Monday, June 05, 2006

Waffle waffle

So we wanted to have waffles, see. And that required ice cream, see. And for perfectly good reasons that would disturb the flow of my story here, we couldn't cycle, but had to take the car to the shops. Where we bought ice cream and returned to the carpark, which [remember this: it will be a key point later on] was cold, damp and wintry.

Geekman pats his pockets. "Where are my keys?"
I peer through the car window. "I think that would be them."

They dangle at us gloatingly.

My first cunning plan is to go back into the supermarket and buy a coathanger. Our car is infinitely break-into-able.

But the supermarket only has plastic ones. And nothing else remotely approaching the sort of wire I need. So I go up to the counter.
"Excuse me, do you have wire coathangers?"
"Yes, in aisle two."
"I just looked there, and you only have plastic."
"Well that'll do, won't it?"
"No, I need wire. It's for breaking into a car."

Then I realise I probably shouldn't have said that. I try to look nonchalant as I scurry back to the cold, dark carpark. (Did I mention that it was damp? And cold?)

We think about calling Weekend_Viking, who no doubt counts breaking and entering among his many useful life skills, but then realise we would have to share our waffles with him as a reward. Geekman doesn't like to share his food.

Then I remember the AA membership I got as part of a free-membership-for-people-under-the-age-I-used-to-be deal. I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner, since I've called them out three times this year already (for breakdowns, not lock-outs), and they are no doubt rewriting the free membership deal as I speak so that it specifically excludes people like me.*

The only problem with this new cunning plan is that the AA phone number is written on a piece of paper in the glovebox of the car. Which would be, you know, the locked thing over there in the cold, damp carpark. Well planned, StyleyGeek.

So, too chicken to brave the supermarket girls again, I try the fish and chip shop next door instead.

"Hi!" I say to the cute-ish guy behind the counter. "I was hoping I could borrow a phone book. I need to call the AA."
"Uh, okay." He hands me a phone book and as I turn to the index I realise my mistake.
"Except... it's not called the AA in this country, is it? It's the... the... dammit. What's it called?"
He's looking pretty blank too. "So you didn't mean the Alcoholics Anonymous, then?"
"No! The ones who come and do that thing for you with your car when you, you know, do the thing, on the side of the road, where you aren't going anywhere, because you..."
"Did that thing?"
I'm explaining myself perfectly coherently, but it still takes him a while to get it.
"Oh, the NRMA. I've got their number right here. Good luck..." Then, as I walk out the door, he adds in a quieter voice, "...with your alcohol problem."

So now that the AA men who are not AA men have been and gone with the wire coathanger of doom, and Geekman and I are no longer stuck in a cold damp carpark, I am going to alternate between gorging myself on waffles and coffee, and cringing with embarrassment.

Curse you foreigners and your funny way of talking.

____________
* Who are people like me? I've often wondered.

8 Comments:

Pink Cupcake said...

I know I shouldn't be laughing, but I am! This is too funny. :) (Of course, I wouldn't think it we're funny at all if I had been in your position!)

I hope that your waffles helped you to recover!

Unknown said...

It's called AAA (triple A) here. While reading it, I kept thinking, "Alcoholics Anonymous"?

Okay, I don't get the waffles and ice cream thing!

Note: I kept worrying about whether or not the ice cream would melt during the whole damned story. sad.

StyleyGeek said...

So did I! (Worry about the ice cream, that is). But it didn't. I guess it was cold enough outside.

StyleyGeek said...

It went down to 1 degree overnight (about 33 Fahrenheit to you lot). It was about 3 degrees (37 F) when we went out, though. During the day it's still been quite warm (12 C = 53 F).

Even one degree isn't that bad compared to most places I've lived, but it wasn't fun hanging around in the carpark for the AA men.

Unknown said...

please to explain the waffles and ice cream. Are waffles in AU the same as in the US?

StyleyGeek said...

I don't understand what needs to be explained! I think waffles are probably the same: a batter made of eggs and cream and milk and sugar and flour that gets cooked in waffle irons until it gets all criss-crossed and (in the case of our waffle iron) heart-shaped.

And they go most excellently with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

Admittedly that's not the most common topping -- strawberries and cream or cinnamon and sugar might be more standard, but it tastes fantastic. The ice cream goes all melty and the waffles go all soaky-uppy, and it's just tasty.

We usually have chopped banana, ice cream and chocolate sauce, actually, but due to cyclones wiping out pretty much all Australian banana crops, bananas are currently twice the price of ice cream (when measured by weight).

The only difference between American waffles and our sort that I know of is that I've heard that you lot have them for breakfast, while for us it's strictly a dessert item (okay -- also sometimes for brunch, but I think that's due to encroaching Americanism).

Badaunt said...

Ooh, something about your description of icecream melting into waffles reminded me of a lovely/horrible experience I had many years ago when a friend and I discovered fried bananas and icecream. We went through a litre of icecream and I don't want to think how many bananas (fried with brown sugar and plenty of butter). We were exceedingly sick afterwards, and we knew that was going to happen even as we were eating, but we JUST COULDN'T STOP.

I still don't think I ever want to face fried bananas again, but waffles? Mmmm... With melting icecream? Mmmm...

StyleyGeek said...

I went to a BBQ recently where there were bananas split down the middle and stuffed with chocolate, sprinkled with rum, wrapped in tinfoil and buried in the coals of the BBQ until they went all melty and alcoholic. Mmmmm...

And I only started eating bananas three years ago, after discovering fried bananas (fried in coconut oil and sprinkled with brown sugar). Then I graduated from those to bananas on toast with brown sugar, and eventually to uncooked bananas. But for 23 years of my life I was convinced I hated them.