Don’t Mess with My Bevs.

My bestie (who I’ve mentioned once or twice or thrice…or more..) and I always laugh over an incident that happened at least three years ago when we went through a drive-thru for dinner on the way home from work.  I ordered a medium diet coke with my meal – which in these days is like a freakin’ extra large.  As we pulled away, I opened up my straw, stuck it in the giant drink and took a sip.

Me: “What. The. Fuck.”
Kirsten: “What?”
Kirsten: “What!?!”
Me: (Eyes wide, filled with rage) “THIS. IS. ROOT BEER!!!

Okay, so before you think I’m insane for going Hulk on a soda – it had probably been a long day at work and I was probably waiting anxiously for a refreshing DC when this happened.  It has nothing to do with the fact I should probably go to anger management at all.

Luckily, my bestie took one for the team and switched with me because she liked Root Beer. Good thing, there might have been a melt down if not (Kidding! Kind of).

Well, as I’ve mentioned before, my morning coffee is VERY important. More important than that Diet Coke was that day by a million. So you can imagine that after I had found out my alarm clock was broken, getting stuck behind two school buses that stop every 10 yards (Seriously, kids can’t walk more than a block these days? What is that?) on my way to the freeway and the freeway was packed because some nincompoops can’t drive in the rain/snow-rain/slush that I really wanted my coffee, and it had to be good.

I decide that because I’m running late, the convenience of Starbucks would be better than going to the local stand I like.  Boy was I wrong.  Somehow, a double tall soy caramel macchiato w/extra caramel translated as, single tall nonfat caramel macchiato extra hot.  It wasn’t until I was a few miles away that I tasted it and immediately wanted to spit it out because it tasted burnt.  I pull down the sleeve she put on my “extra hot” drink and see that it is not what I ordered.

Besides the fact I’m somewhat lactose intolerant, the taste of real milk in coffee disgusts me.

Don’t mess with my bevs. Especially my coffee.

Third-world, Seattle problems. I know. I’ll save my tears and put them in this shitty Starbucks cup.

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