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My sensitive side.

Can I interest you in a Ghetto Latte with a shot of stank in it?

A homeless guy in line at a Starbucks is not a unique situation.

Caring, soft-headed individuals will give them gift cards to obtain high-priced coffee drinks and food. (The studies all show this is damaging, but people think they are helping rather than empowering and prolonging the homeless situation. Nobody reads anymore, so this will go on.)

But that is not the case this morning.

The gentleman wearing 3 layers of dirty clothes and a truly impressive aura of BO and urine does not have a card.

What he does have is an understanding of Starbucks courtesy policy.

“Venti hot water.” His voice is gravelly, feel free to speculate why. (METH!!!)

Starbucks will give hot water in their branded cups for free.

The reason is that they sell Via, an instant coffee product that I have an abusive relationship with.

I got my own hot water right after him and joined him at the cream and sugar kiosk.

On any C&S kiosk there is chocolate, vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon powder, all with the idea of dressing up your coffee beverage. (As a people, we are a spoiled pathetic bunch.)

While I creamed and artificially sweetened my coffee, the homeless barista mixed all of the available powders, along with 8, count em 8, sugar packets, into this evil bitches brew.

His concentration was like a witch concocting a potion, allowing for the witch to smell like shit that somebody peed on…2 weeks ago.

Half of the previously full powder containers were empty by the time he was done.

I have to admit, I was really curious what the final product tasted like.

He sipped it every now and then, tasting the flavor.

I would have asked for a sip, but the urine smell was dampening my appetite.

Plus, since my immune system is not what it once was, I was iffy on my ability to shake off the plague, influenza or whatever was causing those lip sores.

Eventually, the homeless barista left, yet his stench remained.

It was a chilly morning, but the air conditioning suddenly came on.

I applauded the manager’s efforts to clear the air.

Perhaps another thing to include on the C&S kiosk would be Fabreeze.

It would be a great way to break the ice with a rancid smelling street dweller.

“Good morning! Would you mind if I Fabreezed you in an effort to cut down on that feeling of imminent vomiting and the crawling feeling on my skin?”

Tell me the truth, wouldn’t you have a different view of the homeless population at large if the stench of BO and urine was replaced with Ocean Breeze™ or the lingering scent of lilacs?

I know I would be more inclined to pony up some change and ease off on the taser-reflex.

I know there are those of you that, for reasons unknown that are probably rooted in childhood abuse, disagree with me.

Can’t help you.

BB King once said, “Some people, if they don’t know, you can’t tell them.”

He was right.

Because there is no Fabreeze for stupid, that stench lingers no matter how long the AC has been on.

 
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Posted by on March 24, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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Little Orphan Meth-Head

“Its a hard luck ROCK, for us.

Its a hard luck rock, FOR US!”

 

“The pipe will come out, tomorrow.

Bet your bottom bitch that, tomorrow, there’ll be crack….”

 

This visual is killing me.

Out in front of the supermarket, is a folding table.

Taped to the front of it is a poorly xeroxed pictures of smiling kids.

A sign on the table asks for donations for foster kids.

The little honey behind the table, I assume to collect the donations as they roll in, is a human being that has lived a hard life.

Meth is not even in question, there has DEFINITELY been meth.

Missing teeth tell a story all their own.

But, and here is the kicker, this is all about her.

Meth will do that to you, make you the main character in every story.

And she is on the phone.

Angry.

Practically yelling.

“These fuckers want me to sit here like a retard, begging for change for minimum fucking wage!”

Wow.

Let that sink in.

Take a minute.

Got it?

Lets move on.

If we take our clues where we may find them, we have the tragic tale of Little Orphan Meth Head.

She is not homeless.

How do I know this?

She has a house arrest ankle bracelet, so she lives SOMEWHERE.

She is making minimum wage, but has not walked off the job, so, at some level, she gives a shit.

Lots to love, lots to hate.

Plus she has a potty mouth and doesn’t give a shit who hears it.

Sliding over into love here.

I am hiding just inside the automatic doors in the store, out of sight.

However, my presence is making the automatic door stay open.

