surrounding me. I'm by no means saying that women with children should stay home. I'm not saying that they should stay out of Starbucks.

What I am saying, is that I'm pretty sure that when I was 3, if I were shrieking at the top of my lungs, my mom wouldn't simply be cooing, "Cate, shhhh. Please don't scream like that, darling," at me each time I opened my mouth to release a sound that can only be compared to the noise mating foxes make.

May I also just point out real quick that I paid attention to how many women with strollers walked by the window where I was sitting for a half hour. Do you want to know how many I saw? 37. Most of these women actually came into Starbucks. But I digress.

Obviously, I'm not a parent.

I don't know what it's like to raise a child, or to discipline a child. The only point of reference I have is how my mom raised me, and I can tell you, if I were screaming or throwing a tantrum anywhere in public, I would have been dragged to the car and taken home immediately.

I can hear all the mothers shouting that "since I'm so fucking smart" maybe I should give them some advice on how I would get a screaming child to stop, and to be honest, I don't have the answer. (Aside from things that will end up with you going to prison, or your children being taken away from you...)

All I do know, is that cooing and and asking a child to please stop screaming in the same tone you'd ask someone to please pass the popcorn in the movie theaters is pointless. Obviously, it's not working, as still this child is screaming.

An hour ago there was another mum just letting her 2-year-old-ish- daughter stand directly in front of the door of Starbucks and hang on the door handle. Fortunately for Mumsy, the only people coming in this shop at the moment are other mothers who just stand outside the shop making "OMG HOW CUTE ARE YOU!?!" faces at the kid blocking the doorway.

Again, I'm pretty sure my mom would have made me sit in my chair quietly. Maybe I would be coloring. Maybe I would be looking at a picture book. Perhaps eating boogers. All I know is that I wouldn't have been dangling from the door handle of a busy coffee house. All it would take would be for one person to not be looking below eye level, push the door open, and the kid would be on it's ass, and potentially smack it's head on the tile floor. SAFE, NON?

Was there some amazing parental movement in the '80s where parents actually believed it was okay to raise their voice at their children so that they wouldn't act like assholes in public? Did Sesame Street and Mr. Rodger's Neighborhood send us subliminal messages like:

"You will fear your parents authority"

or

"You will not scream like a wild banshee in public"

 Did Fraggle Rock teach us to shudder in fear at the idea of a time-out?

Maybe I was just a better behaved kid than the ones in this Starbucks. Maybe it was easier for my parents to threaten me with 'GOING BACK TO THE CAR RIGHT THIS INSTANT IF YOU DON'T BEHAVE' because I actually feared them and the authority they had over me.

But what does it say if every child of the 2-5 age range that comes in this shop clearly has no regard for it's parent's discipline?

(Currently, the screaming child is screeching "BOW BOW BOW bow bow BOW BOW BAH BAB BAH BAH BAH EYA YAYAAAAAAAAA" in a voice so shrill I'm pretty sure it would turn all the teenagers within a 5 miles of this cafe to mist. The mother's reaction? "Matt. Please. Shhhhh. Shhh...Please don't scream." Did I mention she was using a voice more suitable for the Hail Mary?)

Sure, there's a chance that you can check back in on me in 10 years or so if I decide have kids, and maybe I'll be the asshole mom who lets my kid tear around a coffee shop and scream bloody murder because:

a) I have a latte and The Guardian and get to play adult for a half hour, to hell with the studying University students' peace and quiet, THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE.

b) I have a latte and The Guardian and am so happy to be out of the house and around adults that I don't even hear my kid screaming.

...but I doubt it.

"Highly proficient in Camel Toe, excels at Muffin Top"

I spent my morning trying on a vast amount clothes and staring at my pale, naked body under the unforgiving light of many a high street changing room.

It is because of this that I believe from now on, on CSI when they find a female suicide 'vic', the first question they should ask is, "Has she been shopping recently? Had she been trying on clothes?" because holy jesus, I was about to take a nap on the freeway this afternoon.

