it happened again this morning. the usual shit of my usual daily life these days. i went to starbucks to grab a cup of joe for my drive into the dreaded inland empire this morning. a planned quick trip in order to slip into the slip stream of morning bound west traffic for my ride back here in hopes of missing the mad crush of commuters. amazingly that deal sorta worked out. but that’s not the fucking point. or why i’m here.
the fucking point is, starbucks. well, not them so much, but the dim witted assholes who just go in the place, or any other place for that matter, to clog shit up. they stand there in line hemming and hawing then finally want some damn thing or another that juan valdez never dreamed of even in a peruvian flake, with a bottle of mescal added, induced nightmare. some one sent me george carlin’s new rules for the 21st century or something, several months back. the douch bags in a coffee line are right up there on top of the list. it’s a coffee shop for crying out loud. order a fucking cup of joe and get the fuck out of the damn way. yes, maybe i drink too much of the stuff but what the fuck? i don’t know. that’s another drift for another time.
there’s always one of the line cloggers there doing what they do best. clogging stuff up. this morning’s version was the gold standard of line clogging. two young, fairly good looking, well dressed, but borderline gross fat mexican babes. they may have even been sisters. i don’t know. they looked related. they are yammering away enjoying being off in the neverland of line clogging like they were the only assholes in the store. it takes several minutes for them to decide just what sort of concoction they want. one asks the other if she wants something to eat. amazingly she says, no. then a few seconds later it dawns on her she may starve to death today so she wanders over to look at the food selection. she finally finds something she wants after picking everything up in the refrigerated display area. all the while the line is getting longer and cloggier. at this point the other one, who is paying for the stuff, realizes she left her purse in the car. sweet mother of god, girl, how in buddha’s name did you make it this far in life without someone strangling you? of course that really throws the time warp continuum into a dither of mind boggling line clogging. the starbucks guy can’t open the other register to at least move the line along while ms fatone is off looking for her wallet. i’m the next person in line. the dude looks at me and says, ‘sorry, it’s going to be a few more minutes.’ my reply was, ‘fuck this.’ then i left.
i didn’t get my extra jolt of joe this morning. maybe i should just make more here instead of going out and putting up with the vapid line cloggers. doesn’t matter though. whenever i do go out i’m always in the wrong line or the wrong some damn thing or another. it always seems to be just another asshole magnet day.