tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66779181051286017422024-02-07T16:27:07.778-08:00Diary of a Coffee PrincessCoffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.comBlogger266125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-50730743005673509462010-03-17T14:08:00.001-07:002010-03-23T17:24:49.482-07:00St. Patty's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqgfRadBzAiH2JQRyTz6HObc4qTT7ZJMzlnwUERCKd-MBpAnMw6KnBFmDiHky6J4gT86SmKeOK_MmxdMCGUVA9tGqRxA6L2sIQKoCFs2VkZzCMhskA7e2TiTyUOO7I_VfjVzLdrip4KA/s1600-h/St.PattysDay.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqgfRadBzAiH2JQRyTz6HObc4qTT7ZJMzlnwUERCKd-MBpAnMw6KnBFmDiHky6J4gT86SmKeOK_MmxdMCGUVA9tGqRxA6L2sIQKoCFs2VkZzCMhskA7e2TiTyUOO7I_VfjVzLdrip4KA/s200/St.PattysDay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451989719725669890" border="0" /></a>I love almost all holidays. I strongly believe we should have more of them, as a matter of fact. I know that if we had more things to celebrate in this country, then everybody would be happier. Today, I celebrated St. Patrick's Day. This is always a fun holiday because anything that involves the color green, leprechauns, gold, and alcohol can't be anything but great. But as much as I do love holidays, I don't always love people on holidays.<br />St. Patrick's Day is one example of a day where I am not too fond of the people. It reminds me of frat parties where everybody is drunk and acting stupid and a lot of people have red faces.<br /><br />Today I dressed up for the occasion. I tried to wear as much green as possible with as little coordination as I could get away with. In walks a man. We'll call him Patrick.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> How come you're not in a bikini<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Oh shoot, I must have forgotten to wear it today<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> You would make more tips if you had it on<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I know that. Too bad that tomorrow is bikini day<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick: </span>Well I'm not going to be here tomorrow<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> That's too bad. You're going to miss it<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> You can give me a preview<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Not allowed<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> Come on, nobody is watching<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> The cameras are<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> We can go in the back room<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Would you like a coffee or not?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> I would like a latte. Come one, let me see<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No. You should know a little mystery is better<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> A bikini is a mystery.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I'm sure, but clothes are even more of a mystery so I will stick to that<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Patrick:</span> I can picture you in a bikini now...and I like it<br /><br />Then right before I punched him in the face he said "Here's a dollar tip. I would have given you more if you had on a bikini"Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-11900129457415852282010-03-16T14:11:00.001-07:002010-03-20T19:18:10.309-07:00Pregnant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-snNXxFSxrtLm7uoAPosWFg1s9ne4UGnAmxpI6l8cVhfIsHLb763rk9zyve9zt-vhhYaz7qaiCtxgFFyQZnS7BAdwbwSiyJR5VP9FwcRqUntGpLk6hZZ8IUxZ_1o2ldhgIwjktcbXi9s/s1600-h/pregnant.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-snNXxFSxrtLm7uoAPosWFg1s9ne4UGnAmxpI6l8cVhfIsHLb763rk9zyve9zt-vhhYaz7qaiCtxgFFyQZnS7BAdwbwSiyJR5VP9FwcRqUntGpLk6hZZ8IUxZ_1o2ldhgIwjktcbXi9s/s200/pregnant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450905677771773586" border="0" /></a>I began my shift, 30 minutes later in walks in the 1 person I was hoping to never see again...Goldtooth!<br /><br />He came in and sat down. I immediately made myself extremely busy in the area that was furthest away from him. After I completely ignored him for half an hour, he got up and left to my amazement. I started to think, "wow, this guy is finally getting it. I am not interested."<br /><br />I was feeling pretty good about everything and then a pregnant lady walked in. Usually I think being pregnant is very cute. This lady, on the other hand, was not at all cute. To use the words spastic would be putting it nicely.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> Do you know the number for Greyhound?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No. Sorry.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> Look at me. I bought a $4 popcorn. I paid $4 for this<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> That's a bit steep. Sorry. At least you have popcorn though<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> I don't even want it. I should have bought the $3 popcorn, but now I have to eat all of this<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I bet you can save some for later<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> I'm a mess. I paid so much money for popcorn that I don't even have. And I'm pregnant<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Sorry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> And I'm leaving my boyfriend. He got me pregnant. I'm having his baby. But I'm leaving him<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Oh<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> Should I leave him? What should I do? This is my only baby I'm going to have and it's his. I only want one baby<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>I have no idea. You should be treated well<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">P<span style="font-weight: bold;">reggers</span>:</span> I keep hoping he will show up running after me, but he won't. I have to leave him. He got me pregnant. I'm having his baby!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I'm really sorry. I hope things work out<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> And I paid $4 for this popcorn!! Do you think I can catch the greyhound in 30 minutes?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Lady, I have no idea. I wish you the best of luck<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Preggers:</span> I can't believe this. I'm leaving my boyfriend and I'm pregnant! But I love him. He's the father of this baby!<br /><br />All I know is that if that's how people get when they are pregnant, I am in absolutely no rush.