I just found this photo from in my phone from a while back. There’s this one elevator in my office building that, for whatever reason, always smells horrible.

Someone had finally had enough. It just makes me smile.

Mmmm, smells like a forest.

I’m not one to often try to do it twice in one day. Blame it on age, stamina, bad day at work, whatever. About three times a week is all I can muster. Of course I’m talking about writing a post for this blog. What?

But my meal today was so, sublime, let’s say, that I had to come back and relay the experience. I do have to warn you though: this post contains some generalizations and stereotypical jumps. Not that these are inaccurate, since they have happened to me on more than one occasion, but I just thought you should know going in.
Read the rest »

So, in today’s Part Two installment of Starbucks Coffee – now with Crack (part one), we catch up with our hero, late to work again, hung over from too much caffeine yesterday and subsequently being up all night, only to stop at the same Starbucks, with the famed orange mug in hand.
Read the rest »

Okay kids, today’s weird experience stems from my daily trip to the Starbucks on the corner.

Almost every day, after driving 17 miles to work in a complete fog, I manage to convince myself that I need coffee at the end of my trip. Nay, not just coffee, but that I need Starbucks coffee. The amount of caffeine that they infuse into it is just about what my brain needs to get started in the morning. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.

This morning, I decided to go in, rather than sit behind sixteen cars in the drive thru, and, sure enough, there was no line at the counter. It’s a crapshoot, I tell you. Some days, there will be a line around the building for the drive thru, and not a soul inside. Other days, the reverse is true. And when the Perfect Java Storm occurs, both lines are off the property. That’s the day I elect to just sleep in the cube and let the chips fall where they may.

At any rate, in an effort to keep my expensive habit under control, although it may hose the name of my blog, I decided to start bringing my own coffee cup in. Since I just get coffee anyway, it just speeds up the process and is an uber cheap fix. Today’s bill came to 43¢, which I’m sure was a gross undercharge, but last week this same new clerk charged me eight dollars for a coffee and scone, and I didn’t notice until I was back at work and it wasn’t worth a walk back. I figure it all evens out.

So, I approach the counter and plop my cool, albeit not necessarily unique, silver and orange travel mug on the counter, “coffee with a little room, please” being my regular request. The new girl fumbles with the ordering screen, first total coming up to $4.27, at which I squint and give her the “did you even hear yourself?” look, while barista Numero Dos grabs my coffee cup.

Here’s where it gets strange.
Read the rest »

So Tuesday night, on my way home from a particularly demeaning day of corporate graphic design drudgery, I had the radio on, the top down, trying to soak up the some of the sun’s soothing rays. It’s been raining here for what seems like weeks, and although the state needs it, it’s not much fun in a convertible in need of a new top.

But that day was sunny and a little cooler, so the top was down and as I cruised along the highway at the rush-hour speed of seven miles an hour, all I wanted to do was get home and crash. Which, of course, I couldn’t do, because I had several hours of freelance work left, but at least I could be at home in my totally disorganized and only partially unpacked apartment.

Once we finally escaped the freeway, traffic meandered through the streets at whatever speed it could, and seeing how this was the end of the day, we were all going five miles an hour over the limit, which put us at 45MPH on this particular stretch of the road.

Suddenly, interrupting my sunny, quiet ride home, comes a voice from above:

“Speed limit’s 40, buddy.”
Read the rest »