I fucking love Frasier.
The Starbucks Cafe located in the Prunetree Center, in Prunedale, CA, is always a fun mixed bag of individuals. Today there are two adults, one woman, who I’ve found out is a teacher, who politely asked to sit next to me (that is, a full table away) before sitting down. The other is a man in a busines suit, with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, and a large beard/mustache combo.
They both brought their own mugs - regulars. Or regulars to the coffee shop.
There is a man in the corner chair on his iPad, and a teenager sitting accross from me with some sort of orange juice-y drink, studiously doing her homework.
Then theres me, casually mopping an almost critical amount of spilled coffee off of the less vital parts of my new laptop, calm and cool and collected on the outside, cursing like a sailor in my head.
Its 5:45pm on a Wednesday and everyone here has something in common; they’d rather be here than at home. This makes sense, considering its the only place to get decent internet for quite a few miles. Maybe you’re checking your social media sites, maybe you’re studying like a good person, or reading an online newspaper article. But me? I’m just trying to watch some fucking Buffy without being further judged by my co-workers, and not wanting to deal with my boss’ spotty internet.
Living in the country has its downsides.
If you think a woman in a tan vinyl bra and underwear, grabbing her crotch and grinding up on a dance partner is raunchy, trashy, and offensive but you don’t think her dance partner is raunchy, trashy, or offensive as he sings a song about “blurred” lines of…
My thoughts exactly.
Golden Eyes. Photo by Ed Rosack
Cannot do this today.
You’ll be the finest commander we’ve ever trained.
DRAMASASSY QUEEN ♡