You see, I haven’t always been a coffee advocate. After hearing about the Pumpkin Spice Latte for literally the past decade, I decided to give it a try this year. And then I became obsessed, and then it was all I talked about, and then I got my mom, my aunt, and my 9 year old sister obsessed too and we would have PSL parties on the weekend mornings and run around for the next 6 hours like crackheads in a crackhouse. And then when we came down from our high we would tell each other that we looked like crackwhores. Because we did. Sunken, tired eyes, aimlessly wandering around trying to remember what we needed to do before we drank the PSL. Yes I know, I am a horrible horrible person, I got a 9 year old addicted to espresso. But what the fuck ever, Italians let their kids drink espresso and they turn out all right.
Then I found this food challenge I wanted to try. It’s 30 days long and while you can have 1 cup of black coffee a day, we all know that the PSL is no where close to being black coffee. So I had to quit. Lucky suggested that I just straight up eat espresso beans like a fiend, but I think for the sake of everyone else I’ll just stop with the coffee all together.
So that brings us to the breakup. You see, Fridays were my crack day. I would wake up with a shit eating grin on my face every Friday, first and foremost because it was Friday, but also because I got the crack on Fridays. My PSL and my cinnamon roll.
Each Friday I would get to work throw my shit down and skip off to Starbucks without a care in the world. After a few weeks my co-workers started to notice that after returning from my coffee run, I would ping from the walls for the next 4-6 hours and get absolutely no office related work done. I became a different person, I was a sociable spaz and told people (everyone, separately) in the office my opinions on things like cloth diapers and flavored beer. No one cared, but they loved it. After about a month of said behavior, when I would come to work on Fridays some would chant, “Crack day! Crack day! Crack day!” The pressure became too much, so when I decided to do the 30 day challenge I had to break it to everyone that the coming Friday would be my final crack day. They cried, but they’ll get over it. Eventually.
When I went to Starbucks for my Final Crack Day, I broke the news to Jake the Barista (Baristo? What the hell do you call boy Baristas?) that he would not see me for at least the next month, possibly forever if I could withstand it, and that I really appreciated him always warming my cinnamon roll to the perfect temperature, hot enough to melt the frosting but not so hot that it burnt my mouth. Jake was sad to see me go, he even drew little sad faces on my cup. But at last, we parted ways.
And that is how I dumped the PSL and cinnamon roll. The best relationship I’ve ever had.