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June 18, 2012 - Jen Zbozny
In my next life, I want to enjoy drinking coffee. I will saunter into one of those places with the goat or caribou or mermaid on it. I will know the secret, coffee-cult, alphabet rune-language that explains why those creatures mean coffee. I will order confidently. When I get it I will know whether I got what I ordered. I will understand which words end with “O” and “AH” and “EH” sounds. I will only utter soft consonants in a hushed voice so I don't disturb everyone.
Have you noticed that? Want to stir things up in a coffee shop? Say the phrase COLD COFFEE in a loud voice. Use definitive clarity on the first letters. People will start to twitch and give each other the stink-eye. Aak! But ohhh, mocha cioccolatte? They even spare you the harshness of the H. That’s why its ESpresso not EXpresso. Way too disturbing a sound for all those sleepy fiends waiting to be jolted back into existence.
I will be one of them. I will hide behind my newspaper and my laptop at the same time. I will deftly carry my delicious liquid companion while texting and finding my keys. Not like that time my Tupperware container of homemade potato soup spilled into the bottom of my trendy work catch-all and I didn’t notice it. Not until it ran all the way down the back of my left leg, slurped into my panty hose and made my shoe squidge.
Yay! New skirt for me that day! But Boo! I had to eat lunch out of my shoe.
No more of that for me! I won’t eat soup. “Just coffee,” I’ll say.
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