Java Juggs

Bikini Baristas! I can now say that I have officially seen one with my own eyes and it wasn’t all that I hoped it would be. For the past year or so, women who brew espresso have been popping up everywhere in Western Washington sans clothing. Sure, they wear pasties and thongs, but really – those don’t count as clothes.

There are a few things that I would like to point out which I simply don’t understand:

#1. In Western Washington it rains and is cold for 364 days in the year. Do these young women not get cold? I feel like I should start a clothing drive for them so that they don’t freeze to death. I will call my drive, “Blankets for Bimbos” and collect said blankets at bikini selling businesses throughout the Puget Sound area.

#2. Believe it or not, witty and wonderful I used to sell coffee – and I LOVED IT! It was really the best job I ever had. However, I would like to beg the question that has floated around in my mind since I heard of this concept: Who rolls out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to open a stand at 5:00 a.m. and WILLINGLY wants to put on a bikini and/or costume and/or pasties? Throughout my barista days, I could hardly get my hung-over body out of bed to put on a Carhartt Hoodie. These women have GOT TO BE hard up for the cash.

#3. I have heard the arguments for and against the elicit coffee stands and I am really at a point that as long as they employ people, pay their taxes, and don’t give out sexual favors where I can see, I could really care less. I mean, look how long Hooters has made their girls wear those hideous nylons with their shorts?! They should be shut down based solely on their fashion faux pas. (or the girls that work there should sue the pants out of the corporate offices for making them wear such awful uniforms. Hooter girls – if you are reading this, I will totally represent you!)

#4. Point number three never really had a point, so with this point (#4)… why haven’t the naysayers brought up the issue of safety and litigation? If one of these girls accidentally spill coffee down their stomach or other womanly areas, they could be seriously injured and sue the owners. Let the girls wear what they want, but make them wear a Visqueen Plastic see-thru track suit for goodness sake! Besides, I don’t want my tax dollars going to defend them after they have been burned. I have people on welfare to support (duh)!

So all in all, they are out there trying to make a buck, and I think that’s great. It is a super fun job and when you’re single, you can do as you please! I am sure not all the girls do favors for money but I would like to warn any of them who read this to avoid writing down that they work for ‘Java Juggs’ when trying to gain real employment.

When I asked my husband to pull around so I could see a real life bikini barista, he thought I was insane, or had the possibility of lesbian tendencies. However, now that he is reading my blog, he knows it was a tricky ploy for good writing material. I will probably never get coffee from one of these places but the experience of seeing the trauma first hand was shocking and very educational – it really does exist. My husband, poor sap, realized all too quickly that these women are just like strippers – laden with zits and faces of steeds.

Drink on, I told him. Drink on…

Effing Recession

There comes a time throughout the recession where we all need to sit back and really take personal inventory of our financial situations. I am not immune to this. I have had to forego many things that I like to do in order to save money for vacations. These things include:

• Only having an espresso drink once a week;
• Buying shoes on sale;
• Buying generic brand aspirin;
• Limiting my clothes shopping to JUST Saturday mornings;
• And making my own lunches

I am fully aware that these are not huge strides, but thankfully my husband and I are still gainfully employed and the ramifications of our nation being in the toilet haven’t fully impacted my life.

Making my own lunch every weekday morning has been a real chore. Not only do I have to plan to wake up a tad earlier, I also have to tell my husband what to buy at the grocery store. Yes, you read that right, my husband does ALL of our grocery shopping (neener, neener!). At any rate, it is burdensome but I do what I must and carry a lunch bag to work nearly every day.

Today, however, was special. I decided that this morning, I would buck the routine and come to work without any food. Hence, allowing me no other option but to go to a fast food place to acquire rations. When I got to work, I immediately began my countdown to lunch. I envisioned the drive-thru where I would be ordering my meal and what the guy in the window would look like. Would he be the teenager variety with a pimpled face? Or a fat boy with rolls upon rolls of burger induced fat? Either way, I was excited.

When lunchtime finally arrived, I was ecstatic! I quickly jotted a note to my boss asking him if he wanted food, flashed him a smile and flew down to my car. I was going to get fast food today! I love fast food. I love the idea that I can get a hot meal for cheap, its fast (hence the term ‘fast food’), and that all of it is deep fried. However, amid my obsession is the harsh reality that it is expensive if done often enough and it’s terrible for my health (which normally I wouldn’t care, but because there are men on earth, it’s not attractive to be 800 pounds).

