Undomestic Diva

Earmuffed

In the world of Why does this shit always happen to me? (Or maybe it should be: This shit could only happen to me) I totally got earmuffed this weekend.

It was our turn for snacks for L-Dub's baseball team on Saturday. Candy Ass in his utmost anal retentiveness must have thrown out the soft cooler we own specifically for such events like snack duty while cleaning the garage at some point because when I went to grab it, oh say, 30 minutes before we were supposed to be on the field, IT WAS NO WHERE TO BE FOUND.

This is where I should pull off to the side of the proverbial road on a tangent of a turnout and explain that I do not like to be late to anything. In fact, I like to be early. I am always early. If I am late at being early, I am stressed beyond repair. Candy Ass, on the other hand, must have been born late, thinks it's fashionable to be late (and believe me, the man knows nothing about fashion) and likes to remind me that "we're the first ones here" every time, well, we're the first ones... every where. I DON'T CARE. WE'RE ON TIME, AREN'T WE?

Anywho, no cooler means the Gatorades L-Dub picked out in fifteen colors were going to be hot and gross by the time the game was over AND WHAT IN THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THREW AWAY MY GODDAMN SOFT COOLER YOU ASSHOLE! NOW WE'LL NEVER MAKE IT TO STARBUCKS TO GET MY **DECAF** TALL-IN-A-GRANDE EZ MILK, EXTRA SHOT, EXTRA ICE, ICED CARMEL MACCIATO ON THE WAY TO BASEBALL! MY PLAN! IT'S BEEN FOILED! This is when Candy Ass says calmly, "Why don't we get everyone in the car, swing by Target, WHICH HAS A STARBUCKS IN IT, you can get your coffee and get a cooler, then we'll go straight to the game?" 

I look at the clock and I weigh my options: none. I look at the clock again and start barking orders. In the car now! Who cares about shoes! OK fine, yes bring your baseball cleats! Get! In! The! Damn! Car!

I white knuckle it all the way across town in our ginormous SUV while Candy Ass repeatedly tells me to "get off that guy's ass" on the freeway as I shoot him "you got us into this mess, just let me drive" death looks. By the time we enter the Target parking lot, we I have a plan. I leap out of the car, leaving Candy Ass to sock-and-shoe all three boys as I make a beeline for the Target version of Starbucks and the cooler aisle. Oh, and Candy Ass needs Blistex. And we're out of gum. 

He's so goddamn needy sometimes. Jesus. 

I've got like 15 minutes to do this whirlwind shopping spree in Target, no less, and make it to the baseball field back across town. That's like telling a six year old they've got 15 minutes in Disneyland and that's all. So not fucking fair.

Of course a good five minutes are wasted at the Target Starbucks, which I have to say was very disappointing because the guy working the bar just didn't get me. He didn't understand my drink needs even though I was very specific. Or maybe he was just fucking with me because I was very specific. Either way, dude effed up my drink. Does he not understand that I am about to be LATE for something? The alert level has been raised the RED, bitches.

Good thing I was multi-tasking by talking to Tamara in GA on my cell while I waited for my drink. I know, I know, I was that lady in Target, talking on her cell waaaay too fast, hauling ass through the aisles, grabbing whatever I needed and hurrying to the next thing. I normally don't talk and shop, but this was important (although I can't remember what we were talking about now) and when I got to the coolers, I needed a second opinion. I mean, no, technically she couldn't see the coolers, being 3,000 miles away and all, but I was like, "Do I get the one that holds 38 cans or the one that holds 60?" And she was like, "What color is it?" And I was like, "You're so right, I'll get the blue one. It's prettier."

I hung up before I got to the checkout (thank you Ms. Manners, geesh) where I was shaking I was in such a goddamn frenzy, adrenaline-a-pumping knowing it was going to take a small miracle to make it to baseball on time now; we could forget about getting there early now. *sigh*

As I quickly swiped my debit card, the machine asked me forty million question to which I quickly tap-tap-tapped "no," and "no" and "no" and suddenly realizing I had just told that stupid little machine I didn't want it "all on the card," (Like what? I'm going to put some of my purchase on my debit card and pay the other portion with cash? I'M IN A HURRY MA-CHINE!) I said, "Oh shit!" to which the lady behind me in line, standing there with her 15ish and 14ish year old sons says to them "Earmuffs! Earmuffs!" as her boys snickered.

