Raise Your Glasses

Here's to the people who frequent places in need of a pick-me-up, a shot of espresso, cup of joe on the go, or lounging with someone they know. This is for the pretentious types & beggars alike; the tired, the weary, those desperately studying, & everyone else in between. Here's to the readers, the dreamers, roamers, loners, crazy characters, passerby's, & regulars. Here's to a comfy couch, a mellow musical mix, a crafty corner dimly lit, warm smells, unexpected spectacles, & baristas themselves. Here's to the peaceful existence between dark roasts, vanilla lattes, half & half cream, or foreign born beans; a true house blend all sipping together under one unified roof or outdoor spot, & the pure essence of the Americano melting pot. Here's to all of those who are continually stirring the coffee culture.


Friday, February 4, 2011

Boys Will be Boys

She was a tall jovial robust woman that laughed aloud with the raspiness of a former chain smoker. We got along immediately. She was accompanied by this curly headed squirt flailing his chubby little arms about at nothing while running in an occasional circle and dragging his slimy hands down the length of any clear window or exposed glass case. He was cute for an absolute heathen. I'm not good with numbers, but I'd say he was around 3-4, maybe even 6-7. I take that back. Five got left out and he was speaking in Ebonics to himself. We'll just say the kid was 3-5.



Anyways, the bugger had chocolate stains on his face and wore a shirt that read, "Dirt Magnet." His mother ordered him a glass of orange juice, and I politely asked if she'd like me to put that in a cup with a lid for him. She said, "Oh no, [casually flapping her hand down] he's a big boy. Just give him a regular cup." However, when I walked around the counter to hand the uncovered glass to the little terror, who was karate chopping with a stupid off beat kick up to me, he jerked the dickens out of it and splashed the OJ all over his magnetic shirt. Score.



To this bizarre bean, running un-supervised through my establishment, about to get beamed in the dome with a nerf ball by yours truly: you know who you are...
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