November 20th, 2013
While working as the maven of early Monday mornings, you learn a think or two about people while working as a coffee barista.
Sure in your downtime on the clock, when you’re not cleaning or restocking food, you tend to participate in a plethora, let’s just say, ‘creative’ activities”. Of course it’s acceptable to channel your inner wizard, brewing bizarre beverages…

Honestly though, the crown jewel of procrastination: people watching.




Talking to the regulars, complaining about long hours, and of course who could forget being nagged by customers that for some reason, no matter what you do, are just NEVER satisfied.
These astronomically complicated unhappy (often times elderly) assholes; often times didn’t even know anything about coffee to begin with! Living in a vacation town, during the rush hour from say 6 am – 9 am, on any given morning, I could always count on there being at least a handful of these goons.
Their tactics were simple enough; they would just stand at the register staring at the menu for, I kid you not 20 minutes. Trying to quiz me about the differences between black coffees, Americanos, cappuccinos, you name it. Asking about whether we used fresh shots of espresso or not, asking me to fucking diagram a latte, and of course always curious as to whether our smoothies used fresh fruit. Critics of the coffee community, listen, we’re honest workers and it’s not my goal in life to try to jip you out of a good cup of Joe! Now, FINALLY after asking a million questions about what type of beverage they’ve selected, they’re ready to order.

When honestly you feel like just saying….


But no, you have to listen to this annoying customer who apparently can’t understand life. They go on to ask,
“How fattening is this? Can you make that Lo-Cal, one Splenda, stirred into it and then funnel the milk slowly, No that’s wrong you definitely did that wrong”


First of all, fat and flavor go to together; just swing for the whole milk, I PROMISE it won’t kill you. Secondly, I don’t even know what funneling means, this isn’t alchemy, this is a freaking cup of morning coffee and you’re ruining my day! And finally, above all else after this ordeal, my fake smiling and sometimes forced laughed, guess who would conveniently forgets to tip.
Among these terrible people, my employees and I could always sort them into categories. Which after awhile, became somewhat of a game between us.
A terrible combination of boredom and caffeine fueled minds.
Of these categories, my perhaps favorite two were the always reliable 1. America’s Obesity Epidemic 2. The Excessively Deep and Insightful Customer


The Obese Crew – I’m really not a mean person I promise. I’m sarcastic sure, critical sometimes, but not mean. I don’t care what sort of drink you get! It doesn’t define you or your underlying purpose in life. BUT I don’t get the rational behind this group of people. You’ve heard the saying, “super size me, but then add a diet coke, because I’m trying to watch my figure”. Yes, THOSE people.

Of this group, these by far aren’t the worst customers; they’re more interesting than anything else! I’m just saying, that you do realize when you order a Non-Fat Frappuccino With Extra Whipped Cream And Chocolate Sauce, you do realize you’re basically just getting a chocolate milkshake will all those calories that you keep telling me that you’re trying to “lose”. It’s more ironic than anything else! I get that you’re happy about watching you’re figure, and trust me I’m proud too! But hey, when we’re out of skim milk and when you walk 5 minutes before closing, please don’t yell at me. Trust me, if I could I would walk out to a barn, milk a cow for you, and bring you your low-fat milk shake in a golden cup.
NOW: If you don’t understand by now, I really don’t like people that order complicated drinks. It’s not even complicated drink with substitutes, that’s fine! It’s the drinks that literally make zero sense, that blow my mind. I understand food allergies, trust me, I get it. I’m lactose intolerant and my roommate is a deathly allergic nut, so I would LOVE to put in your drink soymilk or seriously washing a blender so that you won’t go into anaphylactic shock on the spot.


But when you walk into my store, wearing a stupid fedora, or a beanie, with tight jeans in 90-degree heat, in addition to a pompous attitude then yes, I’m going to judge you.
I had one girl come in this summer and ask me for a Grande non-fat Venti cappuccino with 8 sugars layered between each spot of foam.
Um Excuse me? But little miss, “I’m trying to watch my figure, plus they taste crunchy?” I’m sorry but do you do realize you are probably consuming more sugars in your singular drink than there are in an entire bottle of mountain due. How do you even figure out that you like such a beverage? If your motto going into a Starbucks is, I’m complicated and deep so let my coffee choices reflect that. Do you really think people are going to like you MORE based upon your beverage choices? The answer is no, I encourage, rather beg you to be normal and get a typical cup of coffee.


