Sunday, December 7, 2008

Kitty Karma

Let's rewind, shall we, to October 8th, 2007. I am awoken at 9 am by my roommate pounding on my door. "Anna, get down here. I found a kitten. She's freezing, I think she's blind, and I have no idea what to do with her. Help!" I stumble into the living room to find a tiny, scared kitten who is covered in fleas. Her eyes are swollen and crusted closed and the end of her tail is broken at a 45 degree angle. I skip class to take her to the vet and discover that this creature, at four weeks old (and runty, no less), wouldn't have lasted through the night had my roommate's dog not seen her. She's scrawny and hypothermic and the sweetest little kitten I've ever met.  

Today, Alice is a ninja. She's a beast. She's a wonderful creature with a great sense of humor and a generally sarcastic attitude. Pretty much, she's me, only a cat. And her broken tail? One of the most charming things about her. (That picture is Alice looking usual).

So, following my cat-karma, last night my roommates and I took in a stray cat who was outside, crying, and cold. He's absurdly sweet. One of the most affectionate cats I've ever encountered, although none too bright. He is reminiscent of my childhood pet in his sweetness and intellect. The part that I found...interesting, for lack of a better word, is that this new fellow has a bend in his tail, as though it's been broken, like Alice does.

(Here he is, sleeping on me as I study for finals, so sweet).

Friday, November 28, 2008

That time of year again...

The time of year where Facebook statuses range from curse words to random letters resulting from beating the keyboard with frustration. When you can pick out college students on the street by the look of fear in their eyes or the sweats they've clearly been wearing for days. This time of year, it is not uncommon to see 20-somethings muttering vocabulary words under their breath or jumping at the slightest noise. That's right. Finals.

I am currently strung so tightly that I'm having nightmares about failing classes I don't have. I have blocked out all the work I need to do because everytime I think about my To-Do List, my heart starts racing and I feel like I might pass out. The only thing keeping me sane is knowing that if I survive Finals, I am going to get a new piercing. Bribery is important. I feel like even if I didn't sleep at all between now and the end of Finals, I still wouldn't have enough time to get everything done. Maybe if I was writing my papers instead of updating my blog...

Sunday, November 23, 2008

A friendly message from your neighborhood barista:

-For starters, unless you are in Starbucks, don't order a Venti anything. It just makes you sound like a tool. Which you sort of are if you insist on ordering a Grande Caramel Macchiato at your locally-owned, non-franchised cafe.

-While we're on the topic of Caramel Macchiatos, they're caramel vanilla lattes. From what I've been told, the only distinction is the order that everything's put in the cup. I understand that this is news to quite a few people, and generally I don't judge you for ordering something you like at Starbucks somewhere else, considering that you don't know the difference. This is really just an FYI point.

-Don't assume your barista remembers you. Unless said barista remembers your drink of choice consistently, it's a safe bet that they won't recognize you outside of the coffee shop. Or in the coffee shop, for that matter. A lot of people drink coffee. We can't remember all of you.

-On that note, it is terribly disconcerting when someone continues a conversation with you whilst you are making their coffee beverage that you don't recall starting. Don't blindside us like that, it's just unfair. At least preface the continuation of a conversation with a reminder of what we were talking about originally. Otherwise, we're left flailing in the dark, attempting to not be rude while trying to figure out who the fuck you are and what on earth you're talking about.

-Don't be the regular that we hate. Don't be a snot. Don't be rude to the person that you expect to make your coffee several times a week. Just don't. If you aren't going to tip the baristas at your cafe of choice, at least be polite. It wouldn't hurt to ask our names, or at the very least, ask how we're doing. Fake interest if you can't be sincere about it. I don't feel like I'm asking a lot, just common courtesy towards the people who feed your caffeine addiction.

-It pays off to be a regular that we like. It gets you extras (chocolate in your chai for free, the slightly larger "small" mug), cappucinos made to your precise dryness specifications, and the bigger piece of coffee cake. If you're nice to us, we won't even mind making your obscenely specific beverage (one and a half shot latte with one pump hazelnut and one pump vanilla in a 16 ounce cup, no foam, extra hot, for example).

-Don't try to order while you're on the phone. This should go without saying, and really, it applies to all people in the service industry. Don't motion at the size you want and mouth your order. We are human beings. Unless you want your coffee more than you want to talk to your mom, you don't get coffee. If you insist on ordering while on the phone, I will purposely mess up your drink and/or over-charge you. It's the principle of the thing.

Edit: Don't ask us to make 2% milk if we have non-fat and whole milk. This half and half business is bullshit. You can't taste the difference, even if you think you can. Don't be a pain in the ass. You're just being ridiculous.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Discovery of the day:

Everyone looks a little queer at 8 am, especially when they're naked. I had this discovery in my art class this morning, whilst trying to assess the dyke-quotient of our fantastically attractive model. At 8 o'clock in the morning, no one wears makeup, ponytails are pretty much a requirement, and nudity precludes any sort of clothes-related gaydar. Not that her gayness really matters. Were she confirmably gay, that would still leave me without any sort of acceptable pick-up line. I feel like "Hey, so I've spent two hours staring at you naked, and I have at least one life size picture involving your boobs, but maybe you'd like to get some coffee some time with me?" probably isn't a good choice. I must say though, that she makes my 8 am art class worth going to. (My crush feels mildly inappropriate. Perhaps like I should be feeling uncomfortable about sharing this information...)