My head swiveled a full 360 degrees, finally stopping to look at her incredulously and say, "You know what? I'm sorry. But if you know what movie 'earmuffs'* came from, I'd say that's probably inappropriate too."

Then I ran like a mutha fucka out of there, because you know what? I don't like to be late. It's rude.

:::

*Old School = Best movie ever

Coffee, interrupted*

If you've read my tweets, lord knows you know I've gone off the deep-end since quitting the [whisper] C-O-F-F-E-E. It's bad.

Sure, you might have been like, Oh she's feeling 'stabby,' hahahaha, that's funny. But no. No, it's not. I feel like I could straight up stab someone without feeling a smidge bit remorseful and no coffee-lovin' jury this side of the goddamn Mississippi would convict my ass. And not only would I get off scott-free, but I'd set a new precedent and they'd name it "the percolatory defense" in my honor.

(To call me a bitch right now would be to mitigate the gravity of the situation. Think PMS to the eleventy-billionth power. There ain't enough Midol in the world to make me "relax.")

At this point, Candy Ass would love nothing more than to hear me whine about a debilitating migraine 'cause this 'no coffee' thing is making me a tad bit unfriendly.

And by a tad bit unfriendly, I do mean thou shall do whatever I meant to say which is sometimes different than what I actually said, so help me god if you can't figure that out for yourself.

Amen.

:::

*God help you if you even dare mention my post title being a play-on-words for that homewrecker of an actress' movie. I will jump through this computer screen and layeth the smackdowneth. Or something slightly less violent. Team Aniston. 

Sad news

So, it looks like I'm giving up my beloved Starbucks.

Yeah.

And those of you who know me either personally or through my blog know that this truly is sad news for me. I absolutely love coffee. It's my thing. My vice. But you know what? I think it just might be the cause of my DAILY migraines. And, as much as I love coffee, I can't live with DAILY migraines. It's miserable.

So, for the next week, I'm cutting out all Starbucks to see if my migraines go away. If they do, well, then that's that, I guess. If they don't, then yay! coffee! but damn! anti-seizure medication! So you know, giving up coffee is the lesser of two evils, really.

I'm going to be OK though. It's my husband and kids I'm worried about.

The Great American Tragedy

I witnessed The Great American Tragedy yesterday. I am still shaken.

Upon exiting my favorite Starbucks (where everyone knows my name), I saw a mother absent mindedly set her grande peppermint mocha (with whip) on the hood of her white minivan as she went about buckling her obviously unhappy little girl into her car seat. Flustered with having just complied with the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration's laws in regards to infant and booster seats, the woman climbed into her minivan, cranked the engine over and threw it into reverse, WITHOUT EVEN THINKING.

The abandoned coffee, in all it's minty goodness and holiday cheer, tragically tumbled off the car's hood, falling to its death on the parking lot asphalt, exploding and hemorrhaging four pumps of chocolate, two shots of espresso, steamed milk and foamy whipped cream, not to mention a spattering of those beautiful red sprinkles that practically scream "HAPPY HOLIDAYS."

I, a witness to this horrific scene, sat frozen behind the wheel of my own car, clutching my tall dry double-shot cappuccino, vowing to not loosen my grip until all the contents of the red cup with that familiar logo had safely reached my esophagus, the last few drips having long since danced past my tongue.

I wept quietly for this woman and her loss, sad to have watched helplessly as the tragedy unfolded in slow motion right before me. Fate had chosen her that day, and having been a victim of such grief a time or two myself - in that very parking lot even - I felt nothing but sympathy for her. What a crappy way to start off your day.

Such a shame... 

