too sad for sentence structure

Because I’m a sissy girl bleeding heart jackass… when a starving kitty comes sauntering up my driveway I just can’t help myself. Have to take the damn thing in. Because I’m an idiot I thought that with a little loving and some friskies she’d get all better and we’d be BFFs. Not fuckin quite. Homegirl had the kitty cancer and I just had to spend some stupid amount of money to have her put down.

What the hell kind of god would allow cats to get cancer? People I can understand. We’re assholes. But cats? They bring nothing but joy (in the form of youtube videos) to the world. You give them the cancer? Cat cancer is basically proof that intelligent design is a crock of shit. Only cruel and merciless science would put tumors in cute things.

spro bro poser

Dear home barista guy: fuck you, I do this for a living. For the better part of a decade, actually. It’s a craft and a skill. I get up at omg-o’clock 5 days a week. I endure burns, repetitive motion injuries and douche nozzles like you because I’m passionate about what I do. What I do is make kick ass espresso. What you do is come into my shop and make underhanded comments criticizing my technique, equipment or staff based on your very limited understanding of espresso theory. You do this in spite of the fact that you pre-grind your espresso for home use, (oxidize much?) order your cappuccino to go, and once tried to tell me that a macchiato “doesn’t have foam on it.” Why do you think that you are in a position to criticize and demean an honest, hardworking and passionate individual? Do me and my staff a favor; stay home, home barista. Make your fucking foamless macchiato with your stale espresso on your black n decker expressomatic5000 and leave the real lattes to the pros. Stop trying to impress your constipated girlfriend with your feeble attempts to out spro me. May the ghost of Ernesto Illy haunt your dreams.

a career in the specialty coffee industry ensures that you will die alone

Getting up at 4am has seriously affected my game.

this is what my life has become

vs  

it is unfortunate that you have required me to regulate.

Okay 7-11 guy. I get it. You think I’m cute. Every time I stumble in drunk to buy pizza rolls and chocolate covered pretzels at 3am you go all googly-eyed and ask me where my boyfriend is. Without hesitation I tell you sir: It Is Not Going to Happen. Plus, I really think that you could probably do better than some alcoholic red headed jew devil girl.

I’ve endured this BS because you are the keeper of junk food. Which is very important. Without your supreme mercy I would be forced to walk 5 blocks to the Lucky Mart. And they close at 11pm.

But this morning? That shit you pulled on the bus? It is 6 in the fucking AM. I am trying to get to work. This is neither the time nor the place to be giving ladies the up/down and asking us how we’re doin. How am I doin? Barely concious and verticle, dude. Now I’d appreciate if you would kindly turn the fuck around so that I can listen to the Grizzy Bear and wish that I were dead.

in which an attempt is made to solve all of the world's problems

the world that revolves around me. that is.

the airing of dirty laundry would seem to be the only way to keep myself honest during the ensuing battle(s).

They range in superficial irrelevance from “floss more!” and “lose weight” to “learn how to make a fire because goddamn the gas bill was ridiculous” then onto “train for the N(orth)W(est)R(egional)B(arista)C(hampionship)” and of course “learn the grammar (stop using parenthesis because you don’t understand proper sentence structure)”

I am (also) currently 5 episodes deep in my quest to watch the entire x-files series. This may cut into my browsing of craigslist and not putting away my laundry. Only time will tell.

true love waits