I bill myself as a techno-phobe but that’s a lie.
Now, let’s be clear. I don’t crave technology like some. I don’t need the latest and greatest. I like to wait to buy something until the bugs have been worked out, which is why I will never camp out at an Apple Store. Ever.
(I’d make a Taylor Swift allusion, but let’s face it. That whore will back it up when the dick calls. We all know it and singing about how you won’t isn’t convincing.)
Anyway. I’m not crazed, but I do like my technology. Especially my iPhone. My hades, the apps. Did you know there’s one for Starbucks? You can load $ on it and buy your lattes. Plus, you earn reward points! I LOVE reward points even more than Taylor Swift likes older men who are going to work her over!
(Why the hate on Tay-Tay today? Because she bugs the shit outta me.)
So rather than patronize the small independent coffee shop that is a) closer to my house and b) makes a latte that would give any green-apron-wearing barista a caffeinated orgasm, I drive myself out to the soulless corporate coffee conglomerate and buy coffee with my gadget.
I am a jerk. A jerk who decries the death of small business in run-on sentences, then contributes to their demise with her fucking iPhone. Damn it.
This little place is great. They contribute to our schools. They are sweet. Their skinny vanilla latte is a gift from the Columbian heavens. I need to put the gadget down and take my butt over to the local mom & pop place. Otherwise, the next time I bemoan the encroachment of Wal-Mart and its big box kin, I will burst into hypocritical flames.
Fat is really, really flammable, you guys.