Back in spring, I gave my plea to Starbucks to bring back seasonal drinks.
I meant then. And that was only because it was still freezing ass cold outside. I was at a point where I was downing ventis less out of a need to stay awake and more to stay warm and entertain my taste buds since playing outside was a non-option. Even so, they defied my agonal cries to appease these not-yet-vegan cravings I was still suffering and which only creamy peppermint chocolate coffee could satisfy. And now that it’s getting chillier in the early morning time and at the end of these gradually shortening days, they suddenly see fit to prematurely ejaculate pumpkin spice lattes all over their stores before it’s even fkkn September.
I don’t like this for two reasons.
One is the inconsistency. I mean, they didn’t see fit to carry on with selling my lard inducing lattes back when I needed them in my life and my ass was gathering a growing layer of frost and moss due to a delayed onset of spring-like temperature. So you can’t just make the fact that temps are dropping this month be the green light for your java pushing like some Autumnal shotgun. Not when you went and moved the foamy finish line ribbon a mile up the line – way before spring’s first sun rays, and left me with my bib (the racing kind) in my hands. It’s not equal. I don’t like it.
This is worse than when they stretched school out into summer because we had a few snow days wasted on that powdery bullcrap you can’t even build a snow barbie doll with, but you force your friends to die trying with you anyway.
Even though I had more reason to complain then because I was being cut short of an actual summer vacation, I suppose my lack of any real drive-the-eff-as-far-away-as-you-can-so-you-can-dread-coming-home-in-one-week kinda vacations as an adult makes it an equally miserable psychological assault. Starbucks doesn’t control the weather. But with its too-soon reminder drinks, it does interrupt my fantasy world where summer lasts forever and we burn all our sweaters with the heat of the round-the-clock sun rays and the magnifying glasses we brought with us in case we ever wanted to see what our “problems” ever were back in that miserable blue-filtered world we called reality.
And that, in effect, also interrupts the fantasy where I don’t turn 2xrke#na&$ next month. (Yes, where I come from, our ages are in captcha. We also mate be depositing semen into sweaty sneakers and leaving it outside overnight for European Santa Clause to come fertilize.) So, Starbucks, I expect an apology cake from you and the retraction of these cool weather lattes, effective immediately.
“I said apology cake, asshole. Not “birthday” cake – especially when I’m turning captcha – not this numerical nonsense that doesn’t even start with a ‘2’. Get out of my rapidly fading geriatric sight…”
You see? This is what happens when I make a caffeine conglomerate my god.
I blame it for the transient reality about everything on earth.
And that reality is that… calendars are the ones to blame!
They’re the cancer of my happiness.
F’real, if we’re using the elements to decide seasonal sells, how about my 3 point plan:
1. From now on, we hold off at least till summer bugs depart.
2. We’ll make a September special with a spesh name.
3. We can even call it “The Sayonara Mosquito Mocha”.