Back from the Dead

Weeks have long passed since my last post and I think the time's just right to get back in the habit.

Another busy season at work just came past me and that means several things. I have endured a handful of conflicts, uttered a dictionary of cuss words, filled myself with a truck load of bitterness, and held back a lake of tears. The short of it is, now, I'm writing before you all messed up by the worst busy season ever, angry, and definitely ready to go.

Death came to take me away, but now, I'm back. Oh, most definitely, friggin' back.

As I was tied up most of the time with the unholy work hours the past weeks, I only had a few moments to myself. The selfless person that I am, I chose not to devote those short moments to attend to my personal needs. I did not so much as go up and get some air. Rather, I chose to render public service. What would that service be, you ask? Well, it's just one word—paparazzi. There's a grammatical error somewhere there, but if you're really here to spell and grammar check me, I'm sure it'll be better to just move along. If what you're too concerned with is my writing style, then by all means, find something else to read, something which will more suit your ever discriminating taste. Stop wasting your time with this post and find something else to do. I'm sure you have a life. So, please, do me a friggin' favor and live it. As far away from me and this blog as possible.

Howkay, I've transgressed a bit there. Bear with me. Hehe.

Ah yes, serving the public as a paparazzo. I've enjoyed it the past year, but I must admit that it has been more fulfilling being one the past busy season. The short breaks that I had, I looked around and tried to look for disturbing sights. It has become doubly hard, though, because I have progressively been moving away from my 20-20 vision of the late 90s. Aside from that, my new phone does not take pictures discreetly. I couldn't mute the clicking sound it makes when it takes pictures, nor could I tame the flash.

Despite being pressed for time, having deteriorating eyesight, and being left with a paparazzi-unfriendly camera phone, I still managed to steal several shots worthy enough for a comeback post.


Same old, same old

Korean mob at it again.

Cold in the Scorching Summer Heat

Five words. Hagrid. Shemagh. Shades. Starbucks. Summer. Do you get the picture? I got it and I was laughed my ass off.


The Craig David Experience

The date was March 27, 2009 and there were five things.

One, Craig David was great.

Two, the crowd bombed.

Three, the only song the upper box peeps seemed to know was Insomnia.

Four, there was this guy in sando.

Five, there was this girl with her mobile phone who spent the whole concert, except when Insomnia was on, on her seat, incessantly texting her god-forsaken text mates of god-knows-what nonsense.

YOU'RE IN A CRAIG DAVID CONCERT, DAMN IT. STAND UP, DANCE, AND HAVE FUN!


Makati CBD and Guy in Tank Top

What decent Ayala Avenue corporate office would continue to employ someone who dresses up like a douchebag? Two things. This douche might not be employed in such an office or is employed by such but the Company itself is a joke.

I better not hear this guy complain about not getting a decent job. Because, mister douche, a decent job requires you to dress decently. You won't get paid by a show of untamed arm pit hair.


Get a Room, Dudes

PDA. PDA. PDA. Blech.

Wow. I've reached the end of this post, but for some reason, I feel that it's still not enough. Your girl right here is still full of bitter thoughts and ugly bitch fits to share. I'll give myself a few more days (or hours?) to come up with another post. For now, hope you enjoyed. I'll get back to you in a bit with, hopefully, a nasty take on my seatmates at work. Let's keep our fingers crossed until then.

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Post Valentine Edition]

Damn. I've been itching to write about this since after February 14th and it is only now that I finally found time.

By this time, I guess, the hoopla that was Valentine's Day 2009 has subsided (I'm keeping my fingers crossed). As I look back at it, I realize that this event is becoming more and more celebrated as years pass by. Year after year, there are more roses, more heart-shaped balloons, more heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, and more stupid couples.

Whoops, did I say stupid? Well, I should strike that now, lest I be accused of being a bitter and cold old lady (who only talks to her cats, haha).

Not that anyone is asking, BUT, I don't celebrate Valentine's Day. Well, at least, not like the rest of our pop culture society. Ah, don't call the bitterness just yet. I do have a valid and non-spinster take on this. February 14 has never been V-day to me. It has always been my Mom's birthday. I have always known this special day to be a family day and not as luveyduvey ka-corny-han.

This might've been the reason why I was soooo pissed off when this Lovapalooza thing was first held on V-day several years ago. Not that I found it sappy and lame (as an excuse to kiss in public). Well, I did, but those were just the secondary reasons why I hated it. The Lovapalooza crowds, in addition to the god-forsaken couples who concertedly went out on that one night, messed up traffic so badly, so much so that I was late for class.

Harumph.

Since then, I have known V-day not only as my Mom's birthday or a cutesy-patootsie excuse for couples to go out or a night when every friggin' resto is booked, but also as a solid reason to stay in and avoid the insane traffic.

Which brings me to this year's V-day post.

I avoided the Feb14 traffic this year, but, I was, in fairness, out that night. I was out...studying, that is. I went to my favorite Starbucks and proudly browsed through my readings as I sipped my warm coffee. It was actually a so-so night. I didn't expect to see anything close to a spectacle. Well, it seemed that I was too engrossed with my studying that I almost missed out on a promising candidate for my hitlist:


THE BITTER V-DAY SPINSTERS

Worse than ampalaya. Worse than Bridget Jones. Even no better than xtin.

Tell-tale signs (you know that there are Bitter Spinsters in your midst when):

1. There are a couple of girls sitting together.
2. They carry a single red rose. Identical to the rose each one has.
3. All of them seem to be enjoying the night.
4. There are sporadic outcries of, "I love being single!" or "Gahd! I'm so happy I'm not on a date tonight."
5. The group talks incessantly about their other girlfriend who is, in fact, on a date that night.
6. They end up laughing at the thought of how ugly or lame-ass their girlfriend's date is.
7. The conversation takes a turn for the worse All of a sudden, Pandora's box of bitterness is opened.
8. The ranting goes on: from being miserable (although not admittedly due to being single) to having a crappy job or being fired from one
9. The get-together ends with a closer like, "I'm so happy I spent tonight with you guys." [insert group hug]
10. It is, after all, Valentine's Day.

When I took my nose out of my Sales book that I was too engrossed with, I noticed that Starbucks was filled by groups and groups of girls. There was one pair of girls who caught my attention, though.

Bitter Spinster 1: [on the phone] Di'ba you're on a date tonight? Ha? Ano? Tapos na? Bakit?

Bitter Spinster 2: [listening in to the phone conversation] Ano? Bakit tapos na? Nyek!