When no one comes out but the door stays open, eventually she will notice and the jig will be up.

Next epic line.

“I don’t give a fuck where they put those little bastards!”

Big step to the hate.

Do what you want, but don’t fuck with the kids.

They have a hard life too, but they had no choices, unlike our orphan.

Run your whiny mouth all you like, addiction is still not a disease.

I contemplate for a few minutes what to do.

Do I get involved? Complain? Try to talk her down? Something?

Something it is.

I play wallet roulette.

I reach into my wallet and grab the first bill from the middle and pull it out.

I don’t organize my money, so today, it could be any one of 3 ones, 2 fives, a ten or 2 twenties. (I am really sweating the $20s. I am charitable, not rich.)

In the end, I folded the ten and stuffed it into her box while holding my finger over my lips.

Crazy bitch actually smiled at me.

I left before Annie attacked Daddy Warbucks.

It was a beautiful moment, but lets not try and fool ourselves.

The sun will come out……Tomorrow!

 
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Posted by on February 10, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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At least wear a condom

There is something to be said for old school making out.

There is also something slightly uncomfortable about not being one of the makeout participants.

But there is something evil in the delight washing over me as I watch other non-participants being REALLY uncomfortable about the aforementioned making out.

There is a thirty-something couple that is sitting on the cushion seats at Starbucks, making out like they are cheating on someone.

There is no inappropriate touching going on, everyone is fully clothed, but I am beginning to suspect that either their lips are stitched together or he is performing some sort of dentistry on her with his tongue.

Table to their right is inhabited by every disapproving old lady you have ever met.

Old ladies come in pairs as a general rule.

Its a lot like a buddy system, one to talk trash, the other to nod their head.

And, from the looks of it, these two old biddies are just about to shit themselves.

On the other side of our amorous couple is the Creeps.

The Creeps are just staring.

Creep #1, we will call him Peeper, he likes to descretely peep out of the corner of his eye and pretend no one sees him looking.

Creep #2, we will call him Alpha Creep, doesn’t give a shit, he is just blatantly staring.

Alpha Creep has enough of a pervy creep vibe to him that he may start masturbating at any moment, and it would not shock me.

Getting back to our carnal customers.

We could call them Romeo and Juliet, but that seems a little too easy and over done.

So, Fred and Ginger are going at it like he is leaving for the war tomorrow.

I would say get a room, but they have two untouched cups of something in front of them, so they have technically paid the rent on the 2 spots on the cushions they currently inhabit.

I mean, if a homeless guy can buy a small coffee and sleep in a chair, then two fully clothed patrons who DON’T stink can dry hump on the table.

Plus, its kind of sweet.

I mean, making out as an art form seems to have been on the decline for the last decade.

And I don’t understand why?

I mean, done right, making out is one of the more erotic things two people can share.

And we all seem to forget that in pursuit of the infamous “Hook Up”.

Evidently, hook ups are happening left and right.

By the way, they still don’t have cures for STDs, but they are all on the rise.

Which is why the hook up is not something I can do.

Remember the movie Jaws?
I stopped going in the ocean because of that movie.

I am sure that I will become that rare statistic that will be eaten by a shark.

Same thing with STDs.

It would be just my luck to catch something and my shwantz would fall off and scurry away like a frightened snake.

Who needs that type of stress?

But, I am liking Fred and Ginger.

To be perfectly honest, they aren’t boring, they smell nice and I am not worried that they might attack in a drug fueled rage.

So I say, let them stay.

 
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Posted by on November 4, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Got something to say?

For God’s sake, wash your ass!

I don’t think I am asking for too much here.

I cannot name a time that Starbucks ever had a stank like this going on.

And the sad part is, it’s a self inflicted wound.

Starbucks did it to itself.

It all has to do with free electricity and lax policies concerning the homeless.

Every table is wired in a starbucks.

They do that so people like me will stay awhile.

The longer I stay, the more I will buy.

But here is the flaw in the plan.

The homeless will spend a dollar and stay all fucking day.

The government gives away cell phones with chargers and free cell plans.

The one thing the government does not give away is charging stations with free electricity.