What is it about trying on clothes that suddenly makes eating disorders seem so plausible? Like,

"Yup. Never eating again. Sounds good. Should I just drink protein shakes and eat paper for the rest of my life? Why not! It would mean I could probably find some fucking clothes to wear."

Is it just me that feels like a disproportionate slob every time I go shopping for new clothes?

Do clothing companies have a deal with Slim Fast that they'll keep making horribly shaped, inaccurately sized clothing as long as it keeps women hating themselves so much they'll do nothing but drink chocolate-dung flavored "milkshakes" in order to lose weight?

What the fuck is up with clothes!?!!

Is it so unnatural to have some fucking junk in the trunk? Aren't women supposed to have hips? Am I not allowed to have any fat on my stomach?!

Anti Size Zero my fat fucking ass, man.

I consider myself to be pretty level headed. I feel pretty good about myself and have been trying hard to carefully balance wanting to lose weight and feel better about myself and not going into Crazy Diet Land where I start keeping a food diary and denying myself everything that is good in life.

But there is something about buying new clothes that sends me into a really dark, horrible place.

There is something about a changing room mirror and a stack of trousers in three different sizes (none of which that fit) that makes me want to violently punch the girl in the stall next to me that's whining that "THESE 10's ARE JUST, LIKE, FALLING OFF ME!" in the face...and then go eat a whole pizza by myself. And a milkshake. And a cheeseburger from McDonalds.

...and a Frappuccino. (Or 8.)

I'm not just trying to be a Drama Queen. I'm not even making this all up for the sake of writing a funny post. I was seriously at my wits end today.

The reasonably "business" type clothing that's available for women to buy is pure and utter CRAP.

What is that material that they use? That sparkly, itchy, crunchy black shit! It's horrible!

I couldn't find ONE pair of black dress pants to buy. Not one. Why? Because they look horrific on me.

They made me look like I have a BA in CAMEL TOE. Never mind the weird way that they manage to clasp really high on my waist, push all my love handle and lower stomach fat up so that I have the most prolific Muffin Top of all time - WHY THE CAMEL TOE?! Isn't a Muffin Top enough to make me want to stop eating anything but Special K?

Do Muffin Top and Camel Toe scream, "Hello. I am a highly successful business woman."

NO. They scream MONS PUBIS and NOT A FAN OF WORKING OUT.

Do you want to know how many shops I went into today? 10

How many pairs of pants did I try on?  10-13

How many tops? 4

And which store do you think I ended up buying something in? Oh yes, the first fucking store I went into. Why I just didn't stay there and look a bit harder and try on a few more outfits I will never comprehend.

And the annoying part is, I ALWAYS DO THIS!!!

I'll find what I want straight away, then waste 2 more hours of my time wandering around trying on ill fitting pants for the off chance I'll find something cheaper/better/faster/stronger.

This, let me tell you, rarely happens.

I opted for a skirt, a nice blouse, and a black cardigan. I'm not terribly excited about the outfit, but it looks really nice on, and I won't have to worry about Camel Toe.

Not having to worry about Camel Toe is all I can ask for, really...

LeendaDLL is the breast!

On Saturday morning I was greeted with this beautiful care package from the ever fabulous LeendaDLL.

Obviously, LeendaDLL knows everything that is important to me in life: greeting cards with cupakes and cute dogs; Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing (in cups, and in a bottle); Girl Scout Cookies in both Thin Mint and Peanut Butter flavors and Lucky Charms for Iain. (I've also been sharing my cookies with him. And the Ranch. I'm not that selfish.)

And let us not forget...

Cupcake magnets.

LeendaDLL, you made my day, my weekend, and quite possibly my whole month. Thank you so much! Goodies from the UK will be on their way to you shortly!

Every time I dip a slice of pizza into a Ranch Cup, retrieve a Thin Mint from the freezer, and smell Lucky Charms on Iain's breath, I'll think of you.

Dear Mozilla, Microsoft and Six Apart...

Dear Mozilla, Microsoft and Six Apart,

I am a big fan of yours. Really, I am.