BS1: Come here na lang. Go na! We want to see what he looks like!

BS2: [jumps excitedly like someone just bit her ass]

*an hour later*

BS1 and 2: [sees their Taken Girlfriend] HEY!

Bitter Spinster's Taken Girlfriend: [hands one rose each to BS1 and BS2]

BS1 and 2: AWWWW!

BS2: O, what happened on your date?

BS1: Oo nga, where is he?

Hala, ang mga ate, no such thing as privacy. Or being discreet man lang. And to think that this was their highest point of the night. Before Taken Girlfriend came, BS1 and BS2 were sulking in their "ruined" lives. BS1 spoke of getting laid of and feigning being fine. BS2 kept on talking about a boy who would probably fit in one of the chapters of He's Just Not That Into You.

Seeing them that way kind of gave me a certain joy. On paper, I think I was no different than these young women. Alone, so-to-speak. Unsatisfied at work. Bitter in general. I also understand how a night like the 14th of February feels a bit off, simply because I'm not celebrating love the way the rest of society is doing it. But hey, at least I don't call a girlfriend up, in the middle of her date, just so she could share with me how the date turned sour.

I could be bitter. But I will not attempt to uplift myself from the dumps at the expense of a friend. That's low. And cheap. Would rather do it at the expense of an idiot like...oh, and that's another rant right there...hahaha.

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Holiday Edition]

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…Jack frost nipping on your nose…
Although It's been said many times, many ways…
A very Merry Christmas to you.


There is something about Starbucks during Christmas that makes it more conducive for studying. Yes, I know how geekish of a statement that was. Nerd tendencies aside, though, I might not have grown fond of devoting so many hours for studying, but Starbucks in December makes the idea of studying more appealing to me.

The soft play of classic Christmas songs, the aroma of the Starbucks Christmas brews, and the cold breeze of December (or maybe just the AC) make up a good mix of lethargy and energy.

Unfortunately for me, there are other idiots who find the Christmas Starbucks appealing to them as well. Fact of the matter is, Starbucks actually fills out with MORE idiocy during the holidays than usual. You would think that the Starbucks crowd is homogenous throughout the year. For some reason, though, the usually annoying Starbucks parokyanos become extra annoying during Christmas time. It is as if the warm and fuzzy Christmas atmosphere is actually a breeding ground for nuisances.

As much as I would like to wallow in my Starbucks holiday zen, it would only take a seemingly enigmatic but annoying idiot to irk me and ruin everything for me. If in, say, March or August, it took me a few minutes to lose my cool upon seeing the Korean Mob or hearing an Enunciator, in December, it will take me half the time. Given that analogy, ladies and gentlemen, you don't have to be a genius to figure out that in December, however relaxing Starbucks actually is, I will be more irritable than usual. There may be less species of idiots than the rest of the year, but by god, are they quality idiots—definitely worthy of a bullet. Or two.

Presenting...

My Starbucks Hitlist (Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd): Holiday Edition


Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #1 DOUBLE STICKER ABUSERS

Desperate times call for desperate measures. That is if by "desperate times" you mean a desperate need to get the Starbucks planner and if by "desperate measures" you mean staking out until a specific time just so you could get two stickers instead of only one.

Tell-tale signs (You know that one is just a double sticker abuser if:)

1. You see a person sitting at some table, without a cup of coffee in tow, seemingly waiting for someone
   
2. That person stakes out at that table for an extended period of time
   
3. Suddenly, as the clock hits a particular hour, the person stands up and heads for the counter
   
4. The person excitedly finishes his/her purchase of one choice Starbucks beverage and enthusiastically extends his/her promo card to the barista
   
5. The barista puts not one, but two promo stickers on the card.
   
6. The person makes out a smile that extends from ear to ear
   
7. [On some rare, but highly possible, occasion] the person, while waiting for his/her order and upon hearing another customer tell the barista that he/she is not collecting promo stickers therefore he/she will waive his/her rights to the stickers, musters enough kapal ng mukha to tell that other customer, "Okay lang, akin na lang ang stickers mo?"
   

I don't think Starbucks still has the promotional campaign this year, but the kind of people such a promo produced in 2007 deserves a spot in my hitlist.

In the minutes leading to the select hour, Starbucks was usually filled to the brim with eager beavers. Those who were obviously delaying their purchase until such time that they could finally avail of the double stickers promo. It would have reminded you of how French Baker looks like half an hour before closing, when all of their pastries are marked down to half off. Well, at least the guys over at French Baker are waiting for the bread. The Double Sticker Abusers, on the other hand, would kill their own young and are simply waiting for stickers, for a free planner. Wow, right?



Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #2 THE BRITISH GRADUATE ISKOLAR

It's funny when Madonna pretends to have a British accent. But if a fugly, social-climbing creature does it, it would call for violence rather than humor.

For this particular nuisance, I would rather dispense with the usual enumeration of the tell-tale signs. Let me just begin by giving you a visual to aid your imagination.

Save these images in your head, okay? Now imagine this idiot engaging in conversation with the baristas, as he was unaccompanied and had no one else to talk to. Imagine him holding extended monologues about himself and what he does. Imagine him and his trying-to-be-a-female voice causing all this verbal ruckus…wait for it…wait for it…in English. Not just in plain English, with a run-in-the-mill American or even call center agent accent. Imagine him talking in a cheap British accent. Imagine the baristas, upon hearing such a unique accent, ducking under the counter to make faces or just give out a laugh.

Freak:[in his British accent, translations in brackets] I'm finish-aing my MA the-suhs [thesis] in YUPEHEY [UP, as in University of the Philippines]

Xtin: [SOLID NOSEBLEED yet in thought] POCHAH. Seriously?

I was enjoying a zen-like state in Starbucks Trinoma when I inadvertently overheard this idiot talking in a British accent. I was wishing so badly I had not heard the cheap accent. It was so disturbing that got into a blackout of sorts. I wasn't absorbing anything I was reading. I wasn't even tasting the goodness and richness of my coffee. I was trying to fight my first instinct of hitting him at the back of his head. I even tried to discreetly record his voice, but to my dismay, my recorder failed me. I ended up just taking a picture of him. Nice outfit, by the way.

It is also worthy of noting that the British bastard had a UP 100 jacket. At a point in time, he was wearing it over his shoulders, like a shawl, in such a way that the front part of the jacket [which had a blaring UP 100 written across it] was exposed for everyone to see. To my mind, he had to do that. He had to wear his jacket that way to broadcast that he belonged to a reputable educational institution. Otherwise, no one would think that he was educated at all. Who would? By the way he was acting and talking, of course, no one would have mistaken him as an ivy leaguer. "Social climber" would have easily popped in their heads. At least, that was what popped in MY head.