So here is the one flaw in Starbuck’s plan.

I am positive that I am the customer they planned on with the whole setup.

As opposed to a $1.50 sale to someone who will then sleep in a massive BO stupor for 10 hours.

I can guarantee that little scenario is not on any business plan at the corporate office.  

I broke my nose years ago playing hockey, so I don’t smell much these days.

But the stench of the unwashed ass of the homeless guy at the next table is killing me.

“How can you be so cruel? You don’t know what his life has been like. Walk a mile in his shoes…blah, blah, fucking blah.”

Cry pussy, cry your eyes out.

All actions in life have consequences.

A dozen minor decisions pile up into 1 major issue.

Ignorance of the laws of life is no excuse.

“But thats not fair!”

Right, its not.

Doesn’t mean thats not how it is.

Sorry to get real on you, but that little rant I found balled up in the back of my head, so I dusted it off and put it out there.

Shit in my head has a shelf life.

I keep nothing past the due date.

That little philosophy will not win you a lot of friends and it will lose you a few, but at least you know that the ones that are left have a little backbone to them.

Excellent sign of people who I will piss off is that they use the phrase “There is nothing funny about ___”

Censoring yourself is like an addiction, it seems harmless at first and then you realize one day that it effects everything you do.

Trust me on this one, you don’t wake up one day with this type of literary tourettes.

Its a place you end up, not a place you begin at.

There is a scene in the epic tale Cyrano De Bergerac where Cyrano talks about being his own man:

“But, to sing, to laugh, to dream,

to walk in my own way,

free with an eye to see things as they are,

a voice that means manhood.

To cock my hat where I choose.

Not a word, a yes, a no?

To fight, or write.

But never to make a line I have not heard in my own heart.”

Edmond Rostand was the shit.

I wonder how he took his coffee?

 
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Posted by on October 14, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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As plain as black and white

A stray comment from the next table caught my ear this morning.

“I don’t want this to sound racist, but”

And I swear, I almost laughed out loud.

The reason for my barely controlled outburst is that, when someone starts a sentence with that phrase, you KNOW that the following sentence will be racist as hell.

This morning, the second half of that sentence was…

“That black guy has complete advantage in this heat.”

Backtrack for a second. The questionably racist millennials at the next table, are dumb, being in their early 20’s thats a given, but they are also white and insecure.

They have an expensively grunge look to them.

So we know that they come from money, but have issues with that.

It is hot out.

Southern California in late September can be a bitch.

When the two Twitterheads walked in, they mentioned the two homeless guys out front.

I didn’t think much at the time, but now that is a key point here.

The two homeless guys are your usual homeless, dirty and smell like piss, by coincidence, they happen to be black and white.

So to put the story together, they feel that the black guy has an advantage in the heat.

Here is the simple facts.

It doesn’t matter what color they are, the fact is they are both drug addled as to be wearing several layers of clothing and that sitting in the blistering sun without shade to beg for change makes sense.

No matter what color you are, its a bad idea.

For a $1.15, they could get a small coffee and sit in the air conditioning for several hours.

However, that would take $1.15 away from their drug of choice. (This comes from the professionals that work with the homeless. You have good intentions, but you are dumb and don’t know.)

Back to our young and dumb kids.

I would call them racists except they are too dumb to get it.

And I don’t have the time.

Every second I would spend trying to belittle and educate them would take away from amusing myself and quite frankly, I am more selfish than I am socially conscious.

With the exception of my kin, the youth of today are a sadly misguided bunch, raised by retards and fed the kind of silly shit that makes Bernie sound like a good idea.

Its like the whole ethanal debate. (Its a joke, and a dumb one at that.)

So, as I watch the two kids and sip my coffee, a question pops into my head.

Should I get another cup of coffee?

I mean, this one is almost empty and I am really not feeling that twitchy edge of caffeine that I like.

If you have enough caffeine, there is a natural twitch bordering on tourettes that, in my case, causes me to type horrible things, often against my will.

But it is important to have a hobby.

In the end, there is nothing to be done about the dipshits.

The are young and part of what they think is a much more accepting culture.