So, If you ever find yourself ordering a Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, with Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, with Extra-Whip, and Sugar-Free syrup or an iced coffee with no ice. I want you to just step away from the register and please take a moment to re-evaluate your life decisions. Because you might as well just ask for an extra shot of “I’m super high maintenance” while you’re at it. Just remember, that if your beverage is more than 6 syllables long, to preserve both of our sanities, you may want to start to re-evaluate your life decisions.

While working as the maven of early Monday mornings, you learn a think or two about people while working as a coffee barista.

Sure in your downtime on the clock, when you’re not cleaning or restocking food, you tend to participate in a plethora, let’s just say, ‘creative’ activities”. Of course it’s acceptable to channel your inner wizard, brewing bizarre beverages…

Honestly though, the crown jewel of procrastination: people watching.

Talking to the regulars, complaining about long hours, and of course who could forget being nagged by customers that for some reason, no matter what you do, are just NEVER satisfied.

These astronomically complicated unhappy (often times elderly) assholes; often times didn’t even know anything about coffee to begin with! Living in a vacation town, during the rush hour from say 6 am – 9 am, on any given morning, I could always count on there being at least a handful of these goons.

Their tactics were simple enough; they would just stand at the register staring at the menu for, I kid you not 20 minutes. Trying to quiz me about the differences between black coffees, Americanos, cappuccinos, you name it. Asking about whether we used fresh shots of espresso or not, asking me to fucking diagram a latte, and of course always curious as to whether our smoothies used fresh fruit. Critics of the coffee community, listen, we’re honest workers and it’s not my goal in life to try to jip you out of a good cup of Joe! Now, FINALLY after asking a million questions about what type of beverage they’ve selected, they’re ready to order.

When honestly you feel like just saying….

But no, you have to listen to this annoying customer who apparently can’t understand life. They go on to ask,

“How fattening is this? Can you make that Lo-Cal, one Splenda, stirred into it and then funnel the milk slowly, No that’s wrong you definitely did that wrong”

First of all, fat and flavor go to together; just swing for the whole milk, I PROMISE it won’t kill you. Secondly, I don’t even know what funneling means, this isn’t alchemy, this is a freaking cup of morning coffee and you’re ruining my day! And finally, above all else after this ordeal, my fake smiling and sometimes forced laughed, guess who would conveniently forgets to tip.

Among these terrible people, my employees and I could always sort them into categories. Which after awhile, became somewhat of a game between us.

A terrible combination of boredom and caffeine fueled minds.

Of these categories, my perhaps favorite two were the always reliable 1. America’s Obesity Epidemic 2. The Excessively Deep and Insightful Customer

The Obese Crew – I’m really not a mean person I promise. I’m sarcastic sure, critical sometimes, but not mean. I don’t care what sort of drink you get! It doesn’t define you or your underlying purpose in life. BUT I don’t get the rational behind this group of people. You’ve heard the saying, “super size me, but then add a diet coke, because I’m trying to watch my figure”. Yes, THOSE people.

Of this group, these by far aren’t the worst customers; they’re more interesting than anything else! I’m just saying, that you do realize when you order a Non-Fat Frappuccino With Extra Whipped Cream And Chocolate Sauce, you do realize you’re basically just getting a chocolate milkshake will all those calories that you keep telling me that you’re trying to “lose”. It’s more ironic than anything else! I get that you’re happy about watching you’re figure, and trust me I’m proud too! But hey, when we’re out of skim milk and when you walk 5 minutes before closing, please don’t yell at me. Trust me, if I could I would walk out to a barn, milk a cow for you, and bring you your low-fat milk shake in a golden cup.