British pala ah. Coño ka ba kamo? Talaga lang. Eat shit, my friend. Eat some fothermuckin' shit.


Starbucks Holiday Nuisance #3 HOLIDAY DOUCHEBAG

P're, question…Malamig? Usher isdatchu? Or is it Chris Brown?

Tell-tale signs (You know he's a holiday douchebag if:)

1. He walks into Starbucks in his winter get-up, with a swagger of a champion
   
2. We're not in the US therefore, there's no winter
   
3. The winter outfit is nonetheless justified by either the AC or the cool December breeze
   
4. You feel the sudden urge to strangle this guy with his makeshift scarf
   

Gahd. After a number of posts on it, this might sound so cliché, but I sure do hate douchebag fashion. What annoys me even more is the fact that the coldness of December gives them some sort of reason to wear their horrendous style choices. Look at him:

He looks so comfortable, leg rested on the armrest, hand placed on the hat, body tilted to forming a convenient pose and all. He seems unaware of the impropriety of his outfit.

The scarf sure looks good—good enough to be a noose, right?


There you go. This might be the shortest hitlist of them all, but the nuisance factor is truly on a higher notch during the holidays.

Now that those nuisances are past me, I can now proceed with sipping my hot drink, sitting comfortably in my seat, and studying in my lovely Starbucks corner. I'm putting on my earphones now and shutting the rest of the world out, lest another nuisance walks in and breaks all hell loose.

[See other Starbucks Hitlists here]

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Part 2]

Do you have your rifles ready? Okay, then. Let's see what other kinds of people we'd find and want to shoot in Starbucks.

# 6 BOOM BOX (BF, Katipunan, Rockwell, Trinoma)

Get some earphones, idiot.

Tell-tale signs (You know these idiots are in the house when:)

1. The normally relaxing music in Starbucks is suddenly overpowered by some other song, typically unbecoming for Starbucks
   
2. You look around to try and see where the sound is coming from and realize that it's coming from a stupid gadget
   
3. The gadget is spewing out music at a rude volume level, typically requiring of earphones
   
4. You stare at the idiot down who owns the gadget and see that he's enjoying the music and that he also might even start dancing or singing along to his heart's content.
   
5. You suddenly acquire a most unwelcome LSS (last song syndrome—Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur [the fur], the whole club was looking at her…she hit the floor, next thing you know, Shawty got LOW LOW LOW LOW LOWWWW)
   

I like "LOW" as much as the next person, you know. But when I'm in Starbucks, I'd rather bask in the mellow ambience of the establishment. I do not pay P100+ for a cup of coffee just so I could listen to your rendition of some Cher hit. I do not go there just so I could witness a showcase of your new laptop and media playlist. I have my own, thank you very much. And, unlike you, I can afford earphones, dumbass.

I couldn't care less if you're into hip-hop, house, RnB, or pop. I won't give a crap if you're into Fi[f]ty Cent, Celine Dion, or Salbakuta. I won't mind, really. But that doesn't mean you could thrust upon me your poor taste in music. More so if it is coming from some cheap contraption of yours. Tutuktukan kita, eh.




The losers in the video, aside from being a one-cup-for-all-all-for-one-cup gang, came to Starbucks Rockwell with their little el cheapo MP3 player, blasting Ne-Yo's "With You" (replay the video and you'd notice that you could clearly hear the song playing from their table). Gahd, people, can you be more lame? If you want it so badly to look like gangsters, at least play true gangster music, not luvey-duvey love songs by cutsie RnB singers…I like the song, yeah, but it's people like these losers who turn the songs I love into cheap and jologs novelty songs.


#7 ENUNCIATORS (BF, Katipunan, 6750, Gateway)

I swear I don't want to eavesdrop, but the loud mouth in the next table is making life difficult for me.

Tell-tale signs (You know if these loud mouths have arrived when:)

1. There's a pair or group of people in the next table who are in deep discussion
   
2. One member of the pair or group is noticeably talking at the top of his/her voice, enunciating
   
3. You are thrown off your concentration
   
4. You suddenly feel that you've become part of the conversation going on in the next table
   

It's nice that people like to talk to their friends. What's not is that I'm not a friend, but I could still hear, LOUD and CLEAR, what the F the other table is talking about. Thanks to the resident loud mouth. Don't get me wrong, though. These enunciators have kept my stay at Starbucks very interesting. Not only do they impart little life lessons [sarcastic cough], they also are funny as hell. Hilarious. Ridiculous.

This is the Gamer-Enunciator and friend. I came across the two of them a couple of months ago. The guy in the striped shirt was waiting for the other guy and when the chubby guy arrived, all hell broke loose. The chubby guy, aka the Gamer-Enunciator, spent what felt like three hours discussing in full detail and complete passionate reenactments of his favorite computer game and game techniques. Pow. Bam. Kaplow. He was enunciating every little game advice he was giving to his friend that I felt that everyone else in Starbucks that day became a better gamer, even just a bit. Of course I had squat of an idea of what he was lecturing his friend on. I could not even quote a complete sentence from him because I had no idea what he was talking about except that I knew that it was a computer game. That is just why the whole thing became more unbearable for me. I wanted to go to their table, smash a bottle on his head, and say, "Shut up, geek!"


#8 WHERE'S THE PARTY?-PEOPLE (Katipunan, Valero)

I was not aware that Starbucks had a dress code. Party attire mandatory.

Tell-tale signs (There is no doubt that the party animal turned up when:)

1. You go to Starbucks in your most casual and comfortable, close to homey, get-up
   
2. A group of people enters, each member wearing some retarded outfit announcing to everyone that he/she has just gone from a major party, with one wearing an item of clothing in gold
   
3. The group moves around like they're on a catwalk of sorts, with one or two of them almost always on the verge of giving a killer pose and as if wanting to be watched in slow-motion
   
4. The whole establishment seems to stop in its tracks
   
5. You suddenly feel inadequate and underdressed
   

A huge pet peeve of mine is fashion victims. I don't like it when people dress up inappropriately, more so if they do and think that they could pull the stupid outfit off. I hate it when these retardates go about the earth as if every place they go to is one big event. News flash, genius: it might've taken you half a day to put that look together, but even long hours couldn't keep you from looking fugly. And, going to Starbucks in that joke you call an attire makes your punch line more hilarious.

#9 CAFFEINE-LOVING PARENTS & SUGAR-RUSHED KIDS (BF)

There's a reason why Jollibee has a play area and Starbucks does not.

Tell-tale signs (You know if the Goin' Bulilits from hell are in when you:)

1. Are having a peaceful coffee-break
   
2. See that an evidently married couple walks in with their adorable little girl or boy
   
3. Notice the kid/s enjoy all the chocolatey goodies they could get their hands on
   
4. See a couple of banshees jumping up and down the place
   
5. Suddenly realize that there no banshees, only the adorable kids who have escaped the supervision and authority of their parental units and have decided to run amuck

In the picture, I caught the kid making his KSP act just so his mom would look at him. After a few minutes, true enough, this same kid was running around the store and the mom couldn't care less of the havoc his unreasonably rambunctious kid was causing.

Kudos to family time. But if you know that you can hardly control your kids, don't bring them to an adult place like a coffee shop and have them run around like crazed gremlins, let alone feed them sweets and goodies that will induce a sugar rush. You know you're not bad parents, but it sure as hell makes it hard for everyone else to see you in the same light when your issues are being irritatingly noisy little brats. If you're not one who'd strap your kids on a leash, do us all a favor and not give them sugar.



That'll be it for now. Don't despair, though. I'm sure I'll be spending a lot more time in Starbucks and there'll be a whole lot more opportunities for people-watching and idiot-bashing. I might even see the people who have been part of the hitlist and give you unprecedented updates. Until then. I'm sure it won't take me a long while.

Part 1 of Starbucks Hitlist

Namedropping Should Be a Crime

It's final exam season once again. And, as expected, I have established a camp of sorts in Starbucks. I've been spending so much time there that I am typically overwhelmed with all the an-away-a-day material I come across.

This scenario is just one of them.

Background: A woman enters Starbucks carrying at least five boxes of what I think were pastries/yummy goodies from the Conti’s next-door.

The barista on duty sees the woman and the boxes she was carrying.

Barista: [impressed] Wow, ang dami naman po niyan.

Woman: Ah, ano ito eh [insert name of pastry], bigay ng owner [insert name of owner]

B: Ah, okay.

W: [smug] Friend ko siya, eh.

xtin: [in thought] WENONGAYON KUNG FRIEND MO? MAY NAGTATANONG BA?


Ugh. I despise namedroppers. They think they’re all that because they “know” certain people or that these certain “important” people know them. Eat shit. I don’t and I won’t give a rat’s ass if you once knew the Sultan of Brunei. Or if you once dated the neighbor of the cousin of the cook of the Sultan of Brunei.

Nor would I find it impressive that you got five boxes of goodies from your friend, the owner of the restaurant. To my mind, I can get the same five boxes by simply paying for it. The two of us will get the same stuff, in the end. I paid for them and you, on the other hand, freeloaded. What’s so special about that?

I guess it’s good that you know of someone “important” and have conveniently benefited from this relationship. Okay lang 'yun. But please, don’t walk around with a smug look on your face, thinking that you’re better than everyone else just because you have this potentially fictitious friendship with this certain important person.

Get this.

Dingdong Avanzado is my cousin.
Philip Salvador is my ninong.
Carmina Villaroel used to be my neighbor.
I went to the same high school as Kitchie Nadal.
I have had my picture taken with FVR and ERAP, on separate occasions.
I shook hands with Ramon Magsaysay Jr. during EDSA II.

No big effin deal?

Yes, it’s not a big deal. It’s not because it shouldn’t be.

If it’s not you who is “important”, what makes you think that knowing someone who is will make you any different?

Starbucks Hitlist [an update to part 1]

A couple of months have passed since the time I promised a second installment of my Starbucks Hitlist. I’ll be making good my nasty promise in a few weeks or so. Really. Need not worry. But before proceeding to it, I think it is only fitting to revisit Part One of my hitlist and give you some updates. I know you want it anyway, wehehe. Have your pistols ready, then.

KOREAN MOB slash ALL FOR ONE CUP, ONE CUP FOR ALL

These Kimchi Martians (pun intended, sorry) were very much on the freeloading prowl again. All these pictures were taken in a span of 6 hours in Starbucks BF (as expected). The air was filled with their back-of-the-throat murmurs and gibberish. There was excitement as if there was a birthday party of sorts. And, to my surprise, there indeed was. They occupied at least one-third of the tables and when this one girl entered the store, they broke into what I could only fathom as the Korean version of the birthday song.

NOTE THAT NOT ONE OF THEM, NI ISA MAN LANG, ORDERED ANYTHING FROM STARBUCKS. TABLES ARE TOTALLY EMPTY. COURTESY TOTALLY LACKING AT THIS POINT, EH?

The nerve of these people really. WALA na ngang mga order ang mga ito, nasikmura pang magkakanta at mag-celebrate ng birthday party? Wow ah.

Kill me, please, kill me.

ALL FOR ONE CUP, ONE CUP FOR ALL: PINOY (JOLOGS) VERSION

These Jay-z posse wannabes, douchebags really, were also caught freeloading. And you thought only foreigners have the nerve to do this shameless deed. Pinoys are precisely more notorious at it, mainly because most of us have the tendency to social climb and, at the same time, be parasitic. Take these idiots as examples. They were a group of at least five, I think, and only one of them bought a cup of Starbucks coffee just so they could be seen hanging out at the café. Honestly, they were misplaced in the area. For one, they wore these cheap-thus-hideous gangster get-ups. Two, they even had this little mp3 player that blasted what they thought was gangster music (this is a separate category in my second installment of this hitlist…coming very soon). Talk about JOLOGS. No wonder. Freeloading is simply their second nature.



CAMERA WHORES

Recall in my original post that I included pictures of camera whores who were not the STEREOTYPICAL camera whores, as indicated by the tell-tale signs (teeny boppers taking their own pictures, etc.)? Well, I’m very proud to say that I was graced with the presence of THE STEREOTYPICAL CAMERA WHORES… teeny boppers, bangs, Frappucinos, and all. Batteries not included, though.

Sighting happened in Starbucks Greenhills Theater Mall. Good thing these girls only took a few shots. Had they taken one more shot, I would’ve hung myself then and there.


THE BROKEN-HEARTED AND THE SHOULDER-TO-CRY-ON

When I came up with the first installment of my Starbucks Hitlist, in speaking of “the broken-hearted and the shoulder-to-cry-on”, what I had in mind was the image of two females, one distraught and broken, the other so eager to listen and supportive.

