Coffee Broken
This morning, I stopped by Starbucks and ordered a tall, skim, sugar-free syrup Cinnamon Dolce latte. When I received my coffee goody, I was sad to realize that I had neglected to omit whipped cream from the equation. So my 90 calorie drink turned into a 170 calorie drink which I refused to imbibe. It is currently sitting on my desk, cold and untouched, while I wait for the Starbucks crowd to die down in order to go and get another one. Given that I bought it with a gift card, I’m not feeling too bad about wasting the money, but I am pissed—whipped cream for hot chocolate, yes. For a latte? Not so much, I think. Alack, alack. I do feel, however, that I should write down my order on my hand before venturing forth once more. I might forget to ask for skim milk or for sugar-free syrup. Can’t a woman have a drink under 100 calories without engaging in verbal acrobatics?
There should be a code for this particular drink given the length of the name at its fullest, fattiest state. How about an ultra-skinny Cinnamon Dolce latte, Starbucks?
That’s a sad story.
:cry: I know!
It gets worse—I never went to get another one. Now it’s time for lunch, and there’s absolutely no need for coffee, just Diet Mountain Dew.
Sigh. Off to the cafeteria to hopefully avoid the Spanish-speaking old dude who wants me to translate his love for someone way too young for him.
You could have a latte later in the day, right? Right?
Ugh, I hate it when people try to get with someone too young for them. Find someone born in your own century, Gramps.
Well, they were born in the same century, but a couple of decades apart. He’s always trying to get me to be the mediator for their coffee together. I told him that I don’t have time, but he seems to think I’ll make time. Nope.
I coulda, but didna. In terms of the latte, I mean. I’ll have one tomorrow morning—I had some dark chocolate during lunch.