Today was a slow day/night. My friend M came to visit me today. She is from my hometown. She brought a few friends with her. I gave them about $10-$15 dollars worth of coffee and drinks for around $2.50. The blister on my finger starts to have a green whiteness to it and sort of resembles a sideways pimple. I think I may have gangrene and vaguely detect the smell of almonds. I got trapped in the freezer today. I was in there getting milk and suddenly the door closed behind me. The inside does not have handles. My eyes open wide and I am terrified. I start pushing at the edge of the door with all my might. It doesn't budge. I think about what it would be like to die in a freezer. How long it would take, what it would feel like. Would it hurt? Would I actually be frozen in one position? When will someone find my body? I am stuck inside for 10-15 minutes. You know how I escape? I switch to the other side of the door. I push it once and it opens. Apparently, the door does not latch and I was pushing the wrong side of it. The Russian was absent today. I hope for no return of her. My day is almost stress free because of her. Almost. The CD playing over head skips like crazy today and someone keeps having to run to one of the offices downstairs to change it. I have no idea where the office is because our basement is like a huge fucking maze. I know where I punch in and where I get the milk. That's about it. Tons of blondes pour through the door today. Each alone but every single on the same. Hair just a little bit too blonde but they all have perfect skin and make-up. I hate them and love them at the same time. Oddly enough they all basically order the same thing. Which is a Honey Vanilla Latte thought they change it up. Some order it with skim milk, other soy and the ones who will always be naturally skinny order it regular. A man named Juan Llamas gives me his business card today. Says he works at a marketing firm that is based out of L.A. Says to give him a call. I still have his card and every time I read his name, I think of actual llamas. But his last name is not pronounced "llamas," it's pronounced "yamas." Which in my bad Spanish translation mean "you talk/you call"...? Anyway, I like it. Llamas are my favorite animals. The Latino "thug" who works next to me at the salad bar only speaks to me in Spanish now. I know he knows English because he talks to customers and other employees in English. I wonder what his motives are and if I will have to bludgeon him to death sometime soon. Another friend J comes in tonight. I make her a smoothie that costs over $5 and give it to her cheap. We talk for about 10-15 minutes before my manager shows up and I go outside with her. She says her smoothie is good. We chat a little and then I have to go back inside. The owner of my cafe is called "the Mayor." He comes up to me behind the coffee bar when it is slow and tries to strike up conversation. It's hard to tell through his accent if he is Hispanic or Italian. It keeps changing. He asks me if I go to school and I tell him that I start at the end of the month. (Hopefully.) He says that when I do we can sit down and figure when I go to class so that I can still work there. He would like for me to "keep the working," and then he abruptly walks away. I wonder if I have just been accepted to the cafe family and he likes me or if I just make coffee fast and he doesn't want to have to find someone else anytime soon. I think I have to start lotioning my cuticles because thy are getting pretty beat up at this place. They are red and peel-y. They hurt. I also have this knot ball of pain on the lower left side of back. It will not go away and has been there since yesterday. Maybe it's a tumor. I fell like I am alienating myself from my co-workers semi on purpose. I don't talk to them. But on the other hand they don't really talk to me. I am trying to understand their Spanish. I catch a few words like "pollo" and "ensalada" but nothing much more of relevance. The CD that has been playing all day has finally stopped skipping and it is now playing a song that repeats "You're so damned beautiful" over and over. (These cafe songs tend to do that.) I think the woman is singing to me because yes, I am that self-involved. It becomes my theme until after we close and I put on my headphones to blare Kelly Clarkson.

Just to let everyone know, I am going stop posting my Coffee Boy experiences on this blog. From now on, they have their own blog. Which is titled "Confessions Of A Coffee Boy" (click the link to go there now.) sorry for any inconvenience, but this is my personal blog and the other will be professional.

Much love,

C

When I get to work today, my shirt and my hat are missing. Someone has stolen them. I go with my manager to the basement to get new ones. He gives me another 2XL, I ask for something smaller. He gives me a medium. It fits better but not tight like I like my shirts. As I am waiting for my shirt as he digs through boxes, I accidentally step on one of those rat traps. The paper ones that you put on the floor and have super sticky crap on them. It's takes me about 5 minutes to get my foot back. He cannot find a new hat for me to wear, so I go to work without one. Hope that I will never have to wear one again. 10 minutes later he comes back to me with a hat. Now this new hat was not like the one I wore before or like ones that my fellow co-workers were wearing now. I put it on and I look like a train conductor. I hate myself. I bend the rim and turn it to the side slightly. Now I look badass-ish. Sweet. I go to make a cappucino for someone and I do. I am amazed. So amazed I almost forget to give it to the woman who ordered it. I have a blister on my left pinkie. I have no idea where it came from. I suppose that it is from being burned at work and not realizing it. It looks like blood and puss is trying to break my skin from the inside. A small thin woman comes in and orders 8 different pastries, all To Go. I hope that she gets fat and gets diabetes...or is plaged with binge eating for the rest of her life because packing up these damned things to go is a pain in my ass and we don't have bags big enough to hold them. Later, I turn to my left and see Patrick Dempsey sitting talking to a woman. He apparently did not get coffee or I would have seen him closer. He stays for like 3 hours talking. He's cute but not overly so. A woman comes in and is what the show Seinfield would call a "soft-talker." Not only is she a soft-talker, she is a cunt. When I ask her to repeat her answers to the questions I have asked her like "Would you like milk in your coffee?" or "How many pieces of cake?" she not only repeats the answers but screams them at me. She says she doesn't want a bag for her food and then gets mad when I do not give her one. I want to jump over the counter and slap her repeatedly. Whatever, I made her frozen cappucino with a little flavor, milk and absolutely NO caffeine. A cute guy walks in. He has an English accent. Normally I would instantly fall in lust with him, but for some reason the way he says "croussaint" makes me think he is pretensious. He sits at the table right in front of my counter and I glare at him as muchas I can before her finally leaves. Another man walks in a orders a Honey Vanilla Latte with lots of "honeys." This man should be murdered. Not only murdered, but murdered and then fed to homeless cannibals that live in various parts of New York City. I have met them, we have an agreement. Today was not a very busy day. I get bored easily and I have noticed that passing time is easy if I clean things constantly. I am becoming OCD about it. Anytime there is a crumb or little tiny drop of milk or coffee, I immediately need to clean it up as soon as possible. This may become a problem. I find that we have very tiny bottles of wine that when poured, are exactly on glass full of wine. I wonder if 1)I can take any home, 2) If there are midget wino-s that these would be perfect for. My friend, the Spaniard leaves around 5pm. As she walks out, she is wearing a vest that makes it look like Cookie Monster is giving her a hug or mugging her for her Prada. I get really bored and after making sure everything is clean, I arrange croissants and eclairs in ways that make them look like they are having intercourse. I giggle all day at them but I don't think anyone else noticed. Around 7, I usually need more coffee to make it through the day. Today, I start adding shots of Irish Creme flavoring in my coffee, pretending it's Bailey's and thnk that if I at least think I am drunk on some level then I can cope with this place. A song by 98 Degrees plays over heard. I have never heard it before. It keeps saying things like "Your eyes," "I love you," "I love your eyes," "Your eyes of love," over and over and over again. It is possibly the most ridiculous, awful most un-musical piece of shit I have ever heard. All I hear is "eyes" and "love." I might get sick. As a final note, I have something to say. To all you bitchy fat chicks, just because you hate youself and your body because of years of overeating and lazily lying around on your ass, don't take it out on me cause I am thin and cute. I will spit in your coffee and wipe the sweat of my forhead with my palm before I pick up your muffin or danish if your treat me like shit again for no reason...or for any reason. And p.s. Fattie, if you order a cappucino with no foam, then you are ordering a latte you dumb twat.

About two or three times a year, I get re-addicted to No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. It reminds me of when I was coming into adolescence and I was agry at the world.
Spiderwebs: A fun song that many me rock out to myself.
Excuse Me Mr.: Me demanding attention.
Just A Girl: The first thing that made me realize that women were treated differently and less was expected from them. I don't like it, but I love the song because of it's irony.
Happy Now?: The lyrics in this song are amazing and wow me everytime I listen to it.
Different People: Good song, though not great.
(skips a few songs)
Sixteen: Made me want to grow up faster...made me want my freedom before I was allowed it.
Sunday Morning: Words a little slurred but it's also a fun song.
Don't Speak: One of the saddest and most moving songs I have ever heard. I could say more but I just can't.
(skips some more songs)
Tragic Kingdom (title track): Creates a wonderful world that lures me in every single damned time.

