Another day at Starbucks...

As many of you may know, I started working at Starbucks a month-and-some-change ago. The change in scenery and such doesn't seem to have affected my snark-levels. Anyway, here's something I wrote in regards to annoying customers:

We’re closed

Oh—
  I didn’t realize it was you:
THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN HUMAN HISTORY.

No wonder you drove on past that menu board—
  the one that says in red:
  THE STORE IS NOW CLOSED.

You are clearly too important
  (and too wealthy)
for us to ignore.

What can I get started for you?

All For A Little Money

I woke up too early this morning. 

My right eye too blurry. 

Why do I do this shit? 

For money?

I am an artist! I don't need money!

Oh wait. 

I see Sallie Mae over in the corner with a lead pipe.

Maybe I should just suck it up

 and keep on going for a while. 

Do I Want My MTV?

People bemoan the downfall of MTV, but they fail to notice its inherent problem: 

If MTV was still Music Television and not the Mindless Teen Void, it would still suck ass. 

How much ass? All of the ass. 
And then some. 
It would suck so much ass that the world would owe MTV ass to suck. 

Don’t get me wrong, I would love to see more of my favorite bands on TV, but that just isn’t going to happen. Judas Priest won’t educate us on the merits of breaking the law, nor will Iron Maiden run to hills. 

What we will get is corporate bullshit. Coming up, the latest from Nickelback, followed by Green Day’s new hit “Remember When We Were a Punk Band?” But first, here is “Sexploitation” by Jailbait Blond. She didn’t write, hell, she didn’t even really sing it, but fuck it. You’ll buy it!

MTV is dead, and we should be thankful. 

We live in a time where we get to be our own VJs.

Dear Mr. Taco Time,

How can you sleep at night knowing that you deceive your customers on a daily basis? That’s right, I know the secret behind your “Mexi-Fries.” They’re not fries at all, but rather Mexi-LIES—tater tots in disguise! I bet you thought nobody would ever find out, but guess again, bucko! Not only do I know, but everyone who is either Mexican or has Mexican heritage knows. What, did you believe they would actually think that those were French fries, and  not reanimated potato refuse?

Perhaps this is even more sinister than it appears. Perhaps the vaguely racist sentiments expressed are intentional. French fries are sliced from whole potatoes, while tater tots are glued together from the scraps that remain. Are you trying to imply that Mexicans are the scraps not good enough to be a part of French society? HMM? 

But maybe your racism was unintentional. We can fix that. Let’s change the name. I suggest Taco-Tots. It has the “Three-A”s that people crave: alliteration, accuracy, and “allure.” What do I mean by allure? Not sure, really. I put it in there because people like groups of threes and I couldn’t think of a more relevant “A”. Well, it looks like I’m just about out of the 250 word limit that you FASCISTS imposed on me, so I guess I’ll leave you with this question: from what animal are the meat-flavored crispy burritos derived? Is it PEOPLE?!

The Abominable Cthulhu Rises Again

What hammer? What chain?

In what furnace is thy brain?

What anvil? What dread grasps

dare its terrors clasp?

He sleeps this night. He sleeps this dead.

In R’lyeh He sleeps, His non-euclidian bed.

Dare you dream? Dare you rest?

Dread Cthulhu has chosen you as His guest.

In what madness? In what dreams?

When the stars are right, you shall gleam.

There is no way out, no sanity.

This Great Old One is all you need.

He controls your mind. You’re His to own.

With Him at your side, you’re never alone.

What shall I do? What is my task?

You must rise with the others, dawn the masque.

What cult? What coven?

Throw the unbelievers in thy oven.

What swamp? What frightful day

will Cthulhu choose to rise again?

Tender are the Buttons

For a poetry assignment, we were asked to read Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein, and then do an imitation. I'm no Stein, but here is my attempt to capture some of her magic:

BEANS

Beans in a bowl. Faded beans. Faded in a bowl. Super Bowl Rose Bowl bowl of cereal big enough for two.

We let ourselves fade away. Fade away. Blend away. Blend to become one. Strive to become one. One in a pot. One in a bowl.

TOMATO

The flesh is soft the flesh is soft the soft is flesh. These pillows are deadly. Deadly pillows is weapons. I like pillow fights. I like pillow fights. I like pillow fights soft. Feel these pillows soft. Money was for convenience convenience is for money.

POTATO

Potato. Potatoe. Poe Tay Toe. Poe is the Raven. The Raven is dead. Like Poe. Poe is dead. In the dirt. In the dirt. In the brown dirt. Like the potato. Potatoes in dirt. Brown potatoes. Russet Potatoes. You can keep the Yukon Gold that falls. The gold that falls. Falls falls to the dirt. The potatoes. Potatoes in dirt.

A Horse, Of Course, Of Course.

You see a small child perched on a young man's shoulders. A toy T-Rex is being held next his face. The child's smile is wide, and his blonde hair hangs down, shaggy. The man below is also smiling, his dark hair swept to the side.

Quentin yelled, "Yee haw!" as he rode on my shoulders. He had just turned two the weekend before, and I was in town to pay my little nephew a visit. His T-Rex--a toy received at the birthday party that the snow prevented me from attending--walks, roars, and serves as a nemesis in the imaginary world of the toddler.