Coffee Spills

What I hear and see and think about at the coffee shops I patronize.
Brisk. Fresh. Well-balanced. Occasional nutty and bittersweet overtones.
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Thursday, February 22, 2007

Writing on the butt

A young teen was standing in line at the coffee shop today with her dad wearing gray sweat pants. Written across her bottom was ABERCROMBIE. Why is her father not telling her she's asking men to read her butt? Fathers: it's your job to explain the facts of boys' lives to your daughters.

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Saturday, February 10, 2007

A very trusting group

Today I stopped at a Starbucks after running some errands. Most of the people in the seating area appeared to be OSU students--maybe 18-23 years old--all but one with laptops on the table. I could overhear the phone conversations of the men in front and behind me. One young lady across from me was well-mannered and took her cell phone calls out side--and it is bitterly cold today. However, I noticed when she went to the rest room in the back of the store (a long way from seating because it is a very long, narrow room) she left her bag with her laptop and purse open on the chair, her i-pod on the table, and her cell phone sitting on top of her text books. Another young lady came blowing in the door about the time the other one left, settled her self at a table, putting her huge bag with computer and books on the floor, and walked to the back (completely out of sight of the seating area) to place her order. I either look like a security guard or a very safe old lady.

What I heard at the Starbucks

I hear ya talking
on your new cell phone.
I hear ya talking
with your rockin' ring tone.

You talk and you talk,
what could be so grand?
You talk and you talk
about tonight's party plan.

Flirting with the ladies,
calling two or four.
Flirting with the ladies,
They should toss you out the door.

I hear ya talking,
You're a lonely S.O.B.
I hear ya talking,
with tears in your cold coffee.

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Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Sitting by the fire at Panera's

It's below zero in Columbus. The fire at Panera's and the classical music has never been warmer! A couple in their mid-50s enjoyed the table next to mine. He was tall, not over weight; she was maybe 5'6", quite thin, and had a voice much deeper than her husband's. She also left for awhile, so I assume she went outside for a cigarette. Upon returning, she pushed back her chair and propped her feet up on the hearth with all the grace of a mechanic or tree trimmer. Later she moved to an easy chair and laid her right foot across her left knee like most men.

Made me think of my dad who used to say, "Don't you know how to sit like a lady?" when I sat in a chair sitting on my feet.

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