Curiously, I watched the woman take notice of her bad fortune, throw up her hands in disgust (and what I believe to be pain fronted by anger) and peel out of the shopping center, most likely heading home to crawl into bed, pull the sheets over her decaffeinated head and cry tears of frustration. At least this is what I would have done, after getting myself another coffee, of course.

$2 Grande Iced Drinks After 2 at Starbucks

Big news from Starbucks that comes with a catch... a catch that's hardly a catch for most of us addicts. IT'S A GOOD DAY.

I'd say these people were nuts... but...

... you know I'd be doing the same thing if my Starbucks store were closing. Saw the "Save Our Starbucks" news story on FoxNews.com this morning.

Don't mess with peoples' espresso, biatches.

BREAKING NEWS: Starbucks Store Closure List

As you may have recalled, I posted about Starbucks closing 600 of their stores. Starbucks has now officially released the store closure list which you can see in full here.

Thankfully, my store does not appear to be on the list. My condolences to those of you whose stores are on there. IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY. (I'm lying. It's going to suck donkey balls. Call your therapist for an emergency session now!)

Holding My Breath

Because I am a mature woman, with specific ideals and beliefs and rights and privileges, I am holding my breath until I hear back from the Starbucks CEO and/or its Financial Chief.

The sooner I hear back, the better, because as I see it, the only thing left for me to do is stage a protest and burn... my Starbucks cup. Don't make me...

In the meantime, I've posted a vague review of Augusten Burrough's latest book A Wolf at the Table: A Memoir of my Father on the Undomestic Readers site.

A Letter to Starbucks

I'm afraid there's bad news. You've probably heard by now (via the microchip Starbucks has, unbeknownst to you, planted in your small intestine via one of their many delicious concoctions) that Starbucks will be closing 600 of its under-performing stores -  yet another ugly side effect of a struggling economy.

So here I sit, writing an open letter to Starbucks Chairman Howard Schultz and Chief Financial Officer Pete Bocian who could probably give a rat's ass about what I'm about to say because I'm certain they're hooked up to an IV drip of... well... Starbucks drip.

Gentlemen,

I'm sad. And no, these are not tears of grief streaming down my face as I try to see through the blur and get my thoughts heard; they are tears of frustration. I am disappointed that no one consulted me first. I am confused how you could make such a monumental decision without my input. And I am some other third thing I can't think of right now because I know examples are best in threes.

I'm afraid my local Starbucks could be one of those "lower performing stores" because you can actually go in and get out of there with your drink in under half an hour. (I think a Starbucks store is only deemed "successful" when lines wind well outside the store and halfway around the corner. I don't live in NYC on some numbered avenue. I'm in Nowhere Specific Suburbia, which, btw, is chock full of moms and housewives riding hormonal rollercoasters - not a demographic you really want to let down, just so ya know.) But this isn't just another Starbucks to me; it's where my guys and I hang out a couple of (fine - several) times a week. It's where we've met new friends, been reunited with old classmates and where we know every barista by name and vice versa.

For just a moment, separate yourself from the numbers and diagrams, the pie charts and cost analysis. Imagine how many novels and blog posts were written at this (or any particular) Starbucks alone. How many awful blind dates were hatched here and how many dramatic break-ups occurred right there at the table near the bar. How many meetings have been conducted at that table in the back? How many people enter this particular Starbucks each morning, looking for a jump-start to their day? How many people end their days via a night cap from this store? Oh? Just me? Anyway...

I might be jumping the gun here, as no one has actually said my local Bux is going to close, but just the thought - the mere possibility - is giving me anxiety once only thought to be caused by a triple grande cappuccino. It's too much to handle.

If some stores have to go, then I personally think they should be the semi-affiliated ones that have infiltrated our grocery stores and Targets. At first, these were a welcomed sight. I'll even admit to having used 'going to Target' as an excuse to get my daily fix of Starbucks. But the truth of the matter is, most of these store-run Bux locations can't fix a decent cappuccino if you stabbed them with the foam thermometer. I've asked for an iced one-pump mocha and received chocolate milk on ice. I had to teach a guy in our local grocery store how to make a carmel macchiato for christsake. It's unholy.