They will protest that they meant nothing by it.

Like Louis Armstrong said, “Some people, if they don’t know, you can’t tell them.”

Smart guy, played a wicked horn.

All that, and here is another reason to hate these kids.

Who the hell comes to Starbucks and gets a $5 juice packet.

You are in a legal crack house, kiddies.

So buy some goddam crack.

There is only one thing to do.

Get another cup of coffee.

 
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Posted by on September 30, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Oh, the places you will go… on caffeine.

The odd things that stick in your mind and come back to you at the weirdest of times.

I sat down to write and realized I didn’t have a solid topic picked out.

So I closed my eyes.

And the circus began.

Three things hit me almost at once at random.

And I realized that they were so different from each other, that I was done, I had my topic.

Or topics, plural. 3 of them, in fact.

  1. Just a fleeting memory. I was bicycle commuting (Which sounds better than “I was riding my bike” like I am 5 years old or something.) thru a somewhat more ghetto-ish section of town. (That sounds racist, but I am seriously trying for it not to be.)

I pass a car lot that has loud hip hop/rap playing. A salesman in a shirt and tie leads a couple to see a car at the front of the dealership, on the street. Husband and a wife with a lot of “Junk in that trunk” (This is an important fact.)

Just then, the song changed. A serious twerking song started. Without missing a beat, the wife bent over and started shaking that ass. Also without missing a beat, the salesman began miming smacking that ass.

And the husband’s smile never faltered for a second.

And my first thought was, what a salesman.

A sales mentor told me years ago, as long as your customer is right there with you, in congruence, you can say/do pretty much whatever you want.

Same goes for ass smacking.

  1. The second scene takes us to far away Venice beach. A beautiful local in Southern California, a massive vacation spot. There are sights to see, people vacationing, absolutely stunning weather….

And the homeless. Venice and Santa Monica, among all the beach communities, encourages the homeless. The police are handcuffed, to use an ironic comparison, and basically leave the homeless alone.

There is a beautiful outdoor cafe, right on the boardwalk, a third of the tables in the cafe are indoors, with the remaining two-thirds out on the covered patio. The view is the boardwalk, the sand and the ocean. Truly scenic.

Street performers are plying their trade about 10 yards away. I have been watching a truly gifted guitar player/singer make his way thru covering most of Simon and Garfunkel’s best hits.

For some reason, I happen to look behind me and see a homeless guy making his way up the alley next to the cafe. It is either a homeless guy or a shabbily dressed grizzly. The hair/fur has not been cut recently if ever, and I am thankful that I am upwind. For some reason, despite my love of live performance, something about the homeless guy catches my eye. He just cleared the building and stopped right next to the wrought iron railing of the cafe. There is a well-monied couple sitting just on the other side of the railing. These are important people, you can tell by their dress and comportment. I don’t mean actually important, I mean they feel they are important. The key giveaway is when the guy signals the waiter, he snaps his fingers. He is either from New York or Europe, because that is the only place that kind of shit is not considered rude.

And then, the show begins. The Important couple does not seem to see the homeless guy, or are at least ignoring him. But, the homeless guy decides it is time to take a shit.

So, with no hesitation for his surroundings, he drops trow, squats and begins to shit. I can hear at least one grunt, but my mind is perfectly capable of making that up in the effort to enhance the moment.

And then, the true magic begins. The homeless guy wobbles a bit, like he is losing his balance, and reaches out with his right hand, and grabs the rail of the cafe, along with the back of the Important guy’s lightweight jacket. It pulls him back slightly. He peers over his shoulder and sees what is going on behind him.

And loses his shit, figuratively, compared to the literal one going on behind him.

The Important guy yells and tries to stand, but can’t because he is kind of pinned to the rail by our unwashed, defecating minstrel. The Important woman begins screaming, and you really cannot blame her, she has the straight on view of what is landing on the pavement.

The entire scene is tailor made for a movie starring Jim Carrey.

Enjoy your meal.

Welcome to Southern California.

