History Buffs & Secret Crushes

Break ups are HARD people.  You catch yourself thinking about your former love at the most inconvenient times.  Like today, when talking about the Marilyn Monroe porn tape and J asked who would buy such a thing and I replied "the real question is how many heads does he have in his freezer and does he dress up like Marilyn or his mommy?"  And then Em got all witty and said "A history buff that likes historical figures in the buff."  Yeah, that was the type of conversation I used to have with you Starbucks.  I'll miss those chats and so will my coworkers.  Because you don't get their funny, witty banter anymore. I get custody of them and you get the bitches that order their lattes to 180 degrees (what does that even MEAN?!).

So this morning I set out to go to Stumptown.  Now, I've been to Stumptown many times before, but this time it felt more serious.  Like we might be starting a relationship.  And I don't want to freak Stumptown out by laying all of my expectations out on its cool exposed brick walls and gay friendly literature for fear that the girls with tattoos behind the counter will tell me what's up by kicking my ass back to 7th grade when my Esprit bag was attached as if it were an appendage.  No, no.  Trust me Stumpy-Stumps ... I already know I'm not cool enough for you.  

But readers, Stumptown is my secret crush.  Stumptown is the popular boy at school who you go completely out of your way to see between classes knowing full well you'll be late to Econ, but you don't give a rat's ASS because he is YUMMY.  And just the mere sight of him makes you get all giggly.  And today?  Well today was the day that I was going to try and talk to my crush.  I put on lipstick and everything.  And then I did the only thing I could do.   I brought reinforcements.  

"Ems, " I said.  "Come on, we're going on a field trip."  We accosted Andrew just as he was getting out of the elevator and forced him to come along.  This is hard for me, readers.  I had to TALK about it.   And so I did.  In detail.  All the way to Stumptown.  I'm sure Ems and Andrew were wondering if they should associate with me publicly.  Andrew even pretended not to hear me for an entire block.  But I kept going.  Until Ems finally looked at him and said "she broke up with Starbucks."  To which he replied "how many bad lattes did you have to get before kicking them to the curb?"  I didn't quite know how to answer that question.  Do I look like a douche bag if I say too many?  Or a bitch if I don't say enough?  Perhaps I've been too harsh?  No, no!  I must forge on.

And so all nervous like, I stepped up to the counter at Stumps and ordered my latte all the while trying not to stare at the hot guy in the black wool coat that was behind me (Side note to the hot guy in the black wool coat:  Well done, sexily dressed, good haired cutie!).  But back to my chat with the popular peeps ... 

The girls were NICE to me!  I could HEAR them!  I got my drink and didn't burn my hand!  It even had a pretty little picture on it!  I promptly dove in and there was FOAM!  I couldn't stop myself!  I was many sips in before remembering to capture it with my oh so professional camera (read:  Motorola Cell Phone).  Because when a girl starts a scrapbook of a new relationship, um ... date ... um ... future ex coffee shop ... whatever, it's important to have memorabilia so you can leave something behind for your ancestors.  Things must be left for the history buffs/serial killers/cross dressers so they can pay $1.5 million to look back at history and say ... so THIS is how it all began ... and I will NOT be the one to deprive them.

P.S.  Speaking of new beginnings, special shout out to all of you new fun peeps who have stopped by to say hi!  I love you and your comments and hello?  Two mentions that I was YOUNG today?  YOU'RE on MY favorites.  No you are.  No you.  No.  You. 

And also, many, many crush worthy thanks to Jack for sending you lovely people my way. 

I really appreciate it.