I Hate Your Venti Stupid Shake!

btw, this guy's name is matt. so y'know.

Today I went to the doctor. (Collective gasp...) I am fine. Thanks for caring. Afterwards, I went with my mom to Starbucks, which is my mortal enemy, because not only is it a cult-ish establishment, but the people who go and work there are addicts. If Dr. Drew does not get to them soon, well, I fear it will be too late.

So anyway, my mom is badass. We pulled up to the drive-thru window, which is for Fatty Magoo Starbucks drinkers, and the lanky little nerd shilling out the coffee tried to sell my mom a tray of four cookies.

You obvi needed some Wellies to get through the shit he was spreading. She kept saying no, and he kept persisting. She said no, and he said they would cure cancer and help you live a long life.

Finally my mother said, "I want to die." The barista (statistically as perky as a Disney character) frowned and said, "You wanna die? We need to talk." My mom countered with, "I don't even need a receipt, I'm just gonna die."

The barista told us to have a good day. I almost felt bad. Not quite.

(PS: the title of this post was shouted by me at my mother when she insisted on turning the air on high since coffee makes her really warm. i turned the air down. she asked me what was wrong with me. i told her i hated her venti stupid shake, which was all i could come up with.)

Deuces,
Erika