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Bikini Baristas – Beauty and Caffeine

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the barista’s at Starbucks wear boring uniforms.  And they’re generally surly college students or pseudo intellectuals who’s thesis is not paying the rent.  Or assholes.  And their coffee is pretty much the same as everyone else’s, they just have those cool cake pops.


If you live in an urban area, there’s a chance there’s a better alternative.  It’s called a Bikini Barista shop, and it’s probably the best invention in the last 10 years.

Before you poo poo the idea as sexist, or dirty, or stupid, or “my wife won’t let me go” or “I’m afraid my neighbor will see” – consider this: Beauty and coffee – a perfect marriage.  Try that tag line on the wife.

And while I’m sure there are the guys who go and are inappropriate or ogle, my experience has been that these girls are nice, sweet, NORMAL girls who are making coffee and brightening your day in a cute outfit.  It’s like going to the beach on a day you can’t actually make it to the beach.

We all want beauty in our lives.  In my opinion, women are beautiful.  All shapes and sizes, they are beautiful creatures.  And these girls aren’t all stacked and skinny – most are regular shapes, big busts and small, big butts and small, blemishes and all.  They aren’t airbrushed like the victoria’s secret catalogue you bring into the bathroom with you.  They’re real, and beautiful, and they make a great cup of coffee.  It’s inspirational!

Excuse me.  I’m going to go start drafting my plans for a bikini tire shop.  See ya.


Been Sick

The plague has ravaged our house for the past couple of weeks.  It seems like every time one gets better, another falls victim.  Of course the wife and I are no different – as I type this some type of mucus is alternately dripping from my nostril, then blocking it up like a dam.

But the fact that I’m up and writing is a testament to the human spirit, and my own ability to overcome the cruddies.  It may have taken two weeks, but I’m back Baby!

In the annals of the history of my life, two weeks out of a year for sickness seems fairly mild, but I can’t help but feel it is some sort of whole life setback.  Like – “if I hadn’t have gotten sick these past two weeks, who KNOWS where I’d be today!”

What’s really important is what I do with my time NOW.  Let’s get back to work!


There are three forms of kid sickness I’ve dealt with.

There’s the classic fever.  These are scary, but from a maintenance standpoint not too bad.  You have to watch to make sure it doesn’t get out of control, but for the most part it’s like a yo yo.  They are lethargic and tired, whiney and in “I feel sick” mode.  Then you give them some children’s ibuprofen, and about an hour later they’re jumping on the couch and wanting to go for a bike ride in 32 degree weather.  Fevers are not my favorite, but they are not the worst.

Second, there’s the stomach flu.  This is the worst in terms of maintenance.  Kids don’t control their throw up very well.  If you’ve got a kid sleeping at night, even with the “puke bowl” right next to them, dollars to doughnuts they’re just going to spew all over their pillow.  This is not fun.  The stomach flu is my least favorite illness.

The third is the mild cold.  This is fairly easy, but makes for cranky kids.  They aren’t knocked out enough to be manageable, but they’re uncomfortable enough to make it miserable on everyone else.  The problem with this one is they seem to happen like 4 times a year, and with more than one kid, that means you’re dealing with it half of the time, all the time.

Excuse me.  I’m going to go get a flu shot.


A lot of guys hate Valentines Day.  About half the women seem to like it, the other half shun it as a materialistic, nihlistic idiotic tradition.

What I hear most are things like – “why act romantic once a year.  You should be doing it EVERY DAY.”

Yea, except that you don’t.

“It’s a holiday made up by Hallmark to sell flowers and candy and cards.  I dont’ buy into all that.”

But you buy into Christmas – sponsored by Toys R Us and Thanksgiving, created by Butterball?

My take is a little more simple.  I like Valentines because it’s an extra chance that I’ll get laid.

My big four days of the year are Valentines Day, My Birthday, My Anniversary, and Memorial Day (I don’t get that one either, but I just go with it.  The lady wants what the lady wants).  Those are my “most likely to get laid” days.  Better than Christmas, I’ll tell you that.

And Valentines day you don’t even have to spend as much.  Christmas seems to cost me $500 bucks or more.  Valentines?  Some flowers and a card cost $50 if you pick them yourself.  You can make a card.  And coupons for free back rubs practically print themselves.

Come on guys!  It’s a small price to pay for a roll in the hay.  Think about it.

Cats are mating outside my door

Have you ever heard a cat have sex?  It’s annoying.  Just watch them sometimes – it’s a little too aggressive, you feel like you should be intervening but you know it’s none of your business…they act like they’re in pain half the time.  Okay, so it’s not much different from my love life, but I digress.

Actually, it reminds me of something else – town kids.

The other day I looked outside my door and there were three cats.  One was a female, and the other was mounting her (male?).  The third was a young cat, probably the kitten of the female, just laying there.  Sometimes the kitten would play or bat at it’