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-50417655959715482232010-03-12T09:26:00.000-08:002010-03-15T11:17:59.616-07:00Garbage Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnt-BUg41Dc-V-6v7RyTq5udXYTiDXQX9EhQFghzao-TyaIsuiOMgQXQ7x2PdndTS1LBfLT7-2qFIOTRe5mFgk1GJu9IL_cUeaKSQ3Z98HO-CEz8U7YajxI9DBk32OlupC1AX_WVvWhFo/s1600-h/GarbageDay.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnt-BUg41Dc-V-6v7RyTq5udXYTiDXQX9EhQFghzao-TyaIsuiOMgQXQ7x2PdndTS1LBfLT7-2qFIOTRe5mFgk1GJu9IL_cUeaKSQ3Z98HO-CEz8U7YajxI9DBk32OlupC1AX_WVvWhFo/s200/GarbageDay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448926535323416914" border="0" /></a>Taking out the garbage is one of my all time favorite tasks. I like it for the smell, mostly, but also for the thrill of throwing a large bag into an even larger bin.<br /><br />I was down at the garbage station trying to toss in the trash bag but there was a man in front of it with all the garbage from the whole terminal. I asked if he could toss mine in for me (I was trying to be nice and give him double the thrill). He looked at me strangely and goes "is this from your car?" I thought this was funny. Why would someone have a huge trash bag in their car? I started to laugh and said no, this is from the caffe. Then I left to go back to the store. I was almost inside when I hear someone shouting "Hey!" So I turn around and look and this joker is down below shouting at me. First, I thought I was in trouble for something. Then he says<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Javon:</span> "I don't even get a name?"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Why would you get a name?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Javon:</span> Because I want one<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well not everybody gets what they want<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Javon:</span> Just tell me<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No. You can guess it?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Javon:</span> How am I supposed to guess it?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You pick a name and guess it, that's how<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Javon:</span> That's not fair<br /><br />Let me tell you a little something Javon, life's not fair. Better to learn that now rather than later. Sorry I have to be the one to teach it to you.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-30755166119000892262010-03-11T06:16:00.000-08:002010-03-18T16:53:05.093-07:00Jobs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUCk3Gg5T-dCLbJ8XgYGywHAlV6k_o_6ngvL1dYof8ZBHSiwZAvedFJj6C-tWjAQ4NOI_9HB4sXYXp27_1qjlwGjn9NSx_AU92IwPrILAA9aK-GrCMcUYXhd92wal_Xnle27ASxycL5Y/s1600-h/Crazy+Cab+Driver.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUCk3Gg5T-dCLbJ8XgYGywHAlV6k_o_6ngvL1dYof8ZBHSiwZAvedFJj6C-tWjAQ4NOI_9HB4sXYXp27_1qjlwGjn9NSx_AU92IwPrILAA9aK-GrCMcUYXhd92wal_Xnle27ASxycL5Y/s200/Crazy+Cab+Driver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450126081258425874" border="0" /></a>I love it when people talk about jobs. Either they have one or they don't. There can be many reasons for this and I like to think this my personal goal to find out the particular reasons from each customer. Today there was a short man who chatted me up for a good half hour about his numerous jobs.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> Do you like working here?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yeah, it's pretty interesting. You see a good mix of people. I was hoping for something I studied in college, but the economy's rough right now<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> What did you study?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Graphic Design and Economics<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> So what are you looking for?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I don't even know anymore. Something creative<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> I used to do IT for a huge company. I was working a lot<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: That's good<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11</span>: You need to talk to people. Tell everyone you are looking for a job. I bet you see lots of Microsoft people<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: I tell people<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> Well you should tell more. I am the best at getting jobs. Now I am a taxi driver<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well that's great.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> Yeah, I can't believe it. And I can make $100 an hour which is more than I ever made<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> That sounds good. (so how come you didn't give me a tip?)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4'11:</span> It's great being a taxi driver. I still do IT. I also used to own a business.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Aren't you the jack of all trades?<br /><br />And before I could find out more, another customer walked in to inform me of his days as a dishwasher in a restaurant. Currently he's unemployed. And also his daughter is a brat, according to him.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-78544783735092319482010-03-10T20:10:00.000-08:002010-03-15T11:08:05.348-07:00Greatness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUreRLsWMTI-R-VLMM28IMQTDyCmIk2QeiU4NLCAeAdouZW5Er0GQkep7amKgzlkhdnY0ocZUFvgh9rAc2CLpcdV8sEBK-oeecryryzlmgUieaSAHgwAwDc1UIRTLJcYNnLfDgYO3hic/s1600-h/ThinkWinner.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUreRLsWMTI-R-VLMM28IMQTDyCmIk2QeiU4NLCAeAdouZW5Er0GQkep7amKgzlkhdnY0ocZUFvgh9rAc2CLpcdV8sEBK-oeecryryzlmgUieaSAHgwAwDc1UIRTLJcYNnLfDgYO3hic/s200/ThinkWinner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448923944517372706" border="0" /></a>The best kind of greatness is the kind that is discovered. Some people are impatient and instead like to self-proclaim their greatness to anybody who is forced to listen.<br /><br />I was chosen as the listener. This customer asked me one question, not to know the answer, but as a way to start talking about himself.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag:</span> Do you like your job?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Yes I do. It's interesting<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag:</span> I don't really like it over here in the city. I have to come over to visit my girlfriend<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I bet that makes her happy<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag:</span> I just pierced her tongue<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Great<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag:</span> Yeah, I mean I already have mine pierced. I am a self-titled piercer and tattoo artist. I just got into it myself<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Nice...