Yesterday...I cried over whipped cream.
Let me be clear: WHEN I ORDER A CAFE MOCHA, PUT THE F@CKING WHIPPED CREAM ON TOP OR I WILL CUT YOU.
Not really, but the Latina in me wants to rrrreeeaaallll bad. At $1.85/cup, I only want what I'm paying for. I feel a certain sting over the whipped cream debate because I use to work at this particular store and know how the eff it's suppose to be made. WITH WHIPPED CREAM.
It's funny how the smallest thing can mean everything. Especially when it happens at the exact wrong moment. It didn't help I was a walking zombie and literally blacked out in Kohl's. I wandered around the aisles for (what felt like) DAYS. By the time I'd gotten to the oh-so-spiritual hot chocolate+coffee, I wanted all that cream, in my mouth (that was not innuendo...maybe it was...hell if I know anymore).
I've broken the mocha down into what it means, for writers:
Oh, and who's been romancing the fates on my behalf?
Until tomorrow friends, which coffee stage are you currently drinking? And if you're not drinking coffee, are you enjoying your liquor with or without the whipped cream? Are you hungover (or wired) from the process?
CANDYLAND+WHIPPED CREAM. OUT.
P.S. Check the I Heart Joy Like BR80: PART TWO Contest page DAILY for new additions including concert tix and coming soon--goods from the inspirer himself, BR80...