I saw a man on the subway today who looked like Saddam Hussein if Saddam waxed his eyebrows to make them look angrier but cleaner. Anyways...

I got this job in Soho working at a coffee shop. Hey, back off, it's money. I get trained, after telling them I have experience in coffee, which I don't and I get this ugly hat (which I HAVE to wear damn it) and a polo shirt that's about a 2XL...I am a small. I am the only person who's first language is English. The girl training me is Russian, another girl is Japanese, and all the rest are Hispanic. When asked if I speak Spanish I respond with "No," or "a little." Am told I will "learn quickly" The Russian training me switches back and forth between yelling and pleasant conversation. I am confused and I feel bad getting mad at her because she turns around and is very nice to me. Am mad anyway, try not to show it. Learn about all the different coffee drinks. Can't make a cappuccino for the life of me. If you ask me for a cappucino, you are getting a latte, bitch. Get yelled at for putting cold milk in coffee...I am told to steam it. I thought one of the reasons for milk was to cool the coffee down so it was drinkable. Fuck you, Russian. The Japanese girl tells stories about how her great grandmother and grandmother were geisha...wonder if she's telling the truth or making it up cause of the movie hype. Hmm...if it's true...sweet! There is a tiny woman who also works with me . She is an artist. She is a Spaniard. Whenever she says the word "Spaniard" she holds her hand in a fist over her heart. I love her. We get along well. My manager is also Hispanic. He bends the rules for me. There could be numerous reasons for this. 1) I'm new and he wants me to like my job. 2) He thinks I'm pretty. 3) He knows I am part Italian and wonder if I am "connected." etc. I see many people come in and out. I am told not to charge a few of them. I don't remember their faces. Oops. Some guy tips me $5 cause I am pretty. I smile and thank him. An older woman comes in. She asks me if I have seen Brooke Shields. I tell her I have not. She says she is her mother and that they are supposed to meet there. I think "Neat." An hour and a half passes. Brooke doesn't show. This woman is either nuts or Brooke blew her mom off. A song plays overhead. A woman with a think Spanish accent is either repeating "Marijuana" or "My Iguana" over and over in all the sultriness she can muster. I make a woman's smoothie for her 4 times. The first like normal with milk. She comes back and says her son is lactose intolerant. I say "No problem," and make it with soy. She comes back and says her son is afraid to drink it. I tell her there is no lactose in soy, she doesn't care. She asks me to make it with water. I do. She comes back again and says it tastes like "flavored water." I tell her that's basically what it is. She asks me to make it with juice. I tell her the only juice we have is in bottles and I would have to charge her for it. She refuses to pay for the juice. She complains to manager and he tell her the same thing. She finally bitches enough that my manager tell me "Just make her the damned smoothie and get her the hell away from here." I do. I'm not happy about it. I have only worked in this cafe for less than a week. I already hate people.
An Open Letter To Cafe Go-ers:
Hi, my name is Charles. As much as I wish I did, I don't speak Russian, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Portuguese, or Indian. Sorry. To the many people who try as hard as they can to confuse me with their "Half caf decaf mochalattecino with a double shot of frozen chai" thingies, fuck you. Fuck you hard in the ass....with no lube. To the woman who put $3 of pennies in my tip jar, thanks for the cash but I hate you. To the woman in the awful pink sweater who was a semi-bitch, I charged you credit card TWICE for your $23 dollar order. Take that! On a final note, no, we are not associated with Cosi, yes, I am aware that Starbucks is cheaper, if it bothers you then go there, I don't want you here. Yes, I pour the milk, no, you can't, the sugar is behind you and no, I have no idea what is in that muffin.

Thank you.

All Pics Below Are From Our Celebration Of Two Years Having The Privelage Knowing And Loving My BF, G.

(Until You Get To New Years '06)

 

 

 

 

 

All Pictures Below Are From New Years '06!
(until you get to C-Mas '05)