Upon a subsequent visit, though, to Starbucks BF, this particular hitlist category has somewhat evolved. Apparently, males also can fill in the shoes of the broken-hearted and the friend-in-time-of-need.

The two guys, to cut it short, were obviously gay. At first, I thought they were talking about some business venture or something. The problematic between the two of them was sitting nearer the window in a baby blue, starch-crisp polo. I say problematic because it was evident in his tone of voice. I could readily sense his infuriation and frustration by the way he squeaked at the end of his sentences.

I was listening in to their conversation not because I wanted to, but because, again, it was hard for me NOT to overhear them. And of course, it became a little more interesting. It was, I must say, a truly unbelievable conversation.

Background: The Broken-hearted Gay apparently had, just recently, broken it off from his boyfriend. This boyfriend of his was Chinese. His boyfriend’s mom supposedly found out about their relationship and, him being pure Filipino, was completely unreceptive and suspicious of him. And so he says…

Broken-hearted: Grabe, talaga ang mom niya. Noong nakita ako, sinabi daw n’un mom niya tignan daw ang butt ko, baka meron daw akong [insert unintelligible terms].

Shoulder-to-cry-on: Omaygad…

xtin: [thinks] Nakupo! Why in the world did I have to hear that? Why, lord? Why?

Unbelievable? Believe it. I’ve heard about airing dirty laundry in public. But his was literally filthy.

Dishing out these updates only confirms how on-target the tell-tale signs I’ve come up with in identifying these Starbucks dwellers are.

So…shooting spree, anyone? Oh, wait. Not just yet. Wait for the second installment of the hitlist, that way there will be better chances for us to actually bring someone down. Hehehe.

My Starbucks Hitlist: Deconstructing the Starbucks Crowd [Part 1]

I want to go on a shooting spree.

I must admit that I’m a bit fixated on Starbucks right now. Can you blame me? It’s where most, if not all, of my material comes from. It has become THE venue for me to go people watching, simply because it is THE only place I’ve gone to in the past weeks where there are other more interesting people to watch.

Now if you know me and what this blog is about, you’d know that I love people watching, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I love the people I watch. I actually hate them. I get pissed off while observing them. That is precisely the irony I live in. I love people watching because I love getting pissed off by the people I hate.

I suppose hate is too strong a word. Oh, sorry…it just might be TOO WEAK. When I sit down in my corner, open my books, sip my iced (nonfat) classic chocolate, and start to allow the presence of other people to disturb me, we’re not simply talking about HATRED. Think big. Think shooting spree.

Based on a year’s experience gained through studying at many different Starbucks, here is a list that I have conjured of the kind of people you’d meet in Starbucks (and would want to shoot), the tell-tale signs in spotting them, and which Starbucks branches you’d probably have sightings of them:


#1 Korean Mob (BF Parañaque)

Lately, going to Starbucks has been like warping into masterful Koreanovela episode.

Tell-tale signs (You know that the Korean Mob is in the establishment when you):

(a) notice a HERD of adolescent Asians who look like each other
(b) see them with either a wild pair of footwear or an unbecoming Sunday dress (or both)
(c) note that their hairdo is either curly or poker straight, but will always have bangs, either way; if it's a guy, the 'do is most probably going to be the Bruce Lee cut
(d) hear them mumbling nonsense in loud, well-modulated voices that seem like its coming from the back of the throat
(e) catch them running, with exaggerated excitement, to the unoccupied set of Starbucks couches, noisily dragging their heels all the way across the floor—thereby causing one solid disturbance to the disadvantage of everyone else who was unfortunately in the store
(f) feel like they are EVERYWHERE

NOTE: SAME TABLE. TWO DIFFERENT GROUPS. FYI.

This may sound so racist, I know—that part I’m not particularly fond of—but I’m so freaking fed up with seeing these Koreans everywhere. It’s a freaking invasion! For some reason, they move in packs. You’ll rarely see one walking lonely into the night. That is just one of the many ENDEARING things about them. This group is so APPEALING that you’d find them in a few other categories on this hitlist.

Although it has been a year that I have shared my favorite Starbucks with these Koreans, I have neither acquired a taste for their presence nor developed immunity to it. Most of the time, they have not so much as stepped foot on the store floor, I already want to pull out a pistol—and shoot myself.


#2 Camera Whores (Eastwood, BF, Trinoma, Gateway)

One more flash and I promise you, magbibigti talaga ako.

Tell-tale signs (You know you they are Camera Whores if they):

(a) are a group of teeny boppers (or teeny boppers at heart) who have their digicams perpetually in tow
(b) bunch up so closely together while sipping their Frappucinos just so they could fit within the frame of a shot
(c) pose for a picture with either a Blue Steel, Magnum, or a generic slutty Wink, or a Gucci Gang take
(d) have one of them take the shot herself whilst ALSO posing for the picture, holding the camera as she raises one hand in the air
(e) take pictures of themselves, as described in a,b,c,d, in an endless number of repetitions as if Starbucks was their own personal studio, thereby blinding you with the irritating flashes that come out of each damn shot.

I know you know them. Maybe you may have, even once in your life, become one of them. Ugh. If I wanted to spend my time watching fugly model wannabes, I’d just watch Wowowee or something. I won’t go all the way to Starbucks and watch the bitches whore up their cams. If I had one successful suicide attempt for every time these Starbucks Camera Whores take an idiotic picture of themselves, I would have died so many times enough to qualify for genocide.


#3 All for one cup, one cup for all Group (Katipunan, BF, Rockwell)

1 cup=10 people. Or worse, no cup at all. Call them freeloaders, if you will.

Tell-tale signs (One can easily spot these impoverished Starbucks dwellers by noting):

(a) an unreasonably large group of people, those the size of a Korean Mob [supra]
(b) that only one or two from the group orders a drink or a pastry goodie
(c) that they are the ones who have the guts to occupy half of the seating area and talk so loudly as if they own the place

Starbucks is utterly lenient in dealing with these vagrants that they are easily taken advantage of. That is why there are more and more people who go to Starbucks, but who really can’t afford to do so. Again, hanging out at Starbucks won’t make you sosyal. It’s not a status symbol. If you have been a loser a great deal part of your life, hanging out at Starbucks with a herd of your co-loser friends and simply watching other customers drink their lattes won’t magically make you the next IT-girl/guy.

Go to Starbucks. Hang out. Build a fort inside the establishment, should you so desire. I don’t care, really. But, order a damn drink naman…a short café latte at least! Malulugi ang Starbucks niyan sa inyo, eh. They just might have to start charging all of us for their own systems loss.


