I don’t go to Starbucks
I don't go to Starbucks because they have superior coffee. I go to Starbucks because no one in close proximity can stay in business. Supply and demand. I need some fucking dense bean and the newsstand coffee that happens to be sold in establishments that don't specialize in coffee is to coffee what Coors Light is to beer: Sex in a canoe... or, for those that haven't heard that joke, fuckin' near water. All those little coffee connoisseurs out there that set up shop for the love of the bean don't have a chance around this caffeinated equivalent of Super Wal-Mart... driven out of business in every town and township across the nation... just like all the thrift stores, Mom-n-Pop shops, and Piggly Wigglies were pissed on by Sam Walden's behemoth. Yes, I go to Starbucks out of necessity. I'm not proud of it... but it happens.
This morning, I made plans to go home and have lunch with my lovely fiancée (yes, it's true... more on that later). This put me in a fabulous mood. What better way to celebrate? Since liquid depressant in the shape of alcohol isn't conducive to job retention, I elected to seek out some liquid stimulant in the shape of that luscious mixture of ground, dark roasted espresso bean and pressurized water heated above 212 degrees Fahrenheit. I picked my teetering-on-the-edge-of-carpel-tunnel-syndrome ass up out of the chair and went across the street to the previously mentioned monopolous coffee beverage establishment to find a line of people about 38 deep... some of them were two by two as if waiting to board the ark. I couldn't believe it. I did some quick math in my head and theorized that I could make it to Starbucks number two a couple of blocks over before they would find time to shoo these people away and make my drink here. I was off like a tube sock wearing power walker in a crowded downtown tunnel. Upon arriving at the next Starbucks, I was pleased to find the line was only 19 people deep. They were all kind of swaying and humming in unison... like a cult about to synchronize the imbibing of Kool-aid or something. I drew my wildcard. Starbucks number three was not far off... on the other side of my building... they kind of build a Bermuda Triangle of coffee if you will... *BAM!* I was off again... this time like old people power walking the shopping mall before the store fronts open (my will was wavering). I arrived a few minutes later in desperation. I needed my fix more than ever. I was behind a guy talking loudly on his Nextel direct connect communicator thingy and one of the baristas was on break. These were good odds. I held my ground. I could make it. I knew I could.
Ahhh... sweet nectar of the gods. I love my coffee. I love it even if it came from a Bill-Gates-of-Coffee company like Starbucks.
Game on.
This morning, I made plans to go home and have lunch with my lovely fiancée (yes, it's true... more on that later). This put me in a fabulous mood. What better way to celebrate? Since liquid depressant in the shape of alcohol isn't conducive to job retention, I elected to seek out some liquid stimulant in the shape of that luscious mixture of ground, dark roasted espresso bean and pressurized water heated above 212 degrees Fahrenheit. I picked my teetering-on-the-edge-of-carpel-tunnel-syndrome ass up out of the chair and went across the street to the previously mentioned monopolous coffee beverage establishment to find a line of people about 38 deep... some of them were two by two as if waiting to board the ark. I couldn't believe it. I did some quick math in my head and theorized that I could make it to Starbucks number two a couple of blocks over before they would find time to shoo these people away and make my drink here. I was off like a tube sock wearing power walker in a crowded downtown tunnel. Upon arriving at the next Starbucks, I was pleased to find the line was only 19 people deep. They were all kind of swaying and humming in unison... like a cult about to synchronize the imbibing of Kool-aid or something. I drew my wildcard. Starbucks number three was not far off... on the other side of my building... they kind of build a Bermuda Triangle of coffee if you will... *BAM!* I was off again... this time like old people power walking the shopping mall before the store fronts open (my will was wavering). I arrived a few minutes later in desperation. I needed my fix more than ever. I was behind a guy talking loudly on his Nextel direct connect communicator thingy and one of the baristas was on break. These were good odds. I held my ground. I could make it. I knew I could.
Ahhh... sweet nectar of the gods. I love my coffee. I love it even if it came from a Bill-Gates-of-Coffee company like Starbucks.
Game on.
Thank you for making people realize that most of us choose Starbucks because it’s the only coffee place around.
And CONGRATULATIONS!!
Yeah, congratulations. You’d thought you’d just throw that in and maybe no one would notice amidst the bean story, but I have a sharp eye. :)
Anyhow, congrats again. You and EL are good together and if you feel it’s right then why wait.
As far as plans for a gathering, keep it as simple as possible. You’ll enjoy it ALOT more. Am I ahead of myself here.
I still don’t worship at the alter of the bean, but I feel ya. I’ve been getting really annoyed at my local Rite-Aid and Ralphs for being lax on the stocking of Diet Dr. Pepper.
d00d… that’s why you must stock up of DDP at the jumbo-ist -mart around by the 12 and 18 packs… or case if they got ‘em.
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