YO BITCH: LESS TALK MORE LATTE!November 29, 2007
I don’t get mad very often, but when it comes to “goods and services”, I have zero-patience for anything less than EXACTLY WHAT I WANT.
I experienced a slight deviation from “what I want” this morning, as I visited my #1 latte shoppe (or that little-known place called Starbucks).
I had a day-off you see, and though it really switched up my morning-process, “latte-acquisition” remained top of mind.
It was one of those mornings where I wished long and hard for a loyal monkey-butler. Yes…“home-delivered lattes”, what a dream…
Well guess what: my monkey-butler-bitch is still en-route to Canada (current status: half way across the Atlantic on a cargo ship from Africa), so for today anyway, I was grudgingly resigned to leaving the goddamn house.
The suckiest thing about “leaving the goddamn house” was having to ditch my PJ’s. Yeah, apparently “teddy bear prints” aren’t socially acceptable (ohhh….well I’m sorry I’m so fucking cute). I wasn’t about to make a full-on compromise, so I only committed half-way; that is, I swapped out my PJ bottoms for my hot-ass exercise pants. My motivation here was to leave all the men out there thinking: “hey, who’s that bitch in the ass-hugging workout pants? She must’ve just finished a yoga class or something…what a cool slut”. That’s right, you force me to go outside? I will make you fucking drool.
When I finally arrived at Starbucks, my patience was level-zero, and my latte-thirst was mile-fucking-high.
As I rushed on over to the latte machine, the tall young barista caught my eye. NO he wasn’t a “hottie”, but more like your “run of the mill”, “average-joe”, psycho-looking FREAK.
We ended up having a chat (against my will), and here’s how that all went:
Barista-dude begins with: “SO, HOW IS YOUR DAY SO FAR???” (picture him saying it VERY loudly)
I muster up a smile and think to myself: “Oh God, this is one of those small-talk-loving fuck-heads; I am probably in for the worst 5 minutes of my life”.
[Side-note: I am NOT a bitch, but when pre-disposed to being “cranky-as-fuck”, I just want a goddman latte to make my world okay. Like seriously, interacting with baristas when I’m waiting for a coffee is “priority #: NEVER!!” (fucking losers who talk to strangers…) ]
So anyway, this stupid man-bitch just wouldn’t let up on the small talk! He actually went on to make it special, deepening our exchange with his “cult-leader” eyes and “I’m gonna cut up your body parts and put them in my freezer” smile.
And here’s how that went…
Psycho-Cult-Man: “Can I…share my opinion with you?”
Psycho-Cult-Man: “I just wanted to give you a little recommendation about your latte…”
Me: (dumbfounded stare)
Psycho-Cult-Man: “I strongly feel that you should skip the “regular nutmeg”, and instead try our special “holiday nutmeg”. In my experience (self-righteous tone), I find that the regular nutmeg over-powers the drink, whereas….(blah, blah, blah, he went on about nutmeg for another 5 minutes)…But hey, that’s just my “barista-expert” opinion” (picture the axe-murderer-smile once again…)
Me: “riiiiiighhht…okay” (just give me my fucking latte BITCH!!!)
So 2 or 3 hours later, I walked out of Starbucks at last, shaking my head in a “did that seriously happen?” kinda way. I mean come on people, I spend five whole dollars to get myself a latte and LEAVE; I can do without the life-altering-foreplay-ridden-slut-bag-conversation about “nutmeg”, especially when it’s had with a psycho-freak who wants to chop me up and save all my fingernails…
Final thought: whether or not I was a cranky-bitch is open to debate, but I will seriously kick some fucking ass (yours, your mom’s, a baby’s) if this ever happens again.