i think i'm getting my period...

or i'm aborting a terribly deformed drug ridden fetus flapping thing...

either one would be awesome, because "stoners love blood"...

tylenol...tylenol, i have to work tonight, and make approximately 10,000 Caramel Apple Ciders, and twice as many non-fat caramel Macchiato's...and three times as many fucking Cinnamon Spice Mocha's....

and for the love of christ's homophobic mercy...

******there's no point in ordering the egg nog latte non-fat..there will always be fat in egg nog...it's made out of eggs...eggs have lots of fat, and lots of protein...you're buying a caramel brownie, and you're asking me to put extra fucking whip cream on top, please don't make my fat lazy ass go to the back fridge, to retrieve a carton of egg nog, so i can make it with non-fat milk...it's already pre-made in a little canister with whole milk in the front fridge, in reaching distance, because that's what america is all about...doing things the easy way until we get bombed****

and whilst i'm in the midst of bitching about the motherland...here's a couple things that piss me off about working for dr. evil:

a. MACK-E-A-TOE....not match-e-acto, or manch-i-nato, or even march-e-ato....CARAMEL MACCHIATO...and if you don't live on Jarvis St, don't fucking say "CAR-A-MEL"...there's no need for the extra "A" people...you live in america...

b. it's Gran-DAY, not...well, you get the fucking picture...

c. did i already say eggs have fat? because they do...

d. you know what kids, i love pumpkin scone's too...we all love pumpkin scone's...if pumpkin scone's were around in christ's time, they would be part of our religion...because of this very reason, we don't always have pumpkin scone's...there's no need to spit on me, nor did anyone give you the fucking bazoombas to swear at me through my little drive-thru microphone hat...this is starbucks, not big bert's discount feed...

e. why do you have to ask for the sleeve AFTER I GIVE YOU THE DRINK?...do you think that maybe before i give you the pushed schpeel when i'm taking your money, you could just...oh, i don't know, mention that you would enjoy your pretty little hands delicate and beautiful and un-pink this fine saturday evening?

one day, this is what i'm going to do...i'm going to grab a child out of someone's car...i'm going to scare it so that it will kill itself like Sylvia Plath (minus the Cambridge Scholarship, because if your punk ass is going to Starbucks, odds are, your children will have to fuck their way into community college)...i'm gonna push that little button on the espresso bar that you're not suppossed to touch, and just pray to whatever's up there, that someone from the Seattle headquarters chair will just pull out from under them...then i'm going to take all the espresso beans we have stored, grab the scissors that i can NEVER FUCKING FIND, EVER....tear them all open, and throw them onto the floor...i'm going to waltz...then i'm gonna find any punk nose mother fucker who ever ordered a six-pump, no water no foam no fat chai, or doppio espresso with (count them) four fucking ice cubes, or a grand-eh sugar free vanilla caramel match-i-ato, or a FUCKING NON FAT EGG NOG LATTE...

and...

well, i'll probably give them a free drink coupon, because i never make drinks right anyway

;)

is it really worth the free pound of coffee a week, my friends?

i don't know....but what i do know is...

i can have all the pumpkin scone's i want...