Today's cup of Joe

This morning I stood in line in front of two men (hard to tell how old 'cause their lives had really taken their toll), one white, the other black, discussing their case workers. In front of me was a woman that I swear was married to the mob.

You won't hear or see that in Starbucks, which is another reason I get my coffee at Dunkin' Donuts instead of Seattle's finest. And I do prefer DD coffee. It's fresh and taste like regular old coffee.

Besides, I hate anything, people, business, whatever, who put on airs.

A cup of Joe

I like coffee. I like coffee with just a little bit of milk. Not cream. Not half-and-half. And not skim milk, either. Milk, the way it comes out of a cow.

I don’t like double decaffeinated latte’s with jimmies, either. I feel stupid drinking them, so you’ll rarely find me in a Starbucks unless a certain buddy of mine pulls me in so the snob can get his ground roast from Kenya or Chile or wherever the heck it is it comes from. I don’t like Starbucks (and a lot of this trendy c**p that seems to come out of Seattle and the Pacific Northwest in general) because frankly I don’t like being made to feel like I’m something on the bottom of somebody’s Cole Haan’s. Nor do I like being forced to order in a foreign language just to appear continental, particularly when they don’t use the foreign language correctly to begin with. If I’m ordering a grande, I want an effing grande, and not a piccolo. Compris?

If I want some fancy coffee drink, and sometimes I do, I’ll go to Dunkin’ Donuts, a nice blue-collar establishment that doesn’t ask you where you went to school.

If I had my druthers, though, I’d prefer some greasy spoon where they serve the coffee in a heavy railroad mug and a waitress named Alice or Gladys or Madge calls me Hon and asks me if I want my coffee "heated up” and knows I like my eggs over-easy with wheat toast.