I had to drink a caramel macchiato this morning . . . and now I can't eat anything for the rest of the day, since I just had 45 billion empty caramel-y calories (and milk, yuck). Unfortunately, this state just makes me want to go to coney island . . .
The reason for the sudden caramel macchiato? Something that I would never order. Well, the cute boy with the tattoo on his neck was in drive-thru this morning and I just couldn't bring myself to say "Umm, this isn't my coffee." The giant band-aid covering his neck tattoo aside (a new addition, I was wondering when the management at Starbucks would get around to it), he is really attractive in an alt boy in kind of way. And flirty, and nice . . . and terrible at working the drive-thru. So it wasn't all that unexpected when he handed me a cup that was a different size from what I had ordered (another very predictable thing about me: grande soy latte).
To his credit, he did charge me for the caramel macchiato, so it's not like I stole someone's drink. It just wasn't what I ordered and after all the flirting ("So, what's your name again?") well, it just didn't seem right to kill the moment. And even the giant band-aid is kinda cute.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment