Many years ago, Tina was a barista (under paid coffee slave at an overpriced coffee shop) for a time. Back in those days I still lived under some delusion that I might do something awesome that required me to be social and know cool cat things like wine and coffee. I thought that I would some day be out with important people and get to the Starbucks and have to order a drink and either have to string some words together and try to cover my ignorance or just say “I want you to take some coffee and put a lot of crap in it so I can get a sugar buzz along with my coffee high.”
I admitted my coffee anxiety to Tina and she taught me how to order a coffee drink. The conversation literally went like this:
Tina: Okay, when you get to the barista say these words to her, you ready for it?
Selina: I am ready, teach me your coffee ways Jedi Coffee master. (Okay I didn’t say anything this cool. I probably said “Yeah,” but this is my motherflipping blog so I can change the past to make me seem cooler than I am if I want to damnit.)
Tina: Venti
Selina: Venti
Tina: Triple Shot
Selina: (sigh) Triple Shot. I know that has nothing to do with booze.
Tina: Caramel Macchiato (I repeat) Breve (I repeat) Upside down (I repeat) That should get you a coffee you like.
Selina: I have no idea what those words mean.
Tina: (Explains it in her super smart Tina way)
Selina: *blank look* Kay, Kay magic got it.
I can proudly say that it only took me like seven months to learn what all those words mean. Now I can order a coffee in a Starbucks like a goddamn boss, but only if it is that one drink.
I never did learn much about wine, except that I have extremely cheap white trash taste in wine. It works out because there is no way I am going to ever be around important or impressive people, so I can drink my Wild Vines wine with glee.
This kind of kills my will to live.
I feel like I should be able to get the herp from just looking at this picture.
The only thing that makes me okay with this picture is the internet is making fun of it. If this is hot, I am okay with being me. I think they skipped the implants and just put in those bouncy balls you can get from those huge wire bins at Wal-Mart. I bet if you smack them really hard, they still make that oddly satisfying ‘boing’ sound and bounce off her rib cage back into her face.
I am a terrible, awful person. I know this.
I bet they both have fantastic personalities. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go get some antibiotics for my eye syphilis.
Geeks a Geeking