Starbucks = Love.
My husband and my sister call it my crackhouse. I must stop by this said ‘crackhouse’ at least once a day. I have to get my fix. If I don’t get my fix, people get hurt.
It’s not just the Iced Venti Unsweetened Green Tea I am after. I also enjoy the people that work there. The atmosphere. The recognition. It’s like my Cheers. Everybody knows my name.
Women like being popular.
In general, most women love a good coffee house. Starbucks just figured out how much we really do love it and they made a fortune. This company combined fancy coffee drinks with pastries, cool employees and ambiance to the tune of billions in cash around the globe.
Seriously. Fancy coffee drinks and pastries? Where do you sign me up? Look, I have a vagina. This essentially means that if someone puts a drink in front of me that combines both caffeine and whipped cream alongside a delicious pastry– I cannot and will not control myself. Be it scone or apple fritter, I am eating that shit. And then I will run for an hour to burn off the calories.
And the shame.
Dude– in NYC, they actually passed a law that requires-REQUIRES-the food service industry to post the calorie content of all consumable items. Starbucks has to do this too. I find this sort of thing irritating. The last thing I want on my way to a soul-crushing job at 8 in the morning is to know how many calories were in that Old-Fashioned Doughnut my fat ass just ate, right after I chugged my calorically mind-numbing Grande Frappachino. Thanks NYC. I am now a bulimic.
I usually get around the calorie issue– as do most women. For the sake of devouring that sweet treat, I will go lighter with the drink option. For some women, it is making that Latte skinny. Others choose a smaller size. I go with tea.
*Note to men: Women have a much-celebrated tradition of calorie counting and making concessions in order to consume something else. It’s like juggling. But with food. Yummy food. We do this our whole lives. We pass this tradition down with each generation.
There I go with the whole stream of consciousness thing again. Back to Starbucks.
I swear to God– there are like, 4 Starbucks within a 10 mile radius of my house. Despite this fact, I (like most women) frequent one particular Starbucks. I chose this one based on certain and specific criteria. Women keep a checklist inside of their heads for everything. With Starbucks, it goes something like this:
- Uh, were they polite when I breezed in?
- Did they compliment my outfit? My shoes?
- Rate the attractiveness of the employees–where do I factor?
- Did they make my latte non-fat on the first try? DID THEY?
- Rate the coolness factor of the employees–where do I factor?
- Did that bitch just hit on my husband?
- Did that guy just hit on me?
- Music? Check. Ambiance? Check. Popularity? Check.
Notice the amount of factors pertaining to the woman. I, I, I. That pretty much sums it up.
My Starbucks is a bit more suburban than the one I used to go to. Man– the old one. Those employees are under the assumption that they are ridiculously cool. All alt and emo. Having to keep up the “I’m so emo, I don’t care” front. I hate that shit. That would be question 5 on the list. I do not factor into their cool scheme. Hence, the departure.
My Starbucks is like a little family. I am way too attached. My fam shows up on weekends. I go every morning. They have my drink memorized. They know my kids. I am friends with people AND the actual store on Facebook. We are friends for real! For life! It’s just the way it is–women do this. If someone closes a place we frequent–it is like a death of sorts. If someone takes our happy caffeine ‘crackhouse,’ we die a little inside.
Women also judge a coffee house by how many celebs visit it and are caught on film doing so. Brit Brit, LiLo, Reese Witherspoon– the list continues. They are all loyal to the Starbucks empire. Therefore, so are we. If Britney is drinking a Frappachino then dammit, so am I. But make mine skinny. That bitch got fat-or is she preggers again? I am befuddled.
Laugh if you will– but Starbucks and ladies are a match made in heaven.
Off to my dealer. I need a fix. Stay off of the roads for about 30 minutes. I’ll have my tea by then and it should be safe to drive again.