#4 The Broken-hearted and the Shoulder-to-cry-on (BF, Katipunan, Gateway)

Sometimes, it takes a cup of coffee, a couch, a friend, and a jam-packed coffee shop, full of curious individuals, to comfort one emotionally stricken individual.

Tell-tale signs (you know they’re the-broken-hearted and the shoulder-to-cry-on when):

(a) a pair, most of the time a pair of two women, sits in the most discreet corner of the establishment
(b) they start up talking in whispers, but evidently talking about something really important and issue-intensive
(c) one of them suddenly wells up, sobs to death, and occasionally makes remarks like “He’s such a jerk” or “’Di ba? Ayoko na, hindi ko na kaya” you could easily overhear
(d) the other makes out a pitying expression and utters something as cliché and irritating as “O, don’t cry na. Okay lang ‘yan.”
(e) when you suddenly feel the drama of it all

I admit that I, myself, several times in my life, have aired my dirty laundry at some Starbucks. Now, I strongly feel that I should not have done that. Seeing these drama queens flooding the shop with their tales and tears of heartache does not make me empathic. It makes me feel ashamed for them for letting me view the free daytime soap opera.


#5 30-ish, 40-ish on their post reunion gimmick-slash-after-party (BF, Katipunan, 6750)

Mahirap talaga ang tumatanda—habang tumatagal, napapaghalatang repressed.

Tell-tale signs (You know you’ve spotted these old-timers when you):

(a) see a big group of middle-aged men and women, in very dressy and color-coordinated outfits (the color coordination being the result of a themed party) and with nametag stickers
(b) hear sporadic bursts of laughter that bring down the house, with one strong laugh overpowering the others, that of an old man that sounds a bit like Santa Claus laughing
(c) feel as if you’re going down memory lane
(d) notice that the group has gone to double its population within the first hour it came in the shop
(e) figure that they’re staying until the shop closes…at 2AM.

But maybe they just have some catching up to do. These people are not particularly irritating. It just feels like they’re so misplaced in Starbucks and that pisses me off just a bit. Shouldn’t you all be at home tucking your kids in and acting like typical parents would? Repressed, people. Repressed. Parang mga kabayong na pinakawalan sa koral.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A Dancer and an Archer-Hater in Starbucks

I actually have more interesting things to rant about than this, but the timeliness of relaying this story is vital. This story may go untold for just a week and the humor in it could already diminish significantly, by then.

This is my story.

In an attempt to distance myself as far away as I can from my bed and to avoid giving in, yet again, to one of my notorious slumbers, I packed my trusty messenger bag and went to Starbucks Katipunan to study.

When I got there, the most familiar ambience greeted me: the place was not so jam-packed (as it WAS a Saturday night after all, only a geek like me would rather spend time catching up on lessons I've lagged behind from than, I don't know, doing some thing more un-geeky), it was filled with people who are familiar yet I haven't met, and it was reeking of a signature smell, the type that clings on to your clothes, of a mixture of both burning cigarettes and brewing coffee. I look around one more time and say to myself, "Ahh, yes, Starbucks. I'm back," not in a contented and subtly jubilant manner so much as it was just an acknowledgment of that reality.

In any case, there has never been a good reason behind my being in Starbucks, for the past year at least. I go, very rarely to hangout, but more often to study. And that, my friends, I think, is never a good thing. Well, the nouveau geek that I am, I may make it sound like it's not as bad as I thought it would, mainly because for whatever reason it is that I am in Starbucks, one thing's for sure: I'm bound to find something interesting lurking around the establishment. And, as if on cue, two people worthy of MY anawayaday attention, came to close proximity.

STARBUCKS FIND #1 THE ARCHER HATER
Backgrounder: I was, yes, eavesdropping in the conversation of this group of four people. Although the main character was mostly enunciating everything, there were times their conversation simply became incomprehensible. But from what I gathered, they came from a party, the main character at least as she was dressed as if the themed party barfed on her, they were all ATENISTAS, and the main character has recently had an encounter with a LASALLISTA whom, I think, she likes (or not anymore) and who was flirting with her in some way.

ARCHER HATER: (talking about her Lasallista prospect) So, tinanong niya, "Always bang issue ang Ateneo-La Salle sa inyo?" Eh ako kasi nasanay ako na puro Atenista. Marinig ko pa lang na Lasallista ang tao, negative na agad! 'Pag Lasallista, iisipin ko agad [insert some incomprehensible talk], "Ang yabang!" Ang sama 'di ba? Pero, PUH-RUNG, ganun talaga 'ko lumaki.

Aww. Poor LASALLISTA. This ATENISTA does not and will not like you, ever. It's just too bad that you wear a green shirt on your back. She just sees you as, I don't know nor am I ultimately sure, someone not worthy of an ATENISTA.

To my mind, this LASALLISTA character the ARCHER-HATER is ranting about is as disturbing as the ARCHER-HATER herself. What kind of creep would ask if the Ateneo-La Salle thing will always be an issue? I think I've heard that one before. Oh, yes. In Pinoy Big Brother…TEEN EDITION! Say it with me…JUVENILE!!

All of a sudden, the topic shifts from the LASALLISTA PROSPECT GUY to the DLSU PEP SQUAD:

ARCHER HATER: …[I heard] Okay na ang pyramids nila…finally ba nag-improve na? For the longest time... [insert more incomprehensible talk]

Well, I couldn't blame ARCHER HATER for this one. Nakakahiya naman talaga ang Pep Squad ng La Salle (cue La Salle spelling cheered as A-L-S-A-L-L-E). A very valid point. Hands down.

Apart from her distinctively annoying enunciation, I wasn't that pissed off. I was just amused on how she was confidently proclaiming all her LASALLISTA bashing over at our side of Starbucks, completely unknowing that a green back was actually eavesdropping on their conversation. Hehehe. It was nice to be undercover. Nice and hilarious.

STARBUCKS FIND #2: THE DANCER (MARIBETH BICHARA, ISDATCHU??)
When I was done listening in to ARCHER HATER's conversation, I went back to studying. But as I decided to stretch my arms first before finally going back to business, I turned my head to my left and noticed a very interesting character. Not only was he blowing his nose oh so loudly quite often, he was also engaged in a physical activity not considered as conventional Starbucks behavior.

Author's tips in watching the video: #1 watch for the snap of the head (00:29) #2 wait for matching hand movements (00:52). And, yeah, I would like to apologize for the orientation of the video. I was recording with my phone and I had to do it in a way the guy would not notice that I was taping him. I have no idea how to change the orientation and rotate it. Well, for that matter, here's tip #3: tilt your head to the right.

