ARGH!

This blog is stopping me from book writing, but I can’t help myself! Bah.

And now a scene from my local Starbucks…

I’m digging the coffee house today. Got the usually abuse from the Barista’s, when I innocently tried to order my venti raspberry mocha – some of the women that work here are so mean! – but I got my most favorite table in the place. This is the desk-like table, with the wall mounted booth, and a view of the whole place. So who’s buying coffee on this foggy rainy day?

And enter the hot, twenty-one year old girl – they get one of these an hour, at least. She ordered a latte and wandered over to one of the easy chairs by the fire. She looked at me like I should know her – I have no clue who she is – and she looked away. I figure she’s meeting someone here that she doesn’t know, but I can’t tell for sure…

We got the Shouter today. He came in to order a tall of what is probably watered down drip coffee (Mild, too) with a copy of the Connecticut Post in tow. Then he recognized a guy that was already sitting down reading his own paper, by the fireplace. A hardy hello is given, and is then followed by a bunch of loud belly shaking laugher, while the dude sitting down simply tries to read the paper. The Shouter’s coffee order is called, so he goes to get it – our fireside reader turns the page of his paper and goes back to reading. The Shouter takes the chair that is twenty feet away from the fireside reader and proceeds to shout across the aisle between them about how [insert some local high school sports team here] are doing. His conversations are a murmur over my iPod, but his laughs derail whatever song is playing, without even trying. He left after fifteen minutes of unresponsive conversation with the fireside reader.

Now we got a trio of wanna-be-backstreet boys. One of them looks like his hair broke; must be a fissure in the hair gel glaze or something. And what’s with the Astro Boy point that this other guy is sporting? I’m all for the “bring the hair forward and push it into a point” but this fucker has a big spike in the dead center of his head. God knows I can’t do the pull foward bit – with my retreating hair line it would turn into a comb-over and I refuse to do that to myself. Look at this dude, though… Gooooooo G-Force!

Hm. A whole bunch of women just showed up… two are over 60, one is in her mid 40’s, two teenagers around 15, and… uh-oh. One pre-teen boy. Poor kid. I have nothing but empathy for him, having been in this situation countless times. I should take him aside and tell him to run for the hills now before these women twist his mind all shape out of with non-male nonsense… *sigh* More living testosterone wasted.

Whoa. WHOA. Is that? Um, yeah, it was! Whoa! Some chick that I used to flirt with a while just wandered thru the store! She used to work where I used to have my Post Office Box and left a couple of months before the owners closed up shop, leaving me high and dry with a dead address. Last I heard that she went to work with her mother at one of those “not-so-respectable-spa”… you know the places I mean. They advertise in the sports section of the local newspapers, have tinted windows out front and are open until midnight on Friday and Saturday nights. $100 for a full service? Yeah, one of those places! Neat, she didn’t see me… wow, did her ass get fat. She didn’t look like that the last time I saw her…

ACK! Vision blocked by a Beneton half T-shirt wearing chick’s ass, showing off Vicky S’ skivvies! Parents need to dress their teenagers more responsibly or else warn innocent bystanders that they might get a frontal assault of body parts that are so young that they’re currently illegal.

HAH! The hot chick’s guy showed up, and man is he a dorky looking… um, well, dork. I can’t tell if she knew him before he showed tho. Oh, man I hope she’s not dating him. Although… it would support the Brinkley-Joel theory, but it’s still painful to watch in action. Unless she was meeting me… that would be OK. But she’s not so it’s not. Ew. Ew. EW!

Blah. I’m nearly out of mocha and the friendly Evil midget just came out to help the congress of women, that set up shop in front of me – seems they had trouble figuring out what the different coffees were or something.

Ah well, back to writing.


3 thoughts on “ARGH!”

  1. Heh, thanks – I usually go to Starbucks to write on my manuscript or work on my class plan because there’s usually a lot less distractions there, compared to my electronically-infused home. And then ya get a group like this, and that all changes :)

  2. AND this post just got me yelled at by the friendly Evil midget, who accused me of slander, since she’s so nice to me. Of course this brought back the retort that she always tries to abuse me, has tried to hypnotize me into buying a latte machine, and that only her eyes are “nice” because the rest of her is evil. (being that her eyes are hazel; since mine are solid shit-coloured brown, I’ve always noticed hazel, grey/green, or blue eyes on everyone I meet – hell, a friend of mine has pupils so large that if other people noticed such things, they would think he was on something… I noticed but it seems no one else does).

    I then reminded her that it’s only slander when spoken; when it’s written down it’s libel. This means I’m going to have to be tricky with the next couple orders I make there, if she’s on the bar. :D


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