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That vile stench.

There is something to be said for kind gestures.

Or just basic customer service.

Either way, its just nice.

I changed jobs awhile back, moving to another local company.

My morning Starbucks is now a different one.

I fear change like an old school peasant.

Given the right situation I would be standing at the unlit bonfire yelling, “Burn her!”.

I am ok with that.

The show Cheers was a hit for the better part of a decade.

And the reason was the idea that there was a hip, cool place where “Everybody knows your name”.

Catchy tune, sticks in your head.

Today, something nice happened.

I came in to find a sizable line waiting for me.

Nothing new, plus, I had a book with me.

And then it happened.

“Here you go.”

The floater goes between the cashier and the barrista, getting items and orders together.

The floater handed me my hot water.

I drink the Starbucks via, the instant coffee, so all I need is hot water in the morning, but you still have to wait in line for it.

Its a minor, silly thing, but it’s nice.

Makes a difference.

So I am writing this with a smiley feeling in my head.

Doesn’t lend itself to sarcastic thought.

Pity, I do some of my best work when I am annoyed and semi-pissed off.

Which means you are stuck with shiny happy Mac instead of bitter.

Here I sit, watching Game of Thrones and sipping my coffee, the soul of contentment.

There are better situations out there, but this is nice.

And just like that, its gone.

My table is near the back, near the bathroom.

And there is a line for the toilet.

And the guy in line, right next to my table has a particularly fierce brand of BO going on.

You have to wonder why you leave the house, smelling like that.

And yes, I am arrogant about this.

But basic cleanliness seems like a foundational understanding that some are born without.

Who knows, maybe Stank boy was born with that, then life and experience stepped in and twisted him around to the point that a little stench is the least of his issues.

If you look at one way, he stinks, but he is minding his own.

I, on the other hand, smell delightful, but I have been told often, by the dedicated blog critics, that there is a vile stench that emanates from my written thoughts.

So who smells worse?

He does, but my stench will stick with you longer.

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Shit or garbage, you choose.

One of the great questions of mankind is what do little old men and rap music have in common.

Not a damn thing.

Except that I am stuck in the middle of prime examples of both as we speak.

On my left, sporting a dazed look and pants that demand both to be pulled up and that his mother (If still living) smack his stupid ass for leaving them down that far to begin with.

He also has faint rap music drifting out of his iPod.

And its shitty rap music.

I am not a fan of that particular genre of music to begin with, but the crap that he is listening to hits the bottom of the “Low rent” barrel.

Plus the kid has this dazed look on his face that I believe is caused by the shitty music.

And then there is the little situation unraveling on my right side.

And by “Little situation” I mean the old guy thats unraveling on my right side.

This guy babysat Methuselah.

Old enough that I cannot even gauge how old he is.

Old enough to have that “Permanently terrified” look on his face.

Old enough to have that vague Ben Gay smell in the background.

Old enough to have a continual head shake that you can’t help but see, even in your peripheral vision.

Old enough that I am worried about him surviving my cup of coffee before slipping out of his seat in a “Code Blue”, accompanied by the crappy jazz music currently piping thru the speakers.

Got the picture so far?

And I am stuck in the middle in my own little “Special” hell.

And the sad part is they are both bopping their heads, one to shitty music, the other because of aging neck muscles.

One side Ben Gay, and there is a smell on the other side that I have not yet been able to identify. Its either BO or AXE body spray gone tragically wrong.

Vegas money is on BO.

First of all, rap music should rhyme. (Old school rules. See also, “Kid & Play” circa 1984)

Second of all, who dresses the elderly? The old guy got up to use the bathroom, and his pants are as high above his ass as the kids are below.

Third, and final, I am not enjoying the new Starbucks as much as the old one.

The reasons are various, but all kind of boil down to me kind of whining about change and how much I hate the unknown.

But, putting my fears aside, at least its still a Starbucks.

Which means coffee.

And if this blog is about anything, not just this post, but the whole blog, its about my fairly out of control caffeine addiction.

And please don’t misunderstand, I am not saying coffee is a God, I am just saying it might be.

It’s the caffeine that makes me generally edgy and rude, which makes for good reading.

For me, that is. This is not about you.

 
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Posted by on February 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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