WARNING: I will be mentioning boobs and men's genitalia in this post. If either of these offends you, you might want to skip the whole damned thing. :)
We have a rash here in Washington State (HEE!) of these scantily-clad-barista-employing espresso stands popping up. I don't know if this is a natural occurrence anywhere else, but there's a mess of them here.
(aside: it's yet another reason to come visit Washington. Green trees and nekkid women with your coffee! I should totally write for the tourist bureau. We wouldn't be able to make the tourists leave....oh wait. We already have that problem.)
I don't have a problem with this particular brand of titillating entertainment. (see? I made a joke! Totally not funny, I know. Forgive me.) I actually stopped at one ON PURPOSE (as research of course, I don't swing on that swingset) this morning, to see what all the hubbub was about.
(another aside - this was a big story about a year ago. As is the case with everything, I am either WAY ahead of the trend, or I am so far behind it, I'm in danger of being in front of the trend as it comes back around.)
So I stopped at a not-to-be-named espresso stand that advertises "FANTASY FRIDAYS!" and "MASQUERADE MONDAYS!" on their bright red readerboard (funny enough, the other espresso stand just before I hit the freeway has a readerboard too...theirs says right now "15 years going strong - keeping our clothes on". HA!).
I really needed coffee, people. I figured I might as well get some early morning booty...I mean BEAUTY with my wake-up juice. (See? I did it again. I am TERRIBLE.) I wasn't quite expecting what I got.
It was the weirdest experience of my life. Tops the time that I sat on Gene Simmons' lap, the time that I wandered into the middle of a crew filming a scene from CSI and ran smack into George Eads while I was drunk in Vegas....tops all of it.
I pull up to the window and ask for a vanilla latte.
A VANILLA LATTE. Keep that in mind.
Needless to say, I got a healthy serving of breastesses and attitude with my morning coffee.
The two lovely blonde girls behind the "bar" were obviously not hired for their brains, unless said brains are located in a lower, chestal-based region. They were gorgeous, I will give them that. I would stare at them all day long if I could (much better than the hairy monkey-like guy that I see every day at work).
But their customer service skills suck.
So as I mentioned, I pulled up to the window and asked for a vanilla latte. The window ledge was about at eye height for me as I'm driving the Spattern. So when the barista, in her lacy black bra and panties and baby-doll set and 3 inch-heeled, thigh-high "hooker boots"(at SIX O CLOCK IN THE MORNING when it's THIRTY EIGHT DEGREES OUTSIDE) leaned out the window, the "girls" were right in my face.
What a way to start the day.
"What can I get you honey?" the barista at the window purred at me, as she leaned real far over the counter.
"Uh...a 16 ounce vanilla latte please"...I stammered, not quite expecting the boobs-in-the-face thing.
"Oh." she said, finally looking at me, seeing I am not the proud owner of a penis, and pouting about it. She even stuck out her lower lip when she noticed me.
"It's a girl" she hissed at her red-lace-teddy-clad co-worker, who actually walked away from working at the espresso bar to come look at me, like I was some sort of freak show.
She rolls her eyes and says "we get all kinds here, don't we?" and they giggle, in that manner that hot girls do, and started flailing around and grinding each otherto some weird hip hop song they had playing on their radio.
I think it would have been less weird if there was an ACTUAL stripper pole inside their little booth, as they were dancing around, miming the existence of a pole, and just generally being not the sort of thing you see with your coffee in the morning. I don't normally expect to see what would pass as perfectly normal behaviour in a dance club or a strip club so early in the morning, and DEFINITELY never at my local Starbucks.
So they finish making my drink, ignoring me the ENTIRE TIME, and when she handed it to me, she said "No charge..." (which was nice...)
"...we usually don't get many lesbians here." and she winked and blew me a kiss, and took both of her hands, cupped her boobs and jiggled them at me.
And to top it all off, as I pull back onto the highway, I take a sip of my lovely gratis latte, and discover the damned thing is a mocha.
So I'm thinking about going back for Fantasy Friday and ordering a mocha to see if I get my vanilla latte.
BTW...Someone came to this blog by googling "Ban Muzak Lords 2007". I worry about people sometimes.