There was a young(ish) mother sitting in the row in front of me. She continually tried to make small talk with the beatiful male specimen that was sitting across the aisle. I thought his suntanned, grey haired, Paul Newman blue eyed, tight little butt marked him as a model until he yanked out his cellphone when the wheels hit the ground. We were still rolling towards the jetway and he was all "Dude! Dude dude dude dude dude..." into the phone for the first half of the call and all "We dont need them. We don't need them. We don't need them." for the second half. For no good reason, it led me to believe that he ran a messenger service.
Anyway, the young(ish) mother stood up and swung a pocketed backpack up to her shoulder. In the meshy little side pocket rested a bright red insulated travel mug marked with a little pewter triangle that said STARBUCKS.
As if.
As if!
It is not for me to be led by nose, moved by the common opinion or deluded into a parody of exclusivity. And its really not good coffee at all.
"I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. You know, that or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing. "
Posted by: pops | January 06, 2006 at 10:23 PM
I agree, Starbucks can be a bit oily...
Posted by: toxiclabrat | January 07, 2006 at 01:38 PM
And burned. The only way I can drink Starbucks is with enough other stuff put into it to cover the taste of the coffee.
Posted by: Alison | January 07, 2006 at 08:16 PM