I don't need any shit at 5:30 in the morning. That's what time it was when I innocently tried to
enter the Starbucks closest to my place of employment. Oh, and no indie-horseshit anti-Starbucks manifestos, please. If you're that concerned, take some of that trust fund money and buy a hobby. I live and work in the suburbs so there aren't a lot of options, and if I drink gas station coffee I'll blow asswater ten minutes later.
Anyway, standing directly in my path were two unwashed early twentyish guys wearing backpacks and doing for dreadlocks what the Columbine massacre did for the trench coat. Norm MacDonald and Cartman would refer to them as "damn dirty hippies." They were eating pizza from a Papa Johns box, using the top of a garbage can as a makeshift table.
"Hey, man, you wouldn't have any change, would you?" one of them asked.
You probably think I destroyed those jackals with a withering glance and/or devistating comment, but I dug in my right pocket and gave them some change. I don't need any shit at 5:30 in the morning, remember?
A few minutes later, as I emerged with the life-sustaining elixir that is the morning's first cup of coffee, the same guy who asked for change said, "The dumpster's full of perfectly good pizza, man. They throw it out before they close."
"I'm good," I managed, suppressing a dry heave.
"Just thought you'd like to know, in case you're ever like me, down on your luck," was the last thing I heard before I got in my car.
Down on his luck? That fucker was damn lucky I have the no shit at 5:30 policy. How dare he self-righteously imply he's down on his luck? He just got a donation from someone who works for a living to support his lifestyle choice. Make no mistake, these were two kids from upper-middle class backgrounds who one day decided to never hold down a job. Ninety-five percent of hippies come from priviledge. Blue collar and poor people don't have time for such nonsense.
I knew what a couple of parasites these guys were but I still gave them change. But that wasn't enough for that one jerk-off. He wanted my money and my sympathy. He only got one and next time he'll get neither.
I don't care what other people do with their lives. You can listen to String Cheese Incident and eat out of dumpsters till the day you die. Just please don't pretend you're doing me a favor by pointing out the neighborhood hotspot for maggot-infested pizza. Don't allign yourself with street people who won't be welcomed home with open arms the day they decide to come home to mommy and daddy. And most of all, don't guilt-trip me until I've finished my coffee.
enter the Starbucks closest to my place of employment. Oh, and no indie-horseshit anti-Starbucks manifestos, please. If you're that concerned, take some of that trust fund money and buy a hobby. I live and work in the suburbs so there aren't a lot of options, and if I drink gas station coffee I'll blow asswater ten minutes later.
Anyway, standing directly in my path were two unwashed early twentyish guys wearing backpacks and doing for dreadlocks what the Columbine massacre did for the trench coat. Norm MacDonald and Cartman would refer to them as "damn dirty hippies." They were eating pizza from a Papa Johns box, using the top of a garbage can as a makeshift table.
"Hey, man, you wouldn't have any change, would you?" one of them asked.
You probably think I destroyed those jackals with a withering glance and/or devistating comment, but I dug in my right pocket and gave them some change. I don't need any shit at 5:30 in the morning, remember?
A few minutes later, as I emerged with the life-sustaining elixir that is the morning's first cup of coffee, the same guy who asked for change said, "The dumpster's full of perfectly good pizza, man. They throw it out before they close."
"I'm good," I managed, suppressing a dry heave.
"Just thought you'd like to know, in case you're ever like me, down on your luck," was the last thing I heard before I got in my car.
Down on his luck? That fucker was damn lucky I have the no shit at 5:30 policy. How dare he self-righteously imply he's down on his luck? He just got a donation from someone who works for a living to support his lifestyle choice. Make no mistake, these were two kids from upper-middle class backgrounds who one day decided to never hold down a job. Ninety-five percent of hippies come from priviledge. Blue collar and poor people don't have time for such nonsense.
I knew what a couple of parasites these guys were but I still gave them change. But that wasn't enough for that one jerk-off. He wanted my money and my sympathy. He only got one and next time he'll get neither.
I don't care what other people do with their lives. You can listen to String Cheese Incident and eat out of dumpsters till the day you die. Just please don't pretend you're doing me a favor by pointing out the neighborhood hotspot for maggot-infested pizza. Don't allign yourself with street people who won't be welcomed home with open arms the day they decide to come home to mommy and daddy. And most of all, don't guilt-trip me until I've finished my coffee.
7 Comments:
I don't know what's up with the second line. It wouldn't even let me edit it.
I'm in love with you. Nice entry!
You are my new favourite person. I've heard about you, you know. I just never had the pleasure of witnessing the enlightenment.
If NonV is in love with you, then I am in love with you too. My reason is quite simple though. You frequent Starbucks and that's where my wife works. Thanks for your patronage.
Nice work!
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Thanks for taking the time to point out my typo.
My psychic abilities told me someone would take the pro hippie stance. That's cool. I welcome dissenting opinions.
Note: The comment that was deleted was my own. I didn't like the way it could have been interpreted, so I got rid of it.
Hey, Egan and Biki! Wow, I love how this incestuous circle is getting bigger and bigger.
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