The Cool Kids Go To Starbucks. Apparently.
Having turned into somewhat of a caffeine and candy junkie (with no damage to my waistline—will the fat appear all at once?) I made the executive decision to institute a daily 3pm chocolate and caffeine break. Today my usual coffee place was out of coffee (I had not been aware that was possible) so I intrepidly headed off to the nearest Starbucks.
After ordering my venti coffee and feeling ridiculous as I said “Venti,” I stepped to the side to wait. I was gnawing at my very expensive Rice Krispie treat like a wild animal, (there is just no other way to eat it), when a voice to the side of me said brightly “You look just like Sienna Miller.”
Mouth full, and clothes speckled with tiny crumbs, I turned around to see what idiot actually thought I looked like Sienna. Instead of the balding, overweight, leering man I had expected, it was a gorgeous, borderline well-known artist.
I recognized him not because I am that culturally cool but because Ex-Boyfriend once dragged me to an exhibit featuring his work. I spent the night drinking wine out of a plastic cup and staring at the cute guy with freckles who looked like he didn’t want to be there either. When I casually pointed at him and asked if Ex-Boyfriend knew who he was, Ex-Boyfriend replied “I think he’s the artist,” and I suddenly became more interested in the art.
Now, the freakishly tiny island of Manhattan had given me a chance to say something witty and captivating to the object of my art gallery lust.
I chewed a bit, then mumbled “Before the hair cut?” It was the best I could do under such pressure. He smiled as if I had said something very charming.
“Yes.”
We looked approvingly at one another.
“Can I have your phone number?” he asked. It was quick, but who was I to say no?
After a hasty recitation of my number and the offering of my name, I left Starbucks and floated back to the office to spend the afternoon giddy with delusions of grandeur and Sienna Miller-esqueness.
I just now realized that I forgot to actually pick up my coffee. But even that cannot bring me down.
Though I am a bit sleepy.
17 comments:
Oh wow, that's amazing. Where I'm from, guys never just ASK for a girl's number! The girl must first lavish upon him plates of cookies and other baked goods, touch his elbow, and in all other possible ways completely demonstrate to him that she's not going to either shoot him down or tell him she's engaged. It has gotten to the point here where it is far more common for girls to ask for guys' phone numbers than the reverse..
And people wonder why I want to move to the East coast.
I'm loving it for you!! Good luck
ooh la la!! YAY!
I love your blog!
when you don't update I feel kinda sad!
...in reference to the weight thing..the answer is "YES". One day, you wake up and nothing fits. After spending oodles of money on bigger clothes, you get disgusted, work out lack a mad person, then have to spend oodles of money on your original size (because, naturally, you didn't have room in your closet and gave everything away to the incredibly tiny drug addicts)
i love your blog and hope to hear all of the updates with handsom-non-balding-local-artist-guy.
Lord! I'm sitting here (coincidentally at a coffee shop, but starbucks can bite my ass)('cause what do I care about getting picked up by artist-guys anyway?) trying not to laugh aloud. I think the haircut question was fantastic.
Thanks for the laughs. And, y'know - have fun/good luck. :-)
Well good luck, but how can you just get rid of a crying boyfriend so easy???
cb, why the hell doesnt my local starfucks offer anything exciting? dammit, even the venti nonfat white chocolate mocha with whip cream not too hot puts me to sleep.
CB,
I am incredibly interested in seeing if Local Artist calls and turns out to be a Nice Guy. For you, I hope yes. For me and the fascination with reading other people's lives, I hope no.
Good night and good luck.
So, do you suppose he remembers you? Did you let on you knew him? Has he called? Details, woman!
Sorry. I could probably tone down on the caffeine at this time.
hott!! I hope he calls you
I once ventured into a Starbucks and heard a woman ask for a "Benti Drip". I was going to inform her that I prefer the 1-day monistat (versus the 3- or 7-day version). I decided against that and also against going to Starbucks again.
I enjoy reading your posts... very well written and entertaining. Keep them coming!
Well, there you go. Talking about coffee again. Well, thats it then, I am getting AE Van Houte to drop a pallet of French Roast off in my back yard. Maybe I can make coffee wine, I am already making coffee ice cream. (from real cream...and expresso french roast....drool).
I have become a real coffee snob....now that I no longer disguise bad coffee with milk and sugar I have decided that life is too short to drink bad coffee. Most Starbucks is bad coffee....good for Mocha-chino double half skim latte, but as coffee....nah. Tim Horton's coffee is a simple crime. I don't even bother with it. And the ice coffees....and those new smoothies? I think they scape those off the bottom of vats in Petro Canada. ooooh...
I shall refrain from making cup size jokes about coffee and green bras...I am sure they are all rattling around in the part of your mind which is still adolescent....grin!
Uh, you know CB, while we're on the subject of coffee...since you're in Manhattan, I suggest you stop by Porto Rico Importing. Best coffee on the planet.
I love your blog. So witty, unpretencious, and (dare I say) fabulous. I'll definatley be coming back.
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