Three wierd stories.

12 Dec

Today is a day of trios.

There are three interesting personalities in Starbucks this morning.

The first is an English teenager talking on his phone.

I can’t tell if he has a speech impediment or just an odd way of speaking.

Its like a combination of what if Oliver Twist mated with Drew Barrymoore and had a retard love child.

Like each word is a little candy that is slowly unwrapped and held up for confused inspection.

He is talking on his cell phone to a girlfriend it seems.

Or maybe I am assuming a girl.

I am predisposed to hating the English, given my immigrant Irish roots, but I may a little too happy to assume the worst.

Oh well.

It seems that Oliver Barrymoore is in love, in that way that only a naive teen can be.

Crappy prose is crappy prose, but add this bizarre accent to it, and it becomes truly horrifying.

Currently, he is reminding her about their last dinner together before he left Liverpool.

Which, since she was there, she remembers as well.

Unless of course she hit her head and has amnesia.

And wouldn’t that be a damn shame.

This kid makes my teeth itch.

On to number two.

There is a little old Hawaiian man that drinks coffee and reads the newspaper out in front of the Starbucks.

He is always here, but he sits out front so I never really talk with him, but we see each other enough to say hi in the mornings.

The thing that catches my eye today is that he got his coffee, straight black, and took it out to the front to sip it.

Ten minutes later, he comes in and heads to the cream and sugar kiosk, doctoring his coffee.

Then he is out in front to peruse the business section.

And then, in ten minutes, he is back to cream and sugar it again.


I am watching, he is drinking it pretty steady.

And just about at the ten minute mark again, he is back at the kiosk, again.

There can only be a little coffee left. It has to be mostly cream and sugar by now.

Why should I care?

Simple, I am have a caffeine addiction as we all know and I find it fascinating.

Deal with it.

Number 3 on the roster today is the the Ginger.

True, she isn’t new to the blog, you all know her from previous blogs.

9 days out of 10, she is huddled behind the Barrista counter, scowling at me.

Today seems to be day 10.

I get my coffee hot and black, the cashier usually pours it and the barrista doesn’t get involved.

I had just ordered my coffee and paid at the counter.

“I’ll get it.”

A voice I have never heard announces as she moves past the cashier, grabs a cup and begins pouring.

Its the Ginger, and the reason I have never heard that voice before is because she is smiling as she does something for me.

If you look this up on the big “Chance of stuff happening” chart, this is right above finding a unicorn in your bathroom, ridden by a leprechaun holding a winning lotto ticket in his hand.

Something like that.

I spend the next half hour trying to catch the barrista’s eye.

She is smiling and possibly even singing a little song to herself.

I realize that she is not happy to see me, she is just happy in general.

The question is why?

Some my look at this as stalking, obsessing about the mental state of the hot redheaded barrista.

Relax, she normally hated me like an STD and besides, we kind of have history.

(Mini recap, The ginger is a player in the drama of Ronaldo and his meth head/porn king/sex slaver son. There, now we’re all on the same page. Read the whole thing here.)

The only issue now is, with her behind the counter, I don’t have a chance to ask why she is in such a good mood. This girl normally scowls at me everyday.

I finally give up and pack up all my stuff to head to work, figuring that I will talk to the old Hawaiian guy and find out it he is, indeed getting high off of Equal and Half and Half.

When I get outside and turn the corner to the short brick wall the old guy likes to sit on.

Great, he’s gone. I got nothing to end this blog.

I turn around to head the other way to work.

“There you are. I was hoping to catch you.”

The Ginger.

Deer in the headlights time.

I notice she has no apron and has a small backpack on her shoulder.

“Leaving early?” I gesture at the backpack.

“Getting on a plane in two hours. Going to New York.”

What she says next floors me and makes me smile for the rest of the day.

“I’m going to Ronaldo’s wedding.”

It’s about fucking time, Karma.

The man is due.


Posted by on December 12, 2011 in Uncategorized


2 responses to “Three wierd stories.

  1. LaVicki

    December 12, 2011 at 2:38 pm

    YAY!! Im only sorry you didnt know sooner so you could send a gift…. wouldnt that be a hoot? Talk about full circle.. now Ronaldo has someone else to leave all his money too and his dirt bag son wont get a dime!!!!!!!

    • Bittermac

      December 12, 2011 at 2:43 pm

      Amen to that! That was why I made the comment about Karma. If anybody deserves some good times and love…


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