<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag:</span> I am also a published poet. I write poetry and it keeps getting published. I am hoping to go to school so I'll probably go to a 2 year but then this one place is offering me a full ride to go to their school because they like my work<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: I'm sure they do. Congratulations<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag</span>: But I am in a bit of trouble because I got caught pirating music but now Microsoft is threatening me to work for them because I am really good at pirating.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Seems to me you have a bright future<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sir Dbag</span>: Why are the cops all standing right there? I hate cops<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>(Well I hate you but that doesn't make you go away)<br /><br />Why? That is only question I can ask myself.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-29545025050539104852010-03-08T00:41:00.000-08:002010-03-15T10:56:54.386-07:00Reading Minds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Jrk_cuuPKd58RqYZml05Es5-vMrZ_ynf7TpXPj_Ac216sy2wPFudgyVG2-FiBoWjWyc3oe7J8BPXSJTG9jmftTu2fVrXn1Jf-5tD8dYLtkRIKVKICRlA8wIXfVrCUs_0OrakHFFcnm4/s1600-h/FortuneTeller.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Jrk_cuuPKd58RqYZml05Es5-vMrZ_ynf7TpXPj_Ac216sy2wPFudgyVG2-FiBoWjWyc3oe7J8BPXSJTG9jmftTu2fVrXn1Jf-5tD8dYLtkRIKVKICRlA8wIXfVrCUs_0OrakHFFcnm4/s200/FortuneTeller.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448921091910528114" border="0" /></a>Reading minds is a gift. I don't really think I have this gift, but I can sometimes make people think that I do. I can do this by deciding for them what they want to drink. Usually I will just guess silently in my head what someone is going to order, but sometimes I like to say out loud, "Let me guess...a white chocolate mocha!" Sometimes people say "no." Sometimes, people say, "you know, that actually does sound good." And sometimes, people just say "ok." I prefer all answers except for "no."<br /><br />Today, however, people were reading my mind instead. I say this because people brought me gifts. First I got popcorn, then I got chocolate bars, then someone brought me an order of spring rolls (they must have known I was tired of sweets), and then finally, someone brought me an entire pineapple. I like to call today "my lucky day."Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-78085162431467853982010-03-05T00:41:00.000-08:002010-03-15T10:50:52.171-07:00Gettin the Ladies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCTXD9ZfK5koxKSqPVJZ40nMaVO48MHDbGFjgwJJ-8END3BajJKtjKCMPVOKB8NT6KwHR4L3vO8zi3C8_rd-cYHZzpoLqDEdlac0czUfH29mF5E4jVyv3am3uhmq3pLiNoSjhQUe_-6Q/s1600-h/howtopickupgirlscover.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCTXD9ZfK5koxKSqPVJZ40nMaVO48MHDbGFjgwJJ-8END3BajJKtjKCMPVOKB8NT6KwHR4L3vO8zi3C8_rd-cYHZzpoLqDEdlac0czUfH29mF5E4jVyv3am3uhmq3pLiNoSjhQUe_-6Q/s200/howtopickupgirlscover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448919525588917682" border="0" /></a>I am all for relationships. I am also all for the single life. I am pretty much for whatever floats your boat. But if someone is looking for a relationship, I will be there to help.<br /><br />Today, an old man came in, and talked to me about meeting a lady. He was so cute about it, that I had to chip in and help the poor guy out. So what did I do? Helped him pick out a shirt. I figured, if after 75 years you still can't ask a girl out, then you need to exercise all your options. One of these options being a shirt. This way he can advertise what kind of girl he wants and instead of having to approach someone, they can flock to him. Of course, if he looked like Brad Pitt it might be a bit easier, but everybody has different taste. So, what kind of shirt did I pick out for him? One that said "I like my coffee strong, my women sweet." He seemed pretty confident with it on, so I am just waiting for him to come back in with his new girlfriend to tell me thanks.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-9282658992086408122010-03-04T14:57:00.001-08:002010-03-15T10:42:34.742-07:00Peeing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6R-MBmormEwCcSE0Uxcoh5uQmWn-NNtIcJEFZL6MF7MNIR35glEmhdRsyo2gjzt1OxfprmOgZEmQ-zO5LJlVVDVwLUzL_65p-R7c_GWB4MhfGaFglcEC_ySkHmr93hlcQ_oGGpCAIL8/s1600-h/HomelessPeeing.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6R-MBmormEwCcSE0Uxcoh5uQmWn-NNtIcJEFZL6MF7MNIR35glEmhdRsyo2gjzt1OxfprmOgZEmQ-zO5LJlVVDVwLUzL_65p-R7c_GWB4MhfGaFglcEC_ySkHmr93hlcQ_oGGpCAIL8/s200/HomelessPeeing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448917285181562610" border="0" /></a>A normal person has a fine time going pee. This doesn't seem like something difficult to do. But to some people, it can be very hard. And usually to those same people, it can also be a topic of conversation.<br /><br />As I was walking to work, I was greeted by my homeless friend, Larry, who wanted to walk with me to work. As we walked, he talked to me about peeing. I had no idea what he was talking about but he was very animated about the whole thing, so I thought I should be polite and look interested.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> Heya stranger<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hey Larry, how's it going today?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> You know how hard it is to go pee these days?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I didn't know that<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> Yeah, you can't always pee in the same spot<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yeah...<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> Sometimes you just have to pee on yourself because you can't make it to the bathroom<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> That doesn't sound good<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> But then you are warm<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Alright (trying to escape)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry</span>: I tell that to the other guys. Sometimes you just have to go in your pants<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Good luck Larry. I've got to run. I hope that you can work out a better bathroom system<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Larry:</span> Haha yeah. I know. Oh well. See you tonight!<br /><br />I thought I escaped to the caffe safely, but then Phoenix was there. Then he handed me my poem.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-31578966595671093162010-03-02T23:56:00.000-08:002010-03-15T10:30:32.877-07:00Awkward<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHHPiTvipoB230FP0mLcywnN8qtFE52aSv2VP23TOIfMe3Y59cDTnhyphenhyphenIluG1mdGKXYds-U462gDdg3o7yuDAeTYEPV8fEThlQNqr6hovxiEOJ3MgIVDSD1-rACpcDpaCHKgd6I6KonGg/s1600-h/AwkwardCop.