All posts tagged: Starbucks

That’s What She Said

A Short List of Utterances Made by Yours Truly During Last Night’s Flyers Game (Which I attended with my former flat mate, his fiancé, and Date #6, who had the sorry task of sitting next to me during my first NHL game ever…) First Period: What is everyone shouting?  Oh.  Let’s go Flyers.  That makes sense. Do you think they have Starbucks here? So [former flat mate] and [flat mate’s fiancé], I went to this wedding last weekend and the bride and groom did this amazing first dance, complete with lifts!  Are you guys going to do lifts at your wedding? You really should.  In fact if you started taking lessons now… wooooooooooh!  Wait!  What just happened?  Why is everyone cheering? Second Period: They should add rhinestones to their jerseys.  Then they could blind the other team when the lights reflect off of their shirts. How do you get to become one of those girls who skates around the rink shoveling the ice?  And how come the guys don’t wear skimpy outfits?  You know, for …

The Pittsburgh Saga, Part 2

On Sunday morning, Date #7 tells me to put on a pair of sneakers. “Sneakers?” I ask.  “Seriously?  I hate sneakers.”  It’s true: I don’t wear sneakers unless I absolutely have to, especially this time of year. “Well we’re going to be outdoors,” he replies. “Are we hiking?” “No.” “Then I can wear sandals.” “I guess.” “Can I wear a dress?” He shrugs and finally tells me I can. Pssssh.  Surprises are sweet and romantic and all but they don’t make for easy wardrobe selections and seeing as I’ve managed to cram four pairs of shoes into my weekend bag (sandals, sneakers, platforms and stilettos), I have quite a few options to pick from. I settle on my sandals and my blue and white wrap dress and we head down to the car. “I hate to be one of those people,” I begin, “but can we stop at a Starbucks on the way?” Date #7 doesn’t drink coffee and having scheduled my visit immediately following the celebration of my 26th birthday, it was only through …

It Would Seem as Though I’ve Been Stood Up

Judging by the contents of my table at the coffee shop, I’ve been stood up.  This is because there are two iced drinks at my table: an iced chai with soy milk (my all-time favorite this time of year)* and an iced latte (also with soy milk, although not nearly as good as the chai). Why do I have two drinks?  I wish I could say it was something dramatic—something like having been stood up—but the truth isn’t nearly as interesting.   The barrista simply heard my order incorrectly and thought I’d asked for a soy latte instead of a chai latter with soy milk. Usually I don’t make a fuss when this sort of thing happens; I’ve worked retail and I never, EVER want to be the sort of problem customer who I used to rant about when I worked at The Shop. But it’s hot. So hot that the Philly schools closed early two days in a row last week. I want my iced drink. And I want the iced drink I ordered. So …

Date Me, New and Improved

After a week in the Middle of Nowhere (Hooper’s Island, MD), I’m finally returning to civilization.  As I mentioned on Monday, my next date will be my fiftieth.  The way I see it, my big Five-Oh ought to be monumental because I’m tired of these lame Center City rendezvous in which I’m left to pay for my own drink, buy my own dinner (ice cream) and make my own way home, all the while wondering was that a date or did I miss something? To this end, I’ve been re-writing all of my online dating profiles.  (I keep trying to delete my Plenty of Fish account, by the way, because aside from My Three O’Clock, the “fish” are just creepy.  But P of F, evidently, is the Hotel California of dating sites: you can check in any time you like but you can never leave!  If anyone knows the secret to permanently deleting your account, I’d be much obliged.) Earlier this week, one of my readers asked if I’d post my new-improved-profiles for everyone’s “viewing …

Please Step Away from the Cinnamon Bun

The Charlotte Douglas International Airport is a force to be reckoned with.  Starbucks outnumber restrooms and Cinnabun franchises—don’t even get me started on the moral dilemma that constitutes the Cinnabun.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist the delicate aroma of caramel-coated pecans when they’re stationed throughout the airport at twenty foot intervals?  Trust me: it’s hard.  Nearly impossible.  Especially when you’ve been up since 4:00am. In order to get from Gate E (where my flight from Tallahassee landed shortly after 8:00am) to Gate C (where my flight to Philadelphia was departing shortly after 9:00am), I had to pass not one but two Cinnabuns, numerous smoothie joints, half a dozen designer luggage shops and no less than three Starbucks. On account of the fact that I am still sick (what a surprise) and spent the majority of the weekend’s conference trying to time my nose blowing to coincide with the requisite rounds of applause that followed each presentation, I decided that a thousand calorie cinnamon bun drenched in sugary icing and …

Writing Wednesday: A Day in the Life

Yesterday, I completed my first interview, by which I mean my first interview in which I was the interviewee and not the interviewer.  Despite the relative anonymity of the correspondent in question (a friend of a friend who’s writing a blog about writing), the experience was rather surreal.  I found myself saying things like, “I can squeeze you in at 12:30 before my date at 1:00,” and “I’m going to have to put you on hold for just a sec while I order my drink.”  (It was a phone interview, I was at Starbucks and thanks to my late-night date night on Monday, I was in desperate need of caffeine). When did I become that person? The entire experience got me thinking: what advice would I give to would-be writers?  And what does a typical day look like for a freelancer? “I’m extremely blessed,” I explained.  “I teach part time and I write part time and I make just enough to make ends meet.  Most people don’t have that luxury!” And it is luxurious… sometimes.  …

The Empire Strikes Back

On the occasion of yet another afternoon’s humiliation suffered at the hands of Temple University, the anthropologist in me feels compelled to offer a few remarks on the difference between institutions of higher education in the country of my birth (the US) and those in the country of my choice (the UK). (It’s either that, or smash something and seeing as I’m currently seated in a coffee shop drinking from a ceramic mug that’s not exactly mine, I should probably restrain myself.) For the sake of providing the proper context for my “anthropological” observations, I should explain that a year ago, I got in touch with the chairwoman of Temple’s Dance Department to schedule an informational interview. Despite the fact that I spend the majority of my time writing about text messages and high heels, I do occasionally aspire to greater things, i.e. a PhD.  My first choice would be to high tail it back to the UK for the continuation of my studies but I figured I owed to myself to make an educated …

Of Snowflakes and Stalking

To celebrate Wednesday’s snow day (and reward myself for having shoveled the entire sidewalk and driveway), I decided to be truly decadent.  First, I rummaged through my mother’s closet for a dress to wear with my new tights, then I went to the bank to deposit this week’s paychecks and finally, I trudged up the gray slush of South Street (which is gray and slushy even when it doesn’t snow) and headed to Starbucks. There I ordered a medium chai latte, a bottle of Ethos water and an egg white breakfast wrap. Did you know that a whole grain bagel contains 320 calories whereas a whole wheat wrap filled with vegetables and protein contains only 280?  I didn’t.  Obviously I’m not eating Starbucks bagels any more… or those yummy looking but equally treacherous raspberry scones— 500 calories a piece! It so happens that my splurge costs a bit more than the $5 gift card I got for Christmas from one of my students but the upstairs seating area is perfect for writing so I didn’t …