NOW: If you don’t understand by now, I really don’t like people that order complicated drinks. It’s not even complicated drink with substitutes, that’s fine! It’s the drinks that literally make zero sense, that blow my mind. I understand food allergies, trust me, I get it. I’m lactose intolerant and my roommate is a deathly allergic nut, so I would LOVE to put in your drink soymilk or seriously washing a blender so that you won’t go into anaphylactic shock on the spot.

But when you walk into my store, wearing a stupid fedora, or a beanie, with tight jeans in 90-degree heat, in addition to a pompous attitude then yes, I’m going to judge you.

I had one girl come in this summer and ask me for a Grande non-fat Venti cappuccino with 8 sugars layered between each spot of foam.

Um Excuse me? But little miss, “I’m trying to watch my figure, plus they taste crunchy?” I’m sorry but do you do realize you are probably consuming more sugars in your singular drink than there are in an entire bottle of mountain due. How do you even figure out that you like such a beverage? If your motto going into a Starbucks is, I’m complicated and deep so let my coffee choices reflect that. Do you really think people are going to like you MORE based upon your beverage choices? The answer is no, I encourage, rather beg you to be normal and get a typical cup of coffee.

So, If you ever find yourself ordering a Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, with Extra Shot, Extra-Hot, with Extra-Whip, and Sugar-Free syrup or an iced coffee with no ice. I want you to just step away from the register and please take a moment to re-evaluate your life decisions. Because you might as well just ask for an extra shot of “I’m super high maintenance” while you’re at it. Just remember, that if your beverage is more than 6 syllables long, to preserve both of our sanities, you may want to start to re-evaluate your life decisions.

(via myowndreamworlde)

June 6th, 2013
If you don’t watch Duck Dynasty, it’s frankly probably because you suck and are not truly living the AMERICAN DREAM. Seriously, snap out of it, not only are you’re missing out on one of the greatest and most interesting casts of all time! Within the cast, my all time favorite happens to be semi- what this post is about today!  Introducing the one and only UNCLE SI ROBERTSON. Full of whippersnapper remarks, he makes me laugh like an wheezing asthmatic.



I don’t know what it is about reality TV…



Oh wait yes I do…
Actually yes I fucking do, but I’m ashamed to talk about it. 
Anyways, while flicking through channels, when I stumbled upon this show I basically almost peed my pants when watching it for first time. Aside from the many shenanigans and crazy family dynamics that exist on duck dynasty, bottom line this is the best reality show ever. Watch it. Now. Just one episode. You. Will. Be Hooked. 
But always, back to the central point of this post. So, here’s a little story of all about how my day turned into a full blow episode from Duck Dynasty. To keep things short, I’ll start by providing some framework and saying that my dad is a dentist.

NOT a normal snore and drill dentist by any means. He’s one of kind, seriously my best friend, the type of dentist that has zero social graces and says the most bizarre things which are majorly politically incorrect, but make famfam roar with laugher.


Providing himself with a rapper name (yes, you heard right, a rapper name) from my middle school years onwards, the name “Toothy T” just stuck and is needless to say is central to our house.


^
Bitches ain’t shit, he could have rolled with the best of them
.
Anyways:




Full of shenanigans and any sort of tomfoolery nonsense, he’s typically our ring leader and has the most OUTLANDISH ideas.  He’s the tits, the cat’s meow, bombdiggify off the hook, ultimate man-dude-bro-father-primate-caveman-fratstar daddio. it would be an understatement to say that I LOVE my dad, because he’s 100% my PIC (partner in crime). 
Anyways, it was this morning that I spontaneously decided to begin my summer vacation by soul searching. Thrilled that I may enter the exciting world of dental hygiene, (ahhhaa, sike) I came into his office to try to begin figure out my life plans. Do I want to be an astronaut, maybe not. Do I want to be a feminist rights advocate, far too much estrogen. How about a doctor or a lawyer, oh so you mean every jewish mom and dad’s dream? haha alright. So yeah, shadowing in a dentists office, you get the picture, FUN RIGHT. 