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCHHPiTvipoB230FP0mLcywnN8qtFE52aSv2VP23TOIfMe3Y59cDTnhyphenhyphenIluG1mdGKXYds-U462gDdg3o7yuDAeTYEPV8fEThlQNqr6hovxiEOJ3MgIVDSD1-rACpcDpaCHKgd6I6KonGg/s200/AwkwardCop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448914275182557730" border="0" /></a>There are lots of awkward people in this world. There are also people who like to make awkward situations. And then there are professions that breed awkward people. One of these professions is police work. The police in uniforms tend to be the most awkward. It's almost as if they have no idea how to act when wearing a gun belt and/or bulletproof vest.<br /><br />I thought that my awkward days were over, but I was wrong. I was working on my computer and trying to look as involved in my work as possible. This didn't seem to phase the police officer who kept standing at the counter just watching me. No, he didn't want a coffee. He just wanted to stand there and try to make conversation. I knew I was doomed after he told me he had no friends. For the time being, we will call him Phoenix.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> What are you doing?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I'm working. What are YOU doing?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> I'm bored<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Shouldn't you be doing work too?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> I thought I would come over and say hi. Try to make some friends<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Hi. I'm trying to apply for jobs. You have a whole world out there to make friends with<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> Oh! What kind of jobs?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> All sorts. I never have time to do it so it's nice right now<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> Yeah, I know how that goes. So what kind of jobs?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Something creative<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> I used to write poetry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Fascinating. Then write me a poem<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix: </span>Maybe<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well, it's my birthday soon, so why don't you go think about a poem and get back to me when you finish it<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> What are you working on right now?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> A book<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> That sounds cool.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Maybe you should go try to write a book and make friends at the same time<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> How am I supposed to meet people? It's hard<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You have to do stuff to meet people<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix:</span> Like what?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Anything...volunteer, sports, at your JOB<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Phoenix: </span>Nobody wants to hang out<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I wonder why...<br /><br />Well Phoenix, good luck with that. Maybe if you didn't bother people when they are trying to work, you would have an easier time trying to make friends.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-55063947971458797452010-03-01T17:30:00.000-08:002010-03-15T10:16:29.326-07:00Guess who's back?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxIlRmvLbxLt70tfKMYMdR_R1MdHSBPviA_lKbAYZLn2nCJLUjca_Gcc2xIaLF8MbSiJmIZ_odlP45U2KSEBcjsmYjZnW3vt_zhwprpOTKrniXJtTibyga0BrociB_sjXLw-z6BaU99o/s1600-h/DogPrincess.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxIlRmvLbxLt70tfKMYMdR_R1MdHSBPviA_lKbAYZLn2nCJLUjca_Gcc2xIaLF8MbSiJmIZ_odlP45U2KSEBcjsmYjZnW3vt_zhwprpOTKrniXJtTibyga0BrociB_sjXLw-z6BaU99o/s200/DogPrincess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448910681268837666" border="0" /></a>If you guessed Goldtooth, you are wrong. If you guess Silver Fox, you would be correct. He came in special today to visit me. As usual, he stayed and chatted for a bit, until a friend called out to him. Instead of leaving, he called his friend over into the caffe and brought me another customer. What a guy. Then he called me a princess. After that, I remember nothing.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-85287685401862720882010-02-26T21:32:00.000-08:002010-03-15T10:10:27.252-07:00Naked Pictures<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbzCYOG3sXXXxtmeqj4hdWAG0Z6kKC64_SPLU0afH0ES-zl6JqH04nxAgsusE8PnwyaZdIcwjkN-Xrf1xgK98ailrjyPRA9cAWnVRM2TbrkCWtcQowjCg-dmySh3hhBdDPEDzh8haHXM/s1600-h/NakedFamily.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbzCYOG3sXXXxtmeqj4hdWAG0Z6kKC64_SPLU0afH0ES-zl6JqH04nxAgsusE8PnwyaZdIcwjkN-Xrf1xgK98ailrjyPRA9cAWnVRM2TbrkCWtcQowjCg-dmySh3hhBdDPEDzh8haHXM/s200/NakedFamily.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448909110054764002" border="0" /></a>I like to make my transactions as fast as possible. I do this for a few reasons:<br /><br />1) I work by myself so I have to<br />2) I don't want people talking to me for too long<br />3) I don't want to have awkward moments<br /><br />I was making this man his drink. I rang it up so he would have time to get his money ready while I was finishing his drink. He had a different idea in mind and wanted to take as long as possible. In his doing this, I handed him his drink while he left his wallet open on the counter. Instead of rushing to get his money out, he just sat there staring into space long enough for me to notice the picture sitting on top of his money. This picture showed him with his children naked laying across a sheet in some photography studio. To me, this just seemed wrong. At least Anne Geddes dresses the naked babies up like fruits, trees, or vegetables.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-54357724503486923182010-02-24T23:31:00.003-08:002010-03-15T10:02:27.392-07:00Caffeine Overdose<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr2PLB9TbeGUE-iN5bCAfxXqi8L1FeJ4O1EtkK9nPwrlZ4C5az-73z__bmipTCeGMQjI8-FYe9LQju7MmMdxeeH-CLbEikLeZQs7T3NaWND0MQDiy7kOdJg8txtuwCxA3FhlsB3nrTSo/s1600-h/coffeeOverdose.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOr2PLB9TbeGUE-iN5bCAfxXqi8L1FeJ4O1EtkK9nPwrlZ4C5az-73z__bmipTCeGMQjI8-FYe9LQju7MmMdxeeH-CLbEikLeZQs7T3NaWND0MQDiy7kOdJg8txtuwCxA3FhlsB3nrTSo/s200/coffeeOverdose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448907045259713234" border="0" /></a>I don't really think there is something as too much caffeine but maybe there is something called caffeine overdose. Since I've grown up on coffee, I figure I am immune to the effects of caffeine. But sometimes, I like to push the limits and see what happens. I think coffee is better than alcohol in this way because you don't wake up feeling sick.