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a Starbucks post
Since I don’t have much to report today, I’m thinking it’s about time I wrote a Starbucks post. I go there a lot and if I thought about it, I bet I could think up a bunch of anecdotes. You probably could too.
I sometimes have my clients pay me on my Starbucks card instead of with real money. This is really cool because $100 worth of lattes lasts a lot longer than $100 worth of groceries. It lasts for months, in fact!
I’ve noticed lately that our Starbucks is Gay Central. I’m fine with that. I can hang out with the most fabulous of the fabulous and that doesn’t bother me a bit. I love being surrounded by men who are prettier and more fashionable than I am.
What I have a problem with is the gay barrista who works there. He is a swell guy. Always friendly, quick with drinks…he’s great. The thing that bugs me is he keeps giving all the men free shots!!! The guy in front of me will get a free shot, the guy in back of me will get a free shot but when I get to the front of the line, what do I get? Nothing. No free shots for moms. I call prejudice! I want a free shot too!
I don’t really mind. Maybe he gets a lot of dates that way. More power to him. I don’t want to date him. I just think it’s kind of funny. One of these days I will get up the guts to tease him about it.
While we are talking about Starbucks…why am I the worst with spilling my coffee? You’d think the paper cups with the tiny little hole to sip from would be spill-proof but I have spilled coffee in every way imaginable. If there was an Olympic event for fastest way to get coffee through a little hole, or fastest way to dislodge the lid, I would win the gold.
I am all thumbs when it comes to holding my coffee. I have spilled coffee down the front of me. I’ve spilled coffee on other people. I’ve even spilled coffee three feet sideways when I caught a cup falling in midair and pinned it against the handle of a shopping cart. Sploosh went my coffee all over the grocery-store linoleum, narrowly missing a checker. I was so embarrassed.
I should not be allowed to hold coffee. I should just wear it on my back in one of those wineskin things and drink it through a very long straw. Thankfully, I take forever to drink my coffee and it is usually lukewarm or cold when I spill it. I have never yet (knock knock on my wooden head) spilled hot coffee on my baby.
I know I said I don’t mind hanging out with fabulous men who are prettier and more fashionable than I am… BUT I have to admit it is pretty sad when I show up at Gay Central (aka Starbucks) in my morning work-out attire (dumb-looking too-short sweats and baggy slouchy top that covers my not-so-tight mom-belly) and then I spill coffee all over my frumpiness too. Maybe that’s why I never get a free shot. Mr. Gay Barrista knows it would be wasted on me, literally.
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My Little Chatterbox
It’s good to have Toby back so now we can get back to our normal routine around here. HA ha hahahahah! What normal routine? Just kidding. It is really good to have him back though.
I don’t think Baby Bug has shut up for one minute since he has been home. I think she saved up every bit of information that happened over the two-week span that he was gone and is now trying to tell him all about everything. When she catches her breath and forgets what she was talking about, she’ll just start rattling off about whatever she sees. (I wonder where she gets that from?)
“Daddy. Did you know that the light is bright? See the light? See the light?! That light up there on the ceiling? And the heater, it has polkadots on it. It’s warm and cozy. I like to sit by it when I’m cold. And Pouncy-wounce, he is the cat. I lub Pouncy-wounce. He had the sneezy-sneezes… He had to go to the cat doctor and get a bandaid.” etc. etc. etc.
And on and on and on she goes until she falls asleep mid-sentence. I love that she is a chatterbox but it just cracks me up sometimes. I remember driving around in the car with her and talking to her non-stop when she was little little. She would just look at me and suck away on her pacifier and I would wonder what it would be like to have her talk back to me someday. Well, I wonder no more. Now I can hardly get a word in edgewise.
If I do interrupt her, she furrows her eyebrows at me and glares at me as if to say, “Mommy you’re getting me off track. Please be quiet so I can finish my train of thought.” If I ignore her (which I often do since her chatter is so endless it can blend in like white noise after a while) she will poke me and yell, “Mommy! Hear me!”
Oh, my little dear child with the voice of a very large lion.
Toby is finding it all very charming. But then he’s only been home for a day. I give him a week and he’ll closing his office door again. It’s kind of hard to get work done when you have a running commentary going on all day long. Good thing we’re heading out to the sticks on Thursday to get ready for my nieces tenth birthday party. I think by then Toby might need a little break!
Flashlight from secretagentjo on Vimeo.Here’s a little taste… though she toned it down a bit for the camera. Also, I apologize for the wobbliness. Bad camera holding. I know.