Can't control those dancing feet (or head or hands) much? He must've been listening to one damn good dance song! I was utterly distracted every time he made those sudden movements in his corner…pero SHOCKS!!! PANALO!!!

There. My trip back to Starbucks was like hitting two birds with one stone. I got to study (which is not that great, though) AND I got back on the people-watching track. The geek in me is very satisfied.

They say douchebag. I say pathological loser and poser.

...Slash Gigster...
...Slash idiots-who-wear-what-they-see-other-people-are-wearing-and-think-it-looks-good...
...Slash FG/FB (Feeling Guwapo/Feeling Beautiful).

I could go on and on. Or I could simply take a slash at my wrist to end my life right now because these people are so freaking...ugh. I could consider them the cornerstone of this blog.

Because, really, the only thing worse than that white douchebag in the picture, who ,in essence, just like all the other crack*r douchebags, is just pretending to be a cool black guy, is a pinoy douchebag, who, in turn, is just imitating a white douchebag, completely unknowing of the bigger shit he has allowed himself to become. And that, the pinoy douchebag, is one of my biggest pet peeves, if not the biggest.

You could just imagine how I am when I go to the mall or just anywhere. I am pissed, most of the time, because pinoy douchebag membership has gone haywire. Their chapters are everywhere. Shit. Like when I want to grab an Original Glazed doughnut from the 4th floor of Trinoma. My day is inevitably ruined as I stumble upon a number of kids who are in the stereotypical douchebag get-up.

Let's have a recap of the anatomy of what they call a douchebag and how I call such a, erm, look:

1. They say, “Hat tipped at perfect angle”, I say, “Gigster cap”.
   
   It’s how rappers have done it for the past few years and a flock of their following has decided to sport the same style…without understanding why the cap is tipped that way. It has a meaning and a purpose, I promise, but they’d rather go for the look alone rather than expounding on what it stands for. You know these people. Those who have their dreadlocks done without finding out that it’s really a religious practice rather than a stupid ‘do. Those who wear Che Guevara shirts, but don’t even know who Che Guevara is. Asar right? You'll see these caps on people, who, most of the time, appear on Sunday noontime shows like SOP Gigsters.
   
   On most people, it just looks so…amusing. Case in point:


Even I was once imprisoned in a douchebag state of mind:





2. They say, “Popped collar”, I say, “Collar-up”.
   
   This term I first heard from Mo Twister. I’m quite sure you’ve seen at least a bunch of these beings who wear collar-ups. You know, when you’re walking around some place like the Power Plant, you suddenly come across a guy who’s so generic? Collar-ups, waxed-up ‘do, and all? You could imagine him using “bora” and “dude” in most of his idiotic sentences? Yep, them.
   
   In my case, I’ve seen most of them in Starbucks, as usual. Sipping their Americanos, looking all, well, fresh…case in point:
   
   One I’ve seen in TriNoma, no shock there…





3. They say, “Extra small shirt”, I say, “Show-us-your-pecks shirt”.
   
   These so-called clothing, albeit a size too little, is a testament to everything that is loser-y (douchebag-ish). You must realize that losers know, deep in their heart of hearts, that they are losers. But of course, they’ll never admit to it. They’d rather operate on all their defense mechanisms: the tough, gym-built bod, signature wardrobe, bad-ass wheels, etc. All these simply to hide what they fear of revealing: their true identities. So these little shirts just show that they spent hours in the gym because they want to tell us that they’re cool, bitchin’, hot (tssss…)…
   
   As for me, the bigger the bod, the smaller the shirt, the more asinine the loser you really are. I haven’t papparazzied an exhibit of this type of douchebag yet, so I’ll update you later.
   
   
4. They say, “Stupid-ass grin”, I say, “Lebron? Isdatchu??”
   
   Chin up and give it your most maangas look. It’s really a gangsta look that often reminds me of Lebron James, because of his Nike ad. I guess if a real gangsta strikes that pose, it’s kind of cool, I guess. But if some ghetto ass does it, well…see for yourself. Case in point…




5. They say, “Chinese lettering tattoo”, I say, “It’s probably just henna gotten from a cheap Puerto Galera outing”.
   
   Trust me, it’s not the real thing. 90% of the time, it’s just henna from Galera. But if the dumb-ass is really desperate and zero financing for his tattoo desperation, better think that it’s shoe polish. Black-ink permanent marker, even.
   
   Again, these losers think they look tough with these tattoos? Well, you’re not fooling me. I know for a fact that you have half an idea what that Chinese character really means. Dumb-ass. It’s like those ghetto pinoy gangs…they name themselves after the “Chinese Mafia”, but vandalize the walls with their signature graffiti “Chinese MAPIA”. Shit. I’ve seen it once in Don Galo. Maybe I should have a trip back to that area so that I could paparazzi that stupid graffiti. Yep, I’m going to do that one of these days.



6. They say, “Livestrong band”, I say, “Bad-ass bangketa bracelet”.
   
   If I were Lance Armstrong, knowing that I started this Livestrong band trend for a really admirable cause, then seeing people like Billy Ang Batang Baller (cue Mike Villar’s Atrocities of Friendster), who sport the band as if it’s a, I don’t know, a mark that they’re tough and shit, I would feel so depressed. I guess every pinoy gangster wannabe has it because it’s the only accessory they could afford (3 for 10 pesos?), well apart from their bangketa bling, the stunning sterling silver pieces the manong tindero vows is impeccably silver, with matching "dip it in vinegar" demo. Shit.

There you have it. That’s just a run down of everything loser-y. I’m hoping I’d have future entries that will specifically deal with each characteristic in greater detail.

Shit. I just realized that I’ve finished this entry and I feel so irritated for some reason. I hate losers. Posers!

G.A.R (Get a room)

As I am still awaiting the final printing of the consolidated financial statements of our client, I have this lull time to blog a bit.

I marched back to another Starbucks last week, for yet another review/study session. I was feeling a bit squeamish, but it was mainly because I was a bit sick with sore throat, cough, and fever. I was, again, minding my own business in my little corner on the second floor of this Starbucks, browsing endlessly through the pages of my Hector S. De Leon textbook, when suddenly, my radar, instinctively, turned itself on.

I look to my left and my brain is bombarded by familiar words. PDA. PDPI. GAR.

Public display of affection.

Public display of physical intimacy.

Get a room.