I cruised around town until I finally decided that it was Arby’s that I needed to satisfy my hunger. I pulled into the drive-thru (palms sweating and a smile plastered across my face), placed my order (roast beef and French fries), and giddily extracted my debit card from my wallet. I pulled up to the window where I was asked what condiments I wanted as I paid and was handed the brown bag of goodness. Success!!

The whole ride back to work my car was scented with roast beef loveliness. I couldn’t wait to rip the bag open and dive in so imagine my surprise when I got back to work and everyone of my co-workers was missing from their seats. Getting to eat alone at my desk was a better treat than snow on Christmas morning!

I dumped my purse on the floor and opened my bag. To my utter dismay and horror, the realization hit… They only gave me ONE packet of Arby’s sauce. One. Just one. How could they do this to me? Arby’s sauce is what makes their food good and they cheated me of the one thing that I desired the most – a drippy Arby’s Roast Beef sandwich. Upon further inspection of the bag, I realized that I was only given one napkin. One? For a sandwich and fries, I get one napkin?

Comprehension of the situation at hand finally struck it’s nasty cord to the pit of my being. Arby’s was trying to save money through the recession on my dime. Disgust sank into my mind and suddenly I felt ill and unprepared to feast alone....

The effing recession had finally made its way into my brown paper bag of goodness.

Doggie Style

Every great American childhood has at least one pooch in it. Except for my daughter’s childhood. This is why my husband and I have decided that now it is finally time to start looking to adopt a dog to round out our family of three. Of course, in my world, this isn’t a simplistic process.

We used to have a dog by the name Ubu. She was a cute dog who I loved very much. The story of how I acquired her in the first place is a story all its own. The day I got Ubu was the day in which I took my first ‘mental health day’ from work. It was a day that I just couldn’t seem to muster the strength to yard myself out of a very cozy bed in which to work my tail off for a good nine hours. Instead, I convinced a pal to also skip work with me. He obliged and we met at the casino and enjoyed breakfast and good conversation.

After a leisurely breakfast, it was time to hit some slot machines and try our luck….By ten in the morning, we were both pretty drunk and I was up by about $500. It was then that I decided (after much discussion and contemplation1) that what I needed most in my life was a four-legged furry friend to spend my days with.

We arrived at the county pound around 10:15 a.m. and had to wait for them to open. Once they did, I spied Ubu and slurred to the pound keeper, “Weeee’ll take er!!” After a flourish of pen markings on a sheet of paper, I emerged from the pound with a dirt covered animal that was more than happy to leave doggy jail. My friend and I proceeded to the local grocery store where I loaded up on at least $200 worth of puppy supplies. From there, we promptly made our way to the Do-it-Yourself dog groomers where I polished my new puppy - I WAS IN LOVE!

I got home and didn’t know really what to do. So I took a nap. I awoke to a crunching noise that I couldn’t quite place. After staggering around my house for a bit, I found Ubu – delightfully eating my wall. I panicked before reality hit me and I realized that this was my dog2! I picked her up and brought her back to bed with me. I tossed and turned as I tried to get her to lie down. Finally, she rested right alongside me. After about twenty minutes of light sleeping, I awoke once again to the sensation that I wet the bed3! It wasn’t until I threw off the blanket that I realized it wasn’t me who wet the bed.

Needless to say – One wall, a drainage ditch, a gas furnace, five pairs of shoes, a couple of baby gates, a dumpster, two bras, a book, a movie, two video games, and numerous other items – Ubu had to go live someplace else. The only time she became destructive was when I went to work. After realizing that it was costing me too much money to go to work every day – I found The Ubunator a new home4 where she has happily lived ever since.

Now that we learned our lesson, we plan to get a new puppy. This time, my husband believes that if we get a pure breed, it won’t do as much damage.

His choice – a Labrador Retriever. Good luck to us!

1 About five minutes of drive time.
2 Holy crap! That wasn’t a dream?!
3 Gross. Not good.
4 My choices were that or permanent unemployment.