<br /><br />Today, I was feeling a bit overtired so instead of my usual caffeine intake, I added an extra cup of coffee and 4 extra shots of espresso. This, at the time, seemed like a great idea. Once all of it hit my system, I quickly realized that maybe this wasn't the best thing to do. I was having a lot of fun, but I think some of the customers were taken aback.<br /><br />Number of times I got asked if I was drunk: 4<br />Number of times people asked me where I was hiding the bottle of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kahlua</span>: 3<br />Number of times I started to laugh for no reason: 10<br />Number of times I dropped something in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">caffe</span>: 6<br />Number of times I scared a customer: Every time<br /><br />Hey, at least I found myself amusing. Will I do it again? Probably.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-3086244918849025512010-02-24T23:31:00.001-08:002010-03-15T09:47:26.207-07:00Back in Action<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkltUuydH75agNK3I03lPgQr7VDrD_h6Ufx7GodbMZR1nghf7vlpDjafI0nuTq6bbvukmCxpjhc7GFDud57f-EvggYHkKD8ubn6A8wk3QGx9JHpbcKu6W32cCPiM-Pqg3LjFQMeTq6wM/s1600-h/sellingNewspapers.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkltUuydH75agNK3I03lPgQr7VDrD_h6Ufx7GodbMZR1nghf7vlpDjafI0nuTq6bbvukmCxpjhc7GFDud57f-EvggYHkKD8ubn6A8wk3QGx9JHpbcKu6W32cCPiM-Pqg3LjFQMeTq6wM/s200/sellingNewspapers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448903154754857442" border="0" /></a>I see thousands of people on a daily basis, and lots of times, I see the same people. For some reason, I hadn't seen newspaper man for quite some time. I thought, maybe he has gotten sick? Maybe he learned to talk and got a job doing something else? Maybe he has gone on to become a model for flared jeans? But all these questions didn't need to go on unanswered for too much longer because he was back in action today. I tried to ask where he had been.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Where have you been?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Newspaper Guy:</span> Ouwa in yanow me<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hmmm, right<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Newspaper Guy</span>: Upsairs!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Newspaper Guy:</span> Sunay papah go up<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Newspaper Guy:</span> Yeah<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Good to know<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Newspaper Guy:</span> You upsairs! Papa Sunay<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>NO!<br /><br />And looks like we are right back where we left off.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-71833437438695958272010-02-22T22:13:00.001-08:002010-03-15T09:37:01.111-07:00Verbal Handcuffs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf-0CqVQCVRj2GiEgyv9lU8bg7gIqGqLbEBxCLnpFw4xsEJzM6gSgLk5sKywKaKdjtvlWIbqKRCOwWxldleMNT2C87N3bUCWY6blChz1321XpxvextmUkdvUlhs3_c90_aZVrv1wodyY/s1600-h/Stuck.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf-0CqVQCVRj2GiEgyv9lU8bg7gIqGqLbEBxCLnpFw4xsEJzM6gSgLk5sKywKaKdjtvlWIbqKRCOwWxldleMNT2C87N3bUCWY6blChz1321XpxvextmUkdvUlhs3_c90_aZVrv1wodyY/s200/Stuck.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448900469892144706" border="0" /></a>"Verbal Handcuffs" is a concept that I am well versed in working at the caffe. Most people don't know what this means, but you should.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Verbal Handcuffs:</span><br />When someone won't stop talking (usually about a subject you have no interest in).<br />The talker has verbally forced you to stand there and listen, even though you have given many clues that you have checked out.<br /><br />Even though I am at work and have many excuses to escape customers, I never seem to be able to do it gracefully. I get stuck in verbal handcuffs more often than not. I try to give lots of clues to let them know that I am no longer paying attention. Some of these clues consist of:<br /><br />- counting money<br />- washing dishes<br />- closing my eyes<br />- moving to the farthest corner in the caffe<br />- pick up the phone and pretend to be giving someone information<br />- turning the music up<br /><br />For some reasons, these clues will usually go unnoticed. Someone will ask me to please lower the music because it's hard for them to talk over the music. Some will shout to me from across the caffe. No matter how many times I say "what? I can't hear you" they don't give up.<br /><br />The worst is when someone purposefully misses their ride so they can hang out with me for an extra hour. And that is exactly what happened today. Maybe I should invest in a taser?Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-2525453633672231392010-02-21T22:11:00.001-08:002010-03-15T09:26:09.970-07:00How are you?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCWus09YmnS-XuQAJ0Yeaq3Fs2vepgdwafU8NptqIR6PvYpLDi8TKZui7rNvLLArX-92re8kODmjLw_wM_6168UwHhXvijzwh_KHZSBA7wshydZ4PDvYLz8nfo7vRaCuehhNLvyjCF-I/s1600-h/birdPoop.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCWus09YmnS-XuQAJ0Yeaq3Fs2vepgdwafU8NptqIR6PvYpLDi8TKZui7rNvLLArX-92re8kODmjLw_wM_6168UwHhXvijzwh_KHZSBA7wshydZ4PDvYLz8nfo7vRaCuehhNLvyjCF-I/s200/birdPoop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448896803766810002" border="0" /></a>I like to think the most common question asked besides "can I get your phone number?" is "how are you?" Because the common knowledge behind this question is that the person asking doesn't really want to know the answer, you should always answer briefly and somewhat positively.<br /><br /><br />Some examples of good answers to this question are:<br /><br /><br />- fine<br />- I'm doing well<br />- Great<br />- Excellent<br />- Alright<br />- ok<br />- Tired<br /><br />This question, in my opinion, is asked mostly to be polite. Most people don't really care about the answer unless they are your friend. In some cases, they may care but don't have the time to hear it. That is why most people answer with one word. Keeps things short and simple without getting too involved in someone else's business. Unfortunately for me, this concept goes over more peoples heads than I would like. I tend to get longer answers or just people talking about how bad their day was, even if I have a line of customers after them. My favorite answer came today from a middle-aged woman. She was clearly having a rough day, maybe even month.