starbucks

After experiencing orgasmic pure coffee in its freshly-ground euphoria from Boo's Mobile French Press, I swore to pile my 3-in-1s into a pyramid and torch them while chanting cleanse me from inferior coffee that taste like gnat's pee.

My usual Grande Latte. Boo's bag of Sumatran extra bold coffee beans (instrumental to the most beautiful song of the day "feel free to make some for yourself whenever you want"). Boss's reinforced rule for everyone to come in at 9 instantly become less-picketwieldingworthy.

But I'm still not letting the horrendous morning incident go. Lately there seems to be a bevy of annoying drivers on the road who passed their exam to create a deluge of accidents (or near ones) via a never-ending string of insanely stupid decisions. The human race would be extinct several centuries ago if the Earth was populated with 30% more of such drivers. Yes, I'm talking about you, Uncle, in your posh Porsche Carerra (Carrera? whatever) going at 40km/h on the fast lane. You want safety and drive slow-slow go get the typical uncle-ified Volvo, dagnabbit. Don't effing block my way just because my Lisa is small and unwashed. Especially not when I have bleeding vagina and is late for work.