Skinny. Grande.
I purchased a grande skinny vanilla latte from Starbucks. Usually, the cashier will write DREW SKINNY in quick sharpie scrawl on the coffee sleeve, which always feels nice. Sort of like Café Gratitude’s menu-items-as-affirmations but instead of positive raw vegan fare I’m being served delicious chemical stimulants. “Yes,” I think, “I one day could be skinny. Or maybe a realistic meeting in the middle. A true skinny grande.” Is that like describing oneself as “curvy” on a dating website?
My lattes are rubenesque.
Yesterday, instead of my usual aspirational affirmation of hope and complicated body image, the barista, in penmanship typically reserved for your sociopath of a 10th grade lab partner wrote something that looked a bit like DREW SLAVE instead of DREW SKINNY.
Time to take the hint?
Tomorrow I will switch back to Americanos with a little room for cream. At least then they write DREW AM ROOM. Yes. I am. I am Drew. There is room for me in the Universe and within my cup. 16 ounces of American freedom.
Peter Gabriel — Book of Love
I appear to be collecting versions of this song. Yes, I am posting Peter Gabriel at 8pm on a Sunday night. Because this song is entirely too sad and too touching and no one understands and you’re not my mom and I’m shuffling off to my room to listen to Delilah.
(Source: drinkyourjuice)
Reblogged from drinkyourjuice with 29 notes / Permalink /
Man Food Thursday / Meltdown O'Clock
- Nick: Man Food Thursday?
- Me: Yes!
- Nick: we have chicken wings?
- Me: Yes. I bought them. They are in the freezer.
- Nick: We need blue cheese dressing.
- Me: I can pick up some stuff on my way home if I leave early enough. The cast of Twilight is on Oprah today.
- Nick: gross.
- Me: LET ME HAVE MY THINGS. IT IS ALL I HAVE LEFT.
