The Mulatto Latte

I'm covered in mocha. It's gross and it's sticky. I'm also covered in: one espresso shot, dumped down my sleeve, chai tea concentrate, whipped cream, strawberry sauce and coffee grounds. I also managed to drop part of a cookie down my bra.

I am an Amber Latte.

Normally it's more enjoyable when I'm coated in this much chocolate sauce and whipped cream. (Sorry mom). I don't know what else to do, though, for now, besides work in Starbucks, and really, it's not that bad. I have one customer, Rodger, who is, seriously, a professional writer. He writes plays. For a living. That equals way too much time to spend hanging out in Starbucks (we don't mind, he's fantastic to have around). He was encouraging me to go back to school, and talking about his own life and how he ended up where he is now. His story sounds a lot like mine, which is cool, because it means that even if I feel like a bit of a fuck up now (and I do; but only a tiny bit) my life isn't over. And that's something you KNOW, but sometimes, making your millionth latte, covered as I am now in various syrups and condiments or listening to some lady shriek about how she wanted that decaf, you forget that life is bigger than your current situation. Rodger helped me put that in perspective. Thanks, Rodge!