December 3, 2013: I like Starbucks
I feel like it’s somehow wrong to say it, but it’s true it’s true! I like Starbucks. It’s the closest thing I have to a real home. (And isn’t that sad?!)
In fact, I wrote a poem about it:
Starbucks, Starbucks, you’re my home
Regardless of how far I roam
In Westport, Norwalk, Fairfield too
I’m always coming home to you
Your plain black tea is on the spot
It’s okay iced, but better hot
I love to drink it from a mug
An earthy option that I love
I dig walnut banana bread
but sometimes get lemon instead
Espresso’s strong to give me hope
It’s great on ice; I won’t say nope
The music can be sort of cool
I tap my foot—a dancing fool
Of course, some things confuse me so
Like what the hell’s “macchiato?”
And other terms like “venti” too
Make no sense to me; do they to you?
But those are only minor banes
The rest is magic, though one question remains
Why does every store in your lovely stable pride
a dour-faced, pale, skinny, pierced, dark-haired girl with tattoos?
I hope you enjoyed that, and as an important footnote, I hope everyone is aware that by simply ASKING the lovely Starbucks staff, they will gladly serve your drink in a real porcelain mug or glass, the way they do in Europe (or so I imagine). It not only tastes better and looks much, much cooler, but you’re helping your disturbed environment and, believe it or not, also getting a TEN-CENT DISCOUNT!
So spread the word. And don’t be ashamed, like I am, to love Starbucks—my home away from home!