Three Cheers for Oral Hygiene!

Today I had the great honor of meeting a human animal crossbreed. Half human, half beaver.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, he walked into the cafe, completely unaware that upper teeth was protruding far past his lip. They also tilted to the right.

I should have known trouble was coming. My coworker had looked up, and then fled into the backroom. Instead of looking where she looked, I watched her flee. Then, I looked up. I choked back a shocked gasp of fear.

I tried, with every ounce and fiber of my being, every last molecule in my brain saying “Look in his eyes! Look in his eyes!” I tried so hard, I did. I can note that he did have bushy eyebrows. But my eyes kept moving back to his teeth. His gums were a rainbow of pinks and red, with a bit of brown circling the largest protruding tooth. They were heavy and swollen and wet looking. I shudder just thinking about them.

His eyes! Look at his eyes!

It was then I noticed a red spot on his largest tooth. My mind jumped to the obvious conclusion. Remnants from the poor mammal he killed with his bare hands and then devoured with the ivory meat hooks hanging from his mouth. See? Even beaver cross breeds can be vicious.

Rawwwrrr chomp chomp grawrrrrrwaaaaaaaaaaaah. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Pooping in Public

Please, for the love of God and everything that is holy, do not read this post if you like me, dislike poop, have any respect for me, have any respect for yourself, or have a bad gag reflex.

A little after I got to work at the cafe today around 3pm, I drank a latte. As I finished my latte, I noticed something. I had to poo. However, I’m really not comfortable pooping anywhere other than my house. Because only the people you love really understand your own poop. So, I ignored it and continued serving drinks with a smile. As the day wore on, the annoying throb in my butt started to tingle a little bit. Uh oh, a sign of a very very uncomfortable poop. But, I held firm and did not poop at the store.

I went out to dinner at a chinese restaurant with one of my coworkers during my break. This, in retrospect, was a bad idea for my poop. As we all know, or have just discovered, good ideas are not my strong point. After dinner, my co-worker, out of the blue, brought up the fact that she’s an incredibly fast pooper. A “smooth process” as she calls it. Her friend clocked the time it took for her to run up a flight of stairs, poop, wash her hands and run back down the stairs, and it took 92 seconds. Impressive, right? Turns out, she has the same pooping at work fear I do. Anyway, as she had confided in me, I confided my pooping problem to her. She sympathized, and understood my need to wait. It was wonderful to have a companion in poop understanding.

When I returned to work after dinner one thing became increasingly clear. I had to poop. I had to poop NOW. And it wasn’t going to be pleasant. I informed my fellow barista that I had, had, HAD to go to the bathroom, would she please excuse me.

I crossed my fingers as I ran to the back of the store, praying that the bathroom would be empty. I nearly hallelujah chorused when I found it so. Then I said a little prayer for quiet pooping and no other bathroom arrivals.

The second half of the prayer was answered.

What came out of my butt was nothing short of the 1812 Overture. Cannon blasts and all.

I was so sure I would walk out of the bathroom to a line of men saluting my hard work, a job well done.

I ran out of the bathroom, looking shiftily to both sides and back to the cafe.

Hoo boy, that was a good one.

Quoting my Mom

“I think it’s the curse of the Jewish mother. Associating food with love. And you keep feeding and feeding…”

I hate you.

I work at a small coffee shop. (See? I got a second job!) And while I make a point of not blogging about work, this needs to be heard.

There was finally a lull in the hectic crush of today, and a hipster girl in a large hello kitty necklace said, “Can I have a Caramel Frappucino?”

“Uh wah?” I said.

“A Frappucino.”

“This isn’t Starbucks?”

“No, not it isn’t. It’s _____.”

“Oh. I thought it was Starbucks.”

“Nope.”

“Well, we don’t have Frappucinos.”

My coworker then came out of the back and interjected “We don’t have Frappucinos. But you can have [our signature iced drink.]“

“Will it taste like a Frappucino?”

This is where angry ranting Sarah comes in. Make it known that I did not actually say this outloud.
“ARE YOU AN IDIOT OR SOMETHING? THIS ISN’T STARBUCKS! We don’t live to copy Starbucks, surprising as that may seem to you. In fact, we are our own people. We have our own souls. The drink will taste like the drink and nothing else. Got it?”

Thus ends rant.

And Hipster Hello Kitty Girl? Returned her drink and demanded we remake it.

um…ok?

I was driving home from the gas station today, and I was following a red SUV with the license plate “YANNI”. I kid you not. So let’s have a little chat about this. Of all the musicians you can have on your license plate, YANNI is not the one to get. Let’s think about some more rockin’ musicians to put on your license plate. Maybe U2, KISS, LED ZEP, DOORS. But YANNI? Is your 4 year old so into Yanni that you felt the need to put it on your license plate? Don’t you know that Yanni is flat out creepy? Seriously?

SPAZTASTIC

I fell down the stairs twice today.

Owiieees.

All I want

All I want is someone to save me, but everyone says I’m the only one who can save myself.

Dear Chronic Curmudgeon,

I am already mourning the loss of your blog. I am truly devastated.

At your going away party, I laughed. I cried. I threw up five times. This was truly how upset i was at your leaving us.

I was so upset in leaving you that I threw up all down the road over New York. All down the road in Connecticut. Two states will soon smell how devastated I am at your departure.

Caption This…And Have Some Fun With It!

At 4 am, occasionally, I am sensational

At 4 am this morning, I awoke with a start. Assuming my Tylenol PM wore off, I rolled around trying to fall back asleep. No luck. So I thought about things that were happening in my life. I thought about ends and new beginnings. Starts and finishes. The people who walk into our lives and affect us. And during this process, I developed a theory on friendships.

My theory is that there are three types of friendships. The first type of friendship is Hotel Friendship. They’re not always open and the food might not be to your liking. (If your tastes are too expensive, or cheap, depending.) The second type of friendship is Gas Station Friendship. While gas stations may be open twenty four hours a day, the food is usually junk. The third type of friendship is Diner Friendship. Diner friendships are the best, because the diner is always open, and you’re guaranteed to find something you like. Pudding, hash browns, anything. I have a select few friendships that are Diner Friendships, but I believe the majority of friends you make in life are Hotel Friendships.

What do you think?