  1. The final scene is a quick one. The title of this scene is, When is a Victim Not a Victim?

A mother and daughter are in line at Starbucks. The daughter is looking at yogurt and fresh fruit parfaits. Mom is just scowling for an unknown reason. The daughter picks out her selection and turns back to mom just as the spot in front of the cashier.

“Eating those will make you fat.” Mom says in a monotone bitch voice.

“Tough taking advice from a fat woman.” Daughter says in that same monotone as she walks past her.

Suck it, you belittling hypocritical bitch.

 

So much for a random sampling of the caffeinated thoughts of a true addict.

But at least the coffee is hot.

Mmmmmm coffee…

 
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Posted by on September 9, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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The travelling freak show.

Travelling can be a great way to broaden your horizons.

And by horizons, I mean people watch in a new location.

I am over a thousand miles away from my usual stomping grounds.

The Pacific Northwest.

The region responsible for inflicting Starbucks on the world. (That is one of those blessing/curse things.)

The nicest thing about people watching in a new place is that you get to see the local freak talent.

They may be blending into the background for the regulars around here, but I am getting my eyes on them for the first time.

So, here is a round up of the locals in beautiful downtown portland.

  • There are two homeless guys in line behind me that left their signs propped up next to the front door. “I’m not gonna lie, I just want a cold beer” and “Give till it hurts, I don’t mind”
  • The guy standing next to me as I wait for my coffee is so stoned he keeps dozing off and almost falling.
  • This is a general thing. Half the population of this Starbucks is women. And ALL of them are wearing glasses. Not a one with proper vision or contacts in the bunch. I happen to be of the opinion that women with glasses are the hottest thing this side of long thick hair, (Along with the nervous tendency to play with that hair when you think no one is looking. You know who you are.)

The two homeless guys are the most annoying.

The guy that wants the cold beer is a liar, he ordered a coffee drink.

And being a begging homeless guy pays a lot better than it used to, he ordered a $7 coffee drink.

The stoner guy may have hurt himself.

He got his coffee and made his way into the bathroom.

Soon after the door closed, I heard a crash like he fell headfirst into the toilet.

I would have checked on him, but I am not my brother’s keeper.

At least, not this one.

As for the bespectacled women?

I sat and sipped my coffee with a full chubby for the better part of an hour.

And then I saw her.

Or him.

Or it.

Not to be bigoted, and everyone is free to live whatever life you want, but if your basic sex is not within the realm of even guessing, I reserve the right to judge the shit out of you.

Man, women, man, women…… ADAM’S APPLE AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

He/she had a great ass, I will give he-she that much.

I finished my Venti house drip, thats 22oz of caffeinated goodness, and took the cashier’s offer of a free refill for being a visitor and got more caffeine.

There is a certain giddy edge to ingesting 950mg of caffeine in a short period of time.

The State of California defines being “Under the influence” of caffeine at an unsafe level as having more than 200mg in a 4 hour period.

This is how bad things happen.

There is a streamlined cerebral frenzy that goes on when your brain is mainlining legal speed in quantity that only meth heads or astronauts can understand.

Shitty, sarcastic lines so vile you tend to avoid eye contact with others for a few hours just from the sheer travesty of the imagery.

Music is awesome and really annoying at the same time.

You want more than anything to argue with people you don’t even know.

The safe move is just to keep typing and don’t inflict this kind of random mayhem on strangers.

Mainly because you might want to come back to this Starbucks before you leave town like a man making a jail break.

It is wildly hard, almost impossible to be asked not to come back to a Starbucks without an arrest being made, their corporate whore-like money greed is that strong.

I have been banned twice from various Starbucks.

One for, and I quote, inciting an insurrection.

The manager had a flair for the dramatic, but basically, my crime was egging on a crazed homeless man who was arguing with a painting on the wall.

The second time was making comments under my breath to the ultra-sensitive liberals having a meeting at the big table.

They complained bitterly to the manager and then I did it again while he was asking me to stop, and that made me laugh so hard I got the hiccups.

None of this is illegal.

The last thing Starbucks wants is the police involved.

Starbucks just wants to sell coffee.

And I just want to drink it.

Mmmmm coffee…

(Tastes different up here, must be the water.)

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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