I think my favorite Starbucks and I are perhaps spending too much time together. Today, my barista tried to suggest a hot beverage other than the one I religiously order because he thought he knew of something different I'd like to try. When I order, it's with conviction and urgency, never uncertainty. I do not think I look open to suggestion when I'm jonesing for my fix. I'm pretty sure I don't even look fully human at that moment. It's not until about halfway through my GrandeNoFatPumpkinSpiceLatteLightWhip that I start to resemble something more socially and fashionably sophisticated than a wild chimp.
I clearly have an addiction. As soon as I get that cup in my hand I begin to feel more calm and pulled together. I am almost convinced they put some type of illicit drugs in their coffee, because clearly there is something possessing powers above and beyond your everyday run of the mill caffeine at work here. I don't even care. The euphoria I get from that cup of Heaven is worth it.
Almost 2 years ago I had a birthday party. I requested there be no gifts, but folks who didn't get that message or who wanted to get me something anyway, showed up bearing gift certificates for Starbucks. These enablers... I mean friends... were unaware of each other's gift of choice. I ended up with nearly $200 in free coffee. Because I cut back on my caffeine while pregnant, I JUST used up the last card. Now that I'm paying for the coffees myself, I think I heard my husband mumbling how he'd wish I had a crack habit instead.... something about it would be less expensive. Oh well, ya like what ya like! (Plus, didn't I already mention my suspicion about the ingredients of this magical brew?)
So anyway, stand back Mr. Barista! Do exactly as I say, and no one gets hurt. Well, at least after I've actually had my coffee... before that people might get hurt. It's probably best for everyone's health and well being to hold off on too much interaction before I've had my fix.
I can relate to your sordid tale of addiction for I too, am a user. Looking back it all started innocently enough, just one cup on the weekends with breakfast. Now I'm up to 3 pots a day. I've hit rock bottom, I tell you. My friends and family have had enough of my self destructive behavior and have forced me into rehab. I try hard to stay clean, but I know that when I get out I'll be tempted to return to my past life style. I just don't know if I'm strong enough to resist the temptation of my old dealer, Juan Valdez. I dream of meeting him on the streets with his burro loaded down with sacks of coffee. He stands there fanning an open red can of Folgers in my direction....the aroma wafting through the air calling me home.
ReplyDelete(Lyle Fulton, not really anonymous)
LOL I drank a full pot of coffee one night as a teenager, and thought I was going to die. The most absurd part was I didn't know why my heart felt like it was going to explode, and why I couldn't sleep. It wasn't until my Dad asked what I had been doing that night and then asked "How much coffee?" that I put it all together. 3 pots and I would surely die. haha I was up for 48 hrs.
ReplyDelete