However, when I'm using either Firefox,  Movable Type, Vox, and Vista, somehow, someway, if I go to upload a photo, Firefox crashes and burns.

Considering Movable Type has that nifty "auto save" feature and recovers lost content, I never really lose a post while I'm using it - especially considering Firefox has the "restore session" button when it suddenly closes without warning.

However, Vox's "recover" option does not work as well as Movable Type's and did not recover the correct content when I went to upload a photo on Vox and Firefox suddenly closed.

I selected the "restore session" option and waited patiently for Vox to recover my post...but no. It simply reverted back to the version of the post I had saved as "draft" about six hours ago.

Do the Firefox and Vox "recover/restore" features battle it out to save the content and Vox (unfortunately) wins?

What happened?

Also, why does it always crash when I'm trying to upload a photo? This happens once or twice a day when I'm using a blogging application made by Six Apart (which is a large portion of my day, I might add.) This does not happen when I upload a photo to any other website or with any other social networking sites like Facebook.

Please know that I love you dearly and I think that you're all golden, but I'm just wondering why this is.

Is this Vista's fault? Do I need to put the smack down on Bill?

Do Firefox, Six Apart's blogging apps and Vista just not get along?

Does this happen to anyone else?

This has happened to me on my old work PC and my laptop so I know it's not the computer I'm using. The only common link I can find are the browser I'm using, the blogging applications I use, and my choice of operating system.

Please help. I don't want to break up with any of you, but consistently losing content that I've put a lot of hard work is probably the worst feeling for any writer.

Help!!!

Yours faithfully (for the time being),

Cate
xx

ps. Please note how plain this post looks without any photos. It's heartbreaking.

Cornettos in Surrey and travelling topless to the sea...

Today, Iain and I drove to the sea topless.

Until you've driven around sans top, eating an ice cream and blasting Sugarland, I'm pretty sure you've never known happiness.

(Finally, our decision to buy a convertible in England makes perfect sense!)

I used to point and laugh at the good folks of the UK whenever the sun decided to come out. It could be barely 20 degrees Celsius, and they'll all be outside, drenched in SPF 50 and standing in line at an ice cream van discussing their evening plans for a BBQ.

Me, hailing from a town where it's likely to get up to 110 Fahrenheit in July, would roll my eyes and mock them endlessly.

Now, I am one of the assholes drenched in SPF 50 standing outside a que of 20 or more people, just to get a freakin' Cornetto so I can sit outside under the sun. The first summer I came to the UK I was shocked by how warm it was. Apparently it was the hottest July they've ever had, and I felt right at home.

Sadly, this past summer was the exact opposite. We saw the sun for about two weeks at best, and then all it did was piss down with rain. And be cloudy. And then hail. And then rain some more.

I no longer laugh at how giddy this country gets when the sun is out. I get it. I totally get it.

Therefore, instead of staying at home watching old episodes of Smallville and only leaving the house to walk down to Starbucks this Sunday, Iain and I left the house with one goal: TO GET AS MUCH SUN AS POSSIBLE.

We started the day off by driving to Box Hill, where we stood in a line of 20 or more people, just to buy two Cornettos and a bottle of water. The view at Box Hill is gorgeous, so if you have yet to go there, I suggest you do next time the sun is out.

We sat for a good hour, judging everyone near us and enjoying the view. The woman flying a kite in a really annoying fashion, the gay couple in front of us with the cute puppies who rudely didn't offer us any of their picnic, and all the pasty, sunken-chested men with their shirts off made for excellent conversation and people watching.

Then! Iain surprised me by driving us out to Worthing. The sea was gorgeous, the cocktail I had at a bar by the shore was amazing, but the people we saw...I won't even go into it. All I'm going to say is that they were unique, and we probably will never go back there. (But really it was lovely.)

On another note, things are doing very well over here in The Home Offices Of CupCate. We have some very exciting prospects, which, to say the least, is very comforting. Thank you all again for your encouragement and the birthday wishes.