A lean on the shoulder. A brush on the thigh. A kiss on the cheek. A breath on the ear. Endearing, much? As much as I would like to be happy for this "happy" couple, I can't. I wasn't exactly pissed off, but I was uncomfortable just the same.

Why do most couples engage in such a broadcasted way of expressing their feelings? I know that they feel like no one is watching, but do they really believe that even in such vulgar circumstances, no one would notice? Big mistake, really, unless they have always intended to be watched and scrutinized.

Good thing I was able to take a shot of how things looked. This will add to my collection of paparazzi moments.

Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha, & Miranda in Starbucks

I have found the chance to escape from office pressure and resume my Starbucks life. It's final examination season, anyway, and it's really time for me to hit the books.

As I was busying myself with matters of obligations and contracts, I notice four guys at the counter. At first glance, they didn't strike me as metros (metro sexuals) nor as anything out of the ordinary worth watching and exerting effort for. Two of them were wearing pambahay shirts. One looked as if he just got out of his bed. Another had his beer belly hanging over the waist-line of his cargo shorts, the kind with pull-strings at the end. I

At that point, nothing I noticed was typical or stereotypical of anything worth watching. At most, I remember asking myself why and how trashy people like them prefer Starbucks. They don't fit the description really.

That was until they stationed themselves at the four couches immediately next to my table and started talking.

Their frappucinos came and as they settled themselves, one of them suddenly spewed out, "I feel young when I'm in the south," in a familiar over-enthusiastic, almost all-knowing, pa-coño, effeminate, voice.

I look up from my book, took a glance over my left, and saw those four same guys in a whole new light. The one talking had his back against me so I couldn't see his face (thank God). I swear I saw at least one of them sipping a strawberries and cream frap. And there I had it, I was in the midst of four gay men who did not fit the gay stereotype physically, but were overqualified, audio-wise (and drink-wise).

This guy who started talking about his youth, explained his statement by going on with something like, "…I don't know because here," apparently referring to Parañaque as opposed to some northern Manila location he frequented, "there's less pressure. I could relax more," Yadda, yadda, yadda. These guys went from Piolos to Mojo Jojos. And in terms of Mojo Jojo himself, from level one gay to level five gay.

I found this guy laughable for one thing. He struck me as the type who was trying to impress people with his call-center brand of English. You know the kind. People who feel that they sound coño, but to the ears of others who actually know the difference between proper English and social-climbing English, they just sound foolish.

I often come across and get ticked off by people like gay guy number one. So I didn't really see the point of continuing to listen in his self-serving stories.

A few moments from the last disturbance from gay guy number one, I look up again from my book, because of what I heard, this time, gay guy number two say.

"I need a wallet. Maybe you guys should give me a wallet," said gay guy number to who sat across gay guy number one and whose face escapes my memory. Probably not so presentable, as it was forgettable, by my standards.

"Okay. We'll buy it from Penshoppe," said gay guys number three and four who were sitting to the left of one and two, nearer to me.

Two goes, "Eeew!" and some more statements condescending to the mentioned local brand. Ultimately, he was meaning that he'd rather be caught dead than caught keeping a wallet with a big Bench or Penshoppe logo stamped across the damn thing. "BEH-HENCH…PEH-HEN-SHOPPE…" He said, making his voice bigger and making hand gestures as he described how the big logos would appear on the supposedly icky wallet.

What does this guy think? That he's some socialite who only deserves signature handbags and wallets? (cue montage of DJ Montano)

They began to sound like the girls from Sex and the City who liked to talk about Guccis and Birkins. Problem was, Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha were in New York and were actually socialites, sexy, and hot. And gay guys one, two, three, and four were simply stuck in a Parañaque Starbucks (on a Saturday night), trying to sound socialite-ish, looking (and sounding) ghetto and cheap. They were everything but Sex and the City.

(in picture Charlotte, Carrie, Miranda, and Samantha)

Their laughs suddenly filled the air as all four of them found humor in the Bench/Penshoppe comment. Gay guy two suddenly gets a new idea for a witty comment and spews out, "McJim!" referring to a brand of leather wallets usually sold in bangketas, as gay guy number one put it, and in most mid- and low- end department stores. Alas, they broke into laughter again and all the more louder. Note that this seemingly hilarious episode came from a group of guys who came into Starbucks sporting the same thing they woke up in, brandishing an effortless out-of-bed 'do (naturally oily and spiky, mind you), and most probably wearing the same stench they woke up with.

Enter my two cents. Ano bang akala ng mga baklang ito? Na magaganda sila? Na if they do get LV or Coach wallets that it would look real on them? Eat shi*t, dearies, I say. It's not bagay din naman on you, why have this wishful thinking pa? Irita.

As if intentionally luring me into their conversation (which has turned out to be this week's winner), gay guy two says, "I think I'm going to buy Crocs."

Gay guy one then reacts, "Eew! Yuck! Crocs? Really?"

"Huh? Yeah, Crocs. They look good naman,eh. Especially the new design that they have, they don't look like normal Crocs, they look like shoes…They look good!"

"Crocs never look good!" Exclaims gay guy one. "I swear, if you buy them, I swear, I'd stop being your friend! You're not going to be my friend anymore!"

As gay guy one was proclaiming his hatred of Crocs to the whole left portion of Starbucks, gay guys three and four were giggling and seemingly seconding the motion of gay guy one, in their own discreet manner.

Gay guy one seemed to make a solid argument with his Crocs-equals-no-BFF mantra, that gay guy two suddenly sinks in his couch looking all embarrassed and defeated.

Looks like gay guy two will never get those Crocs, after all, as he might be risking one of the most important friendships he has in his life. Poor number two, for two reasons: One, he won't get the thing that he wants. And two, he gets stuck with gay guy one.

I don't know why these guys pissed me off. Is it because they sounded so trying? Or was it that I owned a pair of Crocs myself? Either way, I hated them.

(in picture: CROCS, gay guy one, apparently his trailer-park, out-of-bed porma is too good for CROCS)

I tried to zone them out of my study space so that I could get on with my review, which I successfully accomplished. I missed much of their conversation. I know that hearing the rest of it would have been enriching for me, but I had to get back with my own business. I have an exam coming up and I had to attend to that first.

I left Starbucks last night, before gay guys one, two, three, and four did. That could've been the last time I would hear from those cheap and gay imitations of Sex and the City's Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. One thing's for sure, though…if I get to see or hear from them again, I would gladly indulge myself again with listening in to their idiotic conversations, getting ticked off, laughing my ass off, and blogging about it.