So, I haven’t posted in a couple days. Nothing to say? Stops me not at all! Bwahhhhhaaa!
Okay, here’s the thing. There’s this guy that works at the Starbucks I frequent. He must be in his early 20s, sorta tall, big (in a Shrek kind of way) with this peculiar facial hair that reminds me of Bilbo Baggins or some hobbit like creature. Now, I have seen this guy in there before and I think he’s got some wicked-ass ADD or something because he cannot remember the customer’s order at all. They say it, he repeats it (incorrectly). They correct him, he says it wrong again and hopefully, the barrista person is there to hear it and get it right.
What annoys me most about this gentleman is this: when I go to Starbucks, mostly I take a book. One time, I was carrying a book as I approached the counter. ALL his attention was wrapped up in reading the title of this book. Like he goes into a trance or something, I don’t know. Recently, I was wearing my Eddie Izzard “Cake or Death” tshirt and went in there to order my usual (venti, no foam, extra hot latte). As I approached the counter, he blatantly stared at my chest.
Now, I know I’ve got the Ta-Ta’s of love going on (HAHAH) but must one be so blatant? But NOOOOOOO! He was in his trance reading my shirt. WTF? Dude! Just take my order and move on with your little (bizarro) life!
Fortunately, the chick behind the espresso machine recognized me so she knew my order despite him calling it out incorrectly. However, it took longer than expected to prepare so they gave me a coupon for a free beverage. YEY!
So yeah. Yesterday, before I met the Cousin ‘O Love for the Baltimore wedding shower road trip, I stopped you-know-where to redeem my coupon. Of course, Lord Doofus was at the register, all ready to read my shirt, my book and/or mess up my order. Since I wasn’t carrying a book and I was wearing a shirt with no writing on it, he was left to just mess up my order.
somehow made it to low fat, extra foam latte. NICE.
Okay, so I go to redeem my coupon and he says “Aren’t you going to buy anything?”
I. BEG. YOUR. FUCKING. PARDON??????????
Despite my incredulity (is that a word? If not, I just made it up!) I said “Nope” and moved on over to get my foamy, no fat, barely lukewarm latte (my homegirl wasn’t behind the bar) but I was not a happy camper. Bad enough he stares at my tits (or not, as the case may be), spaces out to look at my book titles and gets my order wrong time and again. Now he’s got to badger me about how much I spend (or don’t) at Starbucks??
One more faux pas like that and my butt is taking a visit to the manager’s office. I am really pretty tolerant of stuff so if you’ve crossed a line with me, it’s got to be right bad.
What a tool. Seriously.
And speaking of which, I had no less than 4 random IMs today. All of the were in the “Married? How’s that going for you?” vein and despite wanting to toy with them, I dispatched them quickly. I think I will start a page of come ons used by various men just to see how they are similar (or not). We can have a contest and send the one with the most unique come-on a prize (a free coupon to Starbucks?? haha).
Who’s with me on this??
Yeah, Peter Jackson is the director of the Lord of the Rings movies. I can’t get Lisa to see them, although I don’t know why. But anyhow he is smallish, rotund, with lots of very curly black hair. He looks like a hobbit, which is probably why he is directing the films. He is now worth many, many millions of bucks, thanks to the movies, and is happily married so I doubt he is working the swing shift at Starbucks. Besides, he lives in New Zealand.
Who’s peter Jackson anyway?
And why, for the love of Pete (not Jackson) would you even deign to go into a chat room? Eeeek!