Starbucks thread - thank you boom

Finally found that Impanena Bourbon you were talking about a while ago. Wow. Thank you for the suggestion.

My coffee world has expanded. Stop the presses.

What are some other coffee surprises out there?

 

Hell, I'm headed downstairs. There's six pounds left!

 

Seriously.

My brother in law asks, "What the hell is wrong with good old Maxwell House?" He says this while sipping Starbucks.

 

LOVE it. Hard to find down here. Thanks much. Love the mugs, too.

 

I decided it was my one ridiculous expense that I could really cut back on. I think the Starbucks where I live might be particularly expensive, too. I live and work within a mile radius. So my world is very contained. I buy good coffee beans--often from Starbucks. I like their Columbian blend a lot. But I make my own coffee first thing when I wake up in the morning. I drink about 3/4 of a pot of the stuff. It is my one vice. I am so bad in the mornings that it takes me an hour of watching Sportscenter and trying to get my eyes to stay open before I can get my ass out of the apartment anyhow. Then I go exercise and make my way to the office.

My best Starbucks story (and the greatest ego boost I have ever gotten)--and a person or two who are on the board and knew me in my Chicago days will remember this. I used to live in a gay neighborhood in Chicago. There was a Starbucks on the corner of my street. This was more than 10 years ago. I only point out that it was a gay neighborhood, because for some reason most of the people working in the Starbucks were gay men--at least by appearances they were. I don't know if it was coincidence or by design. There were a couple of women who worked there. I never really talked to anyone who worked there all that much, maybe a little chit chat, but I used to go in there every morning to buy my coffee, and at a certain point they just stopped charging me. It didn't matter who was working the register. It was "no charge." I never asked any questions. Just said thank you.

This went on for months and months, and then finally one day, one of the guys working there starts talking to me. One of the women who worked there liked me, but was afraid to talk to me, and all the guys who worked there had made me into their project without me knowing it. It was actually quite stalkerish. They were asking around the neighborhood to try to figure out who I was, what my name was, where exactly I lived, what I did. They even had a dossier they had compiled, which they eventually showed me. It was hysterical, because about 3/4 of the info they had was wrong. I went out on one date with the woman who worked there--I felt like I owed it to her for what had been more than half a year of free coffee, but I really wasn't into her and I was sort of dating someone else at the time anyhow.