^ lollolololol my ideal profession
Yet it was all worth it, just to meet this one patient. Looking back up to the picture of Si, note the beard and squinty eyes: I swear his doppelgänger walked straight into my father’s practice
I had never seen such a rugged individual in my life. Sporting a Paul Bunyan beard, missing teeth, and possessing somewhat of a southern accent he was hands down the MOST bad ass man to have walked in all day. I was honored to be sitting next to him, road-kill stench and all. 


Mountain man sat down and explained to Toothy T that he had two teeth which were killing him and need to be, “yanked right out”. Having been in practice for quite sometime, my dad then began to prep the man asking if he would like to be numbed or inhale a low dosage of laughing gas in order to reduce the pain: all seeming pretty rational ideas to me.
Personally, if someone were to drill my mouth and tear into my flesh with tiny metal knifes, not only would I be requesting pain killers I would be demanding them.

GIMME DEM DRUGS DOC, I don’t wanna feel no pain no mo. So a minute or two passes and this guy to my surprise has seriously been contemplating about whether he wants to have the pain reduction medication or not.
………………………………. is that even an option? fo real?

Finally, he decides turns towards my father and straight up refused everything. Requesting that my dad pull out his teeth MEDIEVAL VIKING STYLE. Imagine middle age torture devices, then asking politely for them to be used in a modern day medical procedure. I’m sorry, but what?  

Uh hell yeah I was shocked. I’d never seen an extraction before and frankly I did not want this to be my first experience. Yet, I couldn’t help but listen to the the little voice in the back of my head which yearned to see this. Could this guy really bear the pain? Oy vey. Ugh. Anyways, Toothy T stared long and hard at that man, finally saying, “you’ve got to be shitting me right?” pulling out a rather intimidating looking 15 inch pointy-death-blade prodding his sensitive gums. I don’t know how Mountain Man wasn’t having an
a) sudden change in opinion over the medication
or 

b) full blown fucking panic attack
One minute the blade is hovering above the cavity, the next moment my dad is pulling the guys teeth out in less than 10 minutes flat, cutting and slicing incisions everywhere! MYSTERY MOUNTAIN MAN DOESN’T EVEN FLINCH. no pain medicine, no nothing. Toothy T told me after the procedure that in his 20 years of practicing, he’s never had a patient refuse any sort of pain medication before. Existing as one of the biggest badasses I’ve ever met in my iife, I’d like to take this moment to appreciate the apparently high pain tolerance of this ungodly man. In a dental office today, mountain man tangoed with the devil.

Not only do I now want to abandon all hope of getting a professional degree, I now have a new aspiration. Full of ever-greens and chopping lumber. I’ve finally decided, the gangster life is the life for me. If you want mad street cred and props in all aspects of life, you should hop along my band wagon and join me in my new quest where I’ve adopted this motto, “yohoyoho the Mountain Man’s life for me”


http://www.duckcommander.com selfless promotion for duck dynasty. it’s quacktastic 

If you don’t watch Duck Dynasty, it’s frankly probably because you suck and are not truly living the AMERICAN DREAM. Seriously, snap out of it, not only are you’re missing out on one of the greatest and most interesting casts of all time! Within the cast, my all time favorite happens to be semi- what this post is about today!  Introducing the one and only UNCLE SI ROBERTSON. Full of whippersnapper remarks, he makes me laugh like an wheezing asthmatic.

I don’t know what it is about reality TV…

Oh wait yes I do…

Actually yes I fucking do, but I’m ashamed to talk about it.

Anyways, while flicking through channels, when I stumbled upon this show I basically almost peed my pants when watching it for first time. Aside from the many shenanigans and crazy family dynamics that exist on duck dynasty, bottom line this is the best reality show ever. Watch it. Now. Just one episode. You. Will. Be Hooked. 

But always, back to the central point of this post. So, here’s a little story of all about how my day turned into a full blow episode from Duck Dynasty. To keep things short, I’ll start by providing some framework and saying that my dad is a dentist.

NOT a normal snore and drill dentist by any means. He’s one of kind, seriously my best friend, the type of dentist that has zero social graces and says the most bizarre things which are majorly politically incorrect, but make famfam roar with laugher.

