Go ahead, buy a cup. Spend seven dollars on a coffee that is served to you by hipster perverts that wear horned rimmed glasses with no lenses. Better get a scone too, that’ll put the cost up to an even ten, it’ll also offset the lack of calories from that decaf, no-fat, specialty coffee you bought. Take a seat on the cum stained couches, to your left is a pseudo-intellectual, she went to Tufts and studied anthropology. You’d engage her in a conversation but she seems too focused on her Vanity Fair… she’s just looking at the pictures, all the cocaine from college riddled her brain into a fine mush. To your right is that goofy looking business man with thinning hair, he clings on to the vestiges of his youth by getting what the kids get, problem is that his masturbatory image reeks of failure. He’d be watching the high school girls walk to school if Shannon Smith didn’t have a restraining order on him. He clutches what appears to be a WIRED magazine, he stares at it with a certain degree of satisfaction, this is all a charade, he is daytime manager at Burger King, and the smell of free trade coffee and the perfume of stay at home moms gives him a boner. The cum on the couches, it’s his.

For Just Ten Dollars You Can Be As Cool As Britney Spears…

I’m sure Starbucks makes good coffee, good enough however to sacrifice your morning pay for some elitist posturing? Because really that’s what you are paying for, the ability to parade around in your vintage ensemble delightfully displaying to the world you are a douche. And not just a normal ‘I hate bunnies and rainbows douche,’ but a ‘I hate bunnies and rainbows because I’m better than them douche.’ Listen, I know I don’t have the funds to drop seven bucks on some status cardboard, quite frankly the jug I found in the river will suffice for me.