When Mark moved to Utah, he lost Golden Boy on the ski slopes. Then he got a replacement mug that leaked a lot and was generally terrible, but it worked for a while (I'm not sure that one ever earned a name)...until he left it at church in March and we never found it again. So I went out and bought him a replacement of the original Golden Boy, only this time it was blue, and I gave it to him as a little surprise so he could stop mourning the old mug. He christened this one "Ol' Bluey," despite how many times I protested the name (it's a reference to something on The Simpsons--most things are).
Ol' Bluey lasted us until sometime last week, sadly, when Mark misplaced Ol' Bluey, and this time not only is the mug lost, but the general vicinity in which it was lost is lost on us as well. So I decide that Mark has also lost his travel-mug-owning privileges because we can't afford to spend $50 a year on travel mugs! But two days ago he texts me this picture while he's out:
This replacement mug was an impulse buy, and impulse buys don't usually work out great for Mark. This is no exception.
The mug doesn't have a screw-on lid so he can't just throw it in his bag and trust it not to spill; the edges of the cup are metal so it scalds his lips when he drinks his tea; the mug isn't insulated so it doesn't stay hot very long; and finally, he has to carry it exactly like that, in this awkward I-can't-relax-my-arm-because-I'm-carrying-a-mug position, which is HILARIOUS. See below, a picture I could barely take because I was laughing so hard at Mark's indignation:
I named this one Tin Man, partly because it's metal and partly because Mark looks as stiff as the Tin Man when he walks around with that awful mug. In short, it only took one day for Mark to hate his new mug.
Today he left the house with his red mug, which you can just glimpse in his hand. The red mug is supposed to be only for lattes (because if the latte mug and the tea mug cross, then the tea tastes like coffee), but desperate times call for desperate measures.