So I'm in Starbucks
So my puzzlement and silence prompts him to speak forth, "If you buy the cup, you get a ten percent discount off of the drink you order." Ten fucking percent? Why don't you just give me a penny off the total cost of the drink and not insult me with ten percent? Especially when it used to be that you got the drink for free.
"I'll just take a double espresso, thanks," I say as I put the cup down, after which Sparky with the afro asks me if I want a doppio? Now I feel like yelling at this schmuck to not indoctrinate me in the ordering of coffee, that your secret language of drinks does not wash here. Instead, I nod and walk to the second line which is made up of a balding, pot bellied, middle-aged man in corporate get-up; tie and white shirt, navy-blue pants. Thank god I can wear jeans and a t-shirt to work.
Then I hear a Starbuckian yell, "Non-fat soy, double decaf latte!" Baldy looks at me with this sheepish grin as if we're in a porn store and I can see the filthy title of his wack material that he has selected for his viewing pleasure, and I cannot hide my disgust for his woossy drink order. I think I would have been more impressed if he was taking home some gay porn with a title like "Ass-spelunking Man-Cave Adventure."
So baldy takes his non-fat soy double decaf latte and hightails it outta there and I watch him go and think, my god, when did men become such pussies? This poor bastard brings home the bacon and he can't order a freaking latte...with milk, from a cow?
Just castrate us all now and pass the non-fat soy double decaf latte.
Did anyone see where I placed my red velvet pumps?