In an effort to not be too dramatic, I just think you should know the overall melancholy that will transfix my whole world should my Starbucks be one that closes.

I think Starbucks Corporate needs to re-think what they're about to do to the economy. According to MSN, Starbucks plans on closing 600 stores, reducing their global workforce by 7 percent, with an estimated 12,000 people losing their jobs. Good god, smalls! That's 12,000 people who will be flocking to your big coffee rivals - ya know, them golden arches with their nasty ass hotel-tasting-iced-coffees - because you've pulled the rubber mats from beneath them.

If this doesn't scream injustice, then don't you at least realize what villainous part you're playing in today's economy? The vicious circle you are creating? The economy is bad so you close stores to save money. But then MILLIONS are inconvenienced by these closures and stop going to Starbucks altogether. This leaves a whole lotta people without their daily caffeinated fuel, thus affecting overall productivity wherever they work, resulting in a loss of profit at these particular companies, therefore forcing lay-offs and thereby affecting the economy. Again. IT'S SIMPLE ECONOMICS, BABY.

And can I just say, why are all the closures going to be in the U.S.? Starbucks is ours. MADE IN THE USA. (OK - I know that actual coffee is not so much grown here, but you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, right? The company was grown here.) If you've got to downsize somewhere, how about elsewhere? Why bite the hands that serves us? That makes our foam? Brews our beans? Whips our cream? And for the love of god, I don't want to see some fine print on my cardboard cup telling me the mochas are now made in Taiwan. That ain't right.

OK, so maybe Economics was never my thing. But I do know one thing: My local Starbucks? I know the manager, the assistant manager and every barista there. I know their husbands and wives, their children and their friends. I can tell you about the manager's wife's nerve problems in her hand and his granddaughter's heart surgeries. I can tell you about the assistant manager's husband who just came back from Iraq and the about the baby they have on the way. I can tell you about their tattoos and where they got them done. The list goes on...

And you know what? They don't just know my drink, they've come to my kids birthday parties. They've been to my house and I've been to some of theirs. I've seen them cry and they've seen me cry. (Not that I'm a cry baby or anything.) They are as much a part of my life as coffee is, which, hello! is saying something. So, this isn't about a bottom line, it's personal. It's like a Hallmark commercial... it pulls on the ol' heart strings, and yet there seems to be no happy ending.

Also, not to make you feel like you've made bad decisions in the past or anything, but I inquired once or twice about having Starbucks advertise on my blog. I mean, I've got an entire category devoted to my love of Starbucks, appropriately named "For the Love of Starbucks." I don't want to make assumptions, but... perhaps if you had, I don't know, advertised here... who knows, right?

So please, gentlemen. Keep the gentle in the gentlemen and re-think your decision. I promise to buy stock. (SBUX, right?) And better than that, I promise to continue to be a daily investor in the Starbucks brand by making my frequent (OK, fine - excessive) stops in your stores. I mean, I can't think of a more horrific sight than seeing an empty, deserted Starbucks store. It makes me {gag} nauseous just blogging about it.

Sincerely,

The Undomestic Diva

P.S. If you were never planning on closing my particular store, then forget you ever read any of this. Thanks. 

***

Don't think I didn't forward this to Starbucks Chairman Howard Schultz and Chief Financial Officer Pete Bocian. I don't mess around, people.

 

Starbucks Addict WINNER!!

By one vote, one little measly vote, we have a winner. (Don't ever say your vote doesn't count.) Congrats to Jenn in IL who made us all nod in shameful agreement with her You might have a Starbuck's problem if you spill your Starbucks drink on your lap whilst driving and your first reaction has NOTHING to do with the fact that you wore white pants today, or that your lap is suffering some seriously painful burns, but rather a "Dammit!" and pulling a U-ie to go get a fresh one."

Don't lie. You've done it too.

I also have to confess to having - many-a-times -  doing the whole buying two, one for now and one for later, thing out of pure addiction as suggested by IB Kid. [blush]

Congrats to Jenn in IL on the $20 Starbucks gift card. Ya know, to keep on keepin' on... the caffeine.