Providing himself with a rapper name (yes, you heard right, a rapper name) from my middle school years onwards, the name “Toothy T” just stuck and is needless to say is central to our house.

^

Bitches ain’t shit, he could have rolled with the best of them

.

Anyways:

Full of shenanigans and any sort of tomfoolery nonsense, he’s typically our ring leader and has the most OUTLANDISH ideas.  He’s the tits, the cat’s meow, bombdiggify off the hook, ultimate man-dude-bro-father-primate-caveman-fratstar daddio. it would be an understatement to say that I LOVE my dad, because he’s 100% my PIC (partner in crime). 

Anyways, it was this morning that I spontaneously decided to begin my summer vacation by soul searching. Thrilled that I may enter the exciting world of dental hygiene, (ahhhaa, sike) I came into his office to try to begin figure out my life plans. Do I want to be an astronaut, maybe not. Do I want to be a feminist rights advocate, far too much estrogen. How about a doctor or a lawyer, oh so you mean every jewish mom and dad’s dream? haha alright. So yeah, shadowing in a dentists office, you get the picture, FUN RIGHT

^ lollolololol my ideal profession

Yet it was all worth it, just to meet this one patient. Looking back up to the picture of Si, note the beard and squinty eyes: I swear his doppelgänger walked straight into my father’s practice

I had never seen such a rugged individual in my life. Sporting a Paul Bunyan beard, missing teeth, and possessing somewhat of a southern accent he was hands down the MOST bad ass man to have walked in all day. I was honored to be sitting next to him, road-kill stench and all. 

Mountain man sat down and explained to Toothy T that he had two teeth which were killing him and need to be, “yanked right out”. Having been in practice for quite sometime, my dad then began to prep the man asking if he would like to be numbed or inhale a low dosage of laughing gas in order to reduce the pain: all seeming pretty rational ideas to me.

Personally, if someone were to drill my mouth and tear into my flesh with tiny metal knifes, not only would I be requesting pain killers I would be demanding them.

GIMME DEM DRUGS DOC, I don’t wanna feel no pain no mo. So a minute or two passes and this guy to my surprise has seriously been contemplating about whether he wants to have the pain reduction medication or not.

………………………………. is that even an option? fo real?

Finally, he decides turns towards my father and straight up refused everything. Requesting that my dad pull out his teeth MEDIEVAL VIKING STYLE. Imagine middle age torture devices, then asking politely for them to be used in a modern day medical procedure. I’m sorry, but what?  

Uh hell yeah I was shocked. I’d never seen an extraction before and frankly I did not want this to be my first experience. Yet, I couldn’t help but listen to the the little voice in the back of my head which yearned to see this. Could this guy really bear the pain? Oy vey. Ugh. Anyways, Toothy T stared long and hard at that man, finally saying, “you’ve got to be shitting me right?” pulling out a rather intimidating looking 15 inch pointy-death-blade prodding his sensitive gums. I don’t know how Mountain Man wasn’t having an

a) sudden change in opinion over the medication

or 

b) full blown fucking panic attack

One minute the blade is hovering above the cavity, the next moment my dad is pulling the guys teeth out in less than 10 minutes flat, cutting and slicing incisions everywhere! MYSTERY MOUNTAIN MAN DOESN’T EVEN FLINCH. no pain medicine, no nothing. Toothy T told me after the procedure that in his 20 years of practicing, he’s never had a patient refuse any sort of pain medication before. Existing as one of the biggest badasses I’ve ever met in my iife, I’d like to take this moment to appreciate the apparently high pain tolerance of this ungodly man. In a dental office today, mountain man tangoed with the devil.

Not only do I now want to abandon all hope of getting a professional degree, I now have a new aspiration. Full of ever-greens and chopping lumber. I’ve finally decided, the gangster life is the life for me. If you want mad street cred and props in all aspects of life, you should hop along my band wagon and join me in my new quest where I’ve adopted this motto, “yohoyoho the Mountain Man’s life for me”

http://www.duckcommander.com selfless promotion for duck dynasty. it’s quacktastic