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> How are you?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> I guess I could always be dead<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> That doesn't sound too good<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> Well it isn't<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I'm sorry to hear that<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> Everything is going wrong. I missed my bus, I've been traveling all day, they messed up my lunch order, and now I have to wait here for another hour<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well, at least you get to have a nice cup of coffee and enjoy the view<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> No, that's not what I want to do<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I hope you can find something you want to do. Hey, you didn't get pooped on by a bird. That's always a good thing right?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> I want to get out of here<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Okay, well good luck. I hope the rest of your day goes better<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady:</span> It won'tCoffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-51151381228070996022010-02-20T17:55:00.000-08:002010-03-15T09:10:13.916-07:00Cheeseburgers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQGMIDRcS4Cq2CmPpt8OKv0I0vIz6-GeTWPEn3NIrwFaS6nuR189xcKmu9E0xevJbc_O_NntmNAi5NY3TKItisSAauVWhCh-WkGhcAWxLiiErif3cdSCiy0SMdarqLgBOFHKZA_tHlPE/s1600-h/chihuahuaCheeseburger.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQGMIDRcS4Cq2CmPpt8OKv0I0vIz6-GeTWPEn3NIrwFaS6nuR189xcKmu9E0xevJbc_O_NntmNAi5NY3TKItisSAauVWhCh-WkGhcAWxLiiErif3cdSCiy0SMdarqLgBOFHKZA_tHlPE/s200/chihuahuaCheeseburger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448893115975730002" border="0" /></a>There are lots of things the caffe sells. There are lots of things any caffe sells, and these things usually fall all into the same genre. Pastries such as scones, muffins, croissants, and cinnamon rolls. There are even desserts like cookies, donuts, and cakes. If you are hungry, there are more savory options as well. These tend to be more on the "elegant" side of things like little sandwiches, quiches, etc. We, on the other hand, like to be different in that we also sell hot dogs. I suppose one might assume we also sell cheeseburgers, but that is wrong. We do not and will not sell those ever.<br /><br />A lady came in today. She looked a bit frazzled. I thought she was talking to me at first, but then I realized she was talking to herself. I didn't question it since I get these kinds of people a lot. She starts to talk to me about a football stadium, nothing about the sport, just the stadium, and then orders an ice cream. I scoop it and hand her a cup of ice cream when she starts to act completely absurd. She can't find her wallet then takes out a little key and starts trying to "unlock" her purse. I am not sure she understood the concept of a purse and that one usually is not locked. Maybe a suitcase, but definitely not a purse. Once she figured out the key wasn't working, she asked if she could just come back and pay me another time. I'm sorry lady, but I don't think that's how a business works. And then she told me that she would like a cheeseburger at the stadium. I told her I'm sure she could find a cheeseburger there. She looked at me, proceeded to put on bright red lipstick, and then walked off talking about her cheeseburger.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-49300944550807064172010-02-19T23:08:00.000-08:002010-02-21T22:58:31.094-08:00Pity<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrH_xNR_x10D1e4qAbVg3LZeOl1Dd9jQepMZ3VW9Hw8V3wi6yosYG45X9fusmQDCdHPYzDasEII3wa3CIc5T-2nUi8Jo7UMEOucg-SHTvF-GiJjoPTrJL9asfuitu540jTM_Mmkp4FXA/s1600-h/FlirtyBarista.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrH_xNR_x10D1e4qAbVg3LZeOl1Dd9jQepMZ3VW9Hw8V3wi6yosYG45X9fusmQDCdHPYzDasEII3wa3CIc5T-2nUi8Jo7UMEOucg-SHTvF-GiJjoPTrJL9asfuitu540jTM_Mmkp4FXA/s200/FlirtyBarista.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440958466648989714" border="0" /></a>There are lots of things you can say to a girl to make her feel good. Some of these examples are:<br /><br />- You look absolutely beautiful today<br />- You make me want to be a better person<br />- When I'm with you, I lose track of time<br />- I can go to any caffe but I like coming here because you make me happy<br /><br />On the other hand, there are lots of other things you can say to make her feel not so great about herself.<br /><br />- Have you been eating too many of the pastries lately?<br />- You look really tired<br />- I pity the man who marries you<br /><br />Now guess which comment was said to me? If you guess "I pity the man who marries you," then you would be correct. He quickly followed it up with, "he will have to put up with you and all your flirting." I am not sure if he was trying to make up for the previous comment or just wanted to continue making me feel like a real princess.<br /><br />Then he brought me chocolate truffles. And chocolate doesn't solve problems, but I was craving it, so this time it did.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-62836700005321106282010-02-18T14:55:00.001-08:002010-02-21T22:59:17.451-08:00a Sequence of Events<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Eq6o41w8PCqz_t1NUO2wyldx1jGeVAXqUQIME_ZBKW3yug0gh_4165S4vUdeitANfkI6TlMcaG_IBt8nA5l9TR1xeDBeElIa24R0kcMMQ12KQX1IQEkzDTs5yeu0guawNK5Wq7_EcNU/s1600-h/HomelessLarry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Eq6o41w8PCqz_t1NUO2wyldx1jGeVAXqUQIME_ZBKW3yug0gh_4165S4vUdeitANfkI6TlMcaG_IBt8nA5l9TR1xeDBeElIa24R0kcMMQ12KQX1IQEkzDTs5yeu0guawNK5Wq7_EcNU/s200/HomelessLarry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440952560935837426" border="0" /></a>1) Homeless Larry showed up today as I was walking to work. He decided to walk with me. As he smoked on his cigar (don't ask me where he bought that), he talked to me about the going-ons around the street that day. I had just missed a fight between a lady and a set of cups. The lady was screaming, then she got a cup of chowder, then the cops told her to calm down, then she threw her cup of clam chowder in a cop's face. I didn't quite get the rest of the story because I was entering the caffe and Larry has a restraining order.<br /><br />2) Panamanian Disguise gave me another present. Among the shirt, loofah, place mat, and hat, today he brought me jicama. I asked for steak and lobster. I think jicama is pretty close, especially when topped with a lime.<br /><br />3) I get a phone call at the caffe 30 minutes after I closed. This person wanted cannolis. I told them that I had already closed. That didn't matter to them because they REALLY wanted the cannolis. I, being in a nice mood, told them that I would hold off on closing out the register and make them their cannolis. Though I was trying to be nice, I also thought this would mean a big tip. I made the guy 6 cannolis, then he paid with a credit card. I looked at the receipt...no tip. I was about to be pissed but then I saw him reach for his wallet. I thought I would be getting at least a fiver. But then instead of money, he handed me his business card, "owner of a luxury car service." And instead of any sort of tip, he said "here, let me give you my business card. Why ride in a taxi when you can go in a Mercedes or jaguar?" He better have meant I would be getting a free ride to somewhere far away.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-85019210014317747292010-02-17T16:07:00.000-08:002010-02-21T22:10:35.946-08:00Radiation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0VyxPv_uIGAhFPHy9AASP8o-IAejTioISu98SzlQ9CZrm2Lm0Nso2VG79pauG9iHPv6QyDbZpSnN1y5mUzCUU65G0IFJmdyuOfMJjjHHT2WEBXNG907dwk3LQPc7b5cqhYRpjoMNAnM/s1600-h/Radiation.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0VyxPv_uIGAhFPHy9AASP8o-IAejTioISu98SzlQ9CZrm2Lm0Nso2VG79pauG9iHPv6QyDbZpSnN1y5mUzCUU65G0IFJmdyuOfMJjjHHT2WEBXNG907dwk3LQPc7b5cqhYRpjoMNAnM/s200/Radiation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440946237601811954" border="0" /></a>I learned all about radiation today. I didn't know how it worked or who got it but a man enlightened me while I was making his coffee, and then more after his coffee was finished. He explained that he needed an extra large coffee because he hadn't slept in over 24 hours.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Oh wow, that's a long time. Lots of work?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> Not really. I just am not supposed to sleep for 36 hours.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Oh. That's weird. I couldn't do that<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> Yeah, if I fall asleep, and the radiation hits, then I could die, so I have to be awake.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I am not sure I understand<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> I am going through radiation. You don't really know when it's going to happen so you are required to stay awake for 36 hours<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok. That makes sense (not really)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> So I have another day to go without sleeping<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I definitely couldn't do that<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> I have medicine I can take to stay awake too<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well isn't that convenient? At least you can be extra productive<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> Yeah, I guess so. But it's hard when you are so tired.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I'm sorry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ray:</span> This radiation...blah blah blah blah<br /><br />Now, I am not sure if I heard everything correctly. I may or may not have zoned out after he said the word "radiation," but all I know is that radiation is not for me.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-25514938909692590012010-02-16T13:25:00.001-08:002010-02-21T21:45:11.237-08:00Reflections<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjXQ1aNR4BJBqvTmGmY0XMv6dvnHC5UQv9sIfL-3gI4OGT5rEhZXcLqI2ZQo3eCtgSP5iMrf8hLvMqMSu63Iv_uW0mVMstsUa25PqvbKvTALzqZyGFer-lsqGwI4nHgBdLdYpSi0J34w/s1600-h/reflections.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjXQ1aNR4BJBqvTmGmY0XMv6dvnHC5UQv9sIfL-3gI4OGT5rEhZXcLqI2ZQo3eCtgSP5iMrf8hLvMqMSu63Iv_uW0mVMstsUa25PqvbKvTALzqZyGFer-lsqGwI4nHgBdLdYpSi0J34w/s200/reflections.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440939725682461746" border="0" /></a>There is that song by Christina Aguilera in Mulan called Reflections, but that's not the "reflection" I'm talking about. I love watching people check out themselves. I find it so entertaining. I wonder if people think nobody else can see them readjusting their outfit, or other things for that matter. I know for sure that I am always on the lookout. I wasn't even on the lookout today when I came across a lady checking herself out. I thought she was coming for a coffee. But then as I approached her, I realized that she was not looking at a menu or in the caffe. She was actually just checking out her reflection. She had enough time to fix her hair before I approached. She got all flustered and walked away, but not before she checked herself out one last time. The caffe must look like a one-sided window, like the kind they have in jail. If only it were, then my job would be EVEN more interesting.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-65662482537170693832010-02-15T13:25:00.000-08:002010-02-21T18:48:44.938-08:00Explosions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_DuI929u5-YigD_O7HL7n3ieG5ww4VHQ3puD5d4YHQbaUBj1lfhbLW7gdfshcqhRW1-B5QfT0kiL_WrSRNskvcQCO2eaQoW1v15-7xJbq9ueaunljInraQTabMX4gZG-bHDrTq-jJEc/s1600-h/coffeeExplosion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_DuI929u5-YigD_O7HL7n3ieG5ww4VHQ3puD5d4YHQbaUBj1lfhbLW7gdfshcqhRW1-B5QfT0kiL_WrSRNskvcQCO2eaQoW1v15-7xJbq9ueaunljInraQTabMX4gZG-bHDrTq-jJEc/s200/coffeeExplosion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440894256336926818" border="0" /></a>Explosions are only good in the form of fireworks. I can't really think of another type of explosion that is fun to have. I wish that I could bring fireworks into the caffe so that way I could make certain customers feel very special. Just imagine if I could surprise customers with fireworks every time they did a good job ordering. I have this feeling that sales would increase immensely once it caught on.<br /><br />Today, however, I didn't have fireworks. Instead I had a coffee explosion. And no, it's not what you are thinking. I didn't put the filter in tight enough and when I tried to pour the shot, the filter flew off and I had coffee grounds all over. All over, meaning all over my face. And because I had a line, I didn't have time to clean it off. I think people started to tip me extra just because they were feeling sorry for me. Sad.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-75507475035340396822010-02-13T21:54:00.000-08:002010-02-21T18:26:04.997-08:00Japan!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJQwwu2_iae9uIOasqO_53g_EqeVzCC5xsaI_08t9jvu2dGsn5gCGxhGt4mOMM_4elxqYNzton8RtLBekzQg1md4OtFwZYT2wAmbkelUU1nP3ljQZBxVccQatzt3HExIxeIATnSxaR68/s1600-h/JapaneseGirl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJQwwu2_iae9uIOasqO_53g_EqeVzCC5xsaI_08t9jvu2dGsn5gCGxhGt4mOMM_4elxqYNzton8RtLBekzQg1md4OtFwZYT2wAmbkelUU1nP3ljQZBxVccQatzt3HExIxeIATnSxaR68/s200/JapaneseGirl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440888383659224034" border="0" /></a>I love Japan. I love everything Japanese (well, almost everything).<br /><br />I love<br />- peace signs<br />- sushi<br />- Samurais<br />- Sumo wrestling<br />- Japanese characters<br />- the fact that you can buy food in a 7-Eleven and it's normal<br /><br />The 1 thing I don't like<br />- wasting $20 on a vending machine in an arcade trying to win a key chain of a stuffed bean. (Don't worry, it had a cute face on it)<br /><br />Today a cute little Japanese girl walked into the caffe. She was nervous ordering, but she did it. She ordered a large coffee. I wanted to make sure everything was ok, so I checked on her at the cream counter, but she was talking with her friend. It looked like she was trying to figure out how to say "you have something on your face." When she finished, she came back over to the counter and did the same sort of motion to me. I started to to rub my face and she started to look confused. Then she was finally able to muster up "you have a very pretty smile." Then she smiled, waved and walked away. Cutest girl ever. Man, I love Japan.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-89686271323577162862010-02-12T00:03:00.001-08:002010-02-20T18:30:48.912-08:00Perceptions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbQM-kx3VDf55ItVfgPCv9qqNXoKq2Mh-lYrrK9DZIqdwAlFoU4oXg-R3dy_axgpF8pvIGhAHQcBLwQLdMvuiScOtpJp_-Os7IQ3Rt0oUNs4R6zD4Bfihz2qHN3bCbsj9B0I38dPrb7Q/s1600-h/womenSeminar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbQM-kx3VDf55ItVfgPCv9qqNXoKq2Mh-lYrrK9DZIqdwAlFoU4oXg-R3dy_axgpF8pvIGhAHQcBLwQLdMvuiScOtpJp_-Os7IQ3Rt0oUNs4R6zD4Bfihz2qHN3bCbsj9B0I38dPrb7Q/s200/womenSeminar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440518544139043090" border="0" /></a>I like to think that I give off a certain vibe, that my own perception of myself is the same as other peoples. I must be totally off because I'm starting to think people see me differently than I see myself. I only realized that when people started to give me handouts of things they think I might like to do. The best handout was the one I received today about a women's seminar on spiritual healing and living. I went through a mental checklist of things that might attract a person to this<br /><br />- hemp clothing<br />- yoga<br />- meditation<br />- drugs<br />- no shaving<br />- butterfly tattoos<br />- mystical creatures<br /><br />I don't really do anything in this checklist, though I did attempt yoga for a couple months. I acted grateful for the information and pretended to be interested. Needless to say, I didn't attend. Almost.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-67635679583285775782010-02-09T14:20:00.000-08:002010-02-21T17:46:29.473-08:00the DUI<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCdZ0VE_SmGS-9NHlh274NJ_QdL4t6GMDBHHDyi1EF_1mm0h7wgKn5GV2hG23mBKDHgDAc34mOvW8U6Gnbk4XeJgtI3qj3IxyQ_uQrj-tZpr5LOIwwBMTFktmFP4GICZyCE_Su2Z2J34/s1600-h/DUI.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCdZ0VE_SmGS-9NHlh274NJ_QdL4t6GMDBHHDyi1EF_1mm0h7wgKn5GV2hG23mBKDHgDAc34mOvW8U6Gnbk4XeJgtI3qj3IxyQ_uQrj-tZpr5LOIwwBMTFktmFP4GICZyCE_Su2Z2J34/s200/DUI.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440878137930869234" border="0" /></a>There are things that are embarrassing and/or shameful. I like to keep these things to myself. Other people, apparently like to share these little tidbits.<br /><br />When working in the customer service industry, one tends to ask questions to be polite. I always like to make small talk with people. I don't usually expect honest answers. I especially don't want to hear an honest answer if it's complaining about something.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Hi, How are you?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe:</span> I'm just alright. Getting ready for a long day<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Oh yeah? I know those well<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe:</span> Probably not the kind I'm about to have<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hmmmm, maybe not<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe:</span> Yeah, my day is going to be horrible<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I am very sorry to hear that. Whip cream?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe</span>: I'm really going to need all I can get for what's going to come<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Well how about I throw in an extra shot of espresso for you<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe</span>: That would be nice. Maybe it will make the next 6 hours go by faster<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I hope so<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe:</span> So, do you know what I have to do<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> (I was trying not to hear...)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe:</span> I have to go to a DUI class. I got a DUI a bit ago so I have to sit through a class with a bunch of drunks.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> (Aren't you one of them too?)<br /><br />And for me, none of this needed to be said. He could have stopped right before DUI class. But thank god he didn't. I might have stayed up at night wondering what he was going to do after he got the coffee.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6677918105128601742.post-2267591090412531502010-02-02T15:02:00.000-08:002010-02-18T14:55:16.919-08:00Holding Hands<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuIvpnTxUgZKbUbYmM3Y_dQKB-9TOFW1wXnGhUByDiJJYpN5Td0B-Mjt8FFaC0DCifPK22vJXYbD8NnFUuBKK7iYdK2bo-9SGgBVHsdK5puNDI2iRNZpgUK-UA95elEINGqkYMNpMmeo/s1600-h/holding-hands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuIvpnTxUgZKbUbYmM3Y_dQKB-9TOFW1wXnGhUByDiJJYpN5Td0B-Mjt8FFaC0DCifPK22vJXYbD8NnFUuBKK7iYdK2bo-9SGgBVHsdK5puNDI2iRNZpgUK-UA95elEINGqkYMNpMmeo/s200/holding-hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439050849026515490" border="0" /></a>As we all know, I am not a big fan of PDA. It makes me uncomfortable, unless I am the one partaking, then I think it's ok. In my opinion, holding hands can be considered a form of PDA. This is only considered bad when inflicted upon someone involuntarily. Today I involuntarily acted in a PDA. This unfortunately took place with newspaper guy. He paid for his coke with a dollar bill and as he handed it to me, he grabbed my hand and held it. I didn't have any words except for a silent scream. When he finally let go, he walked off smiling. That's when I noticed his high waters. I think that I prefer his flared jeans. Another thing I prefer is that he doesn't touch me.Coffee Princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00920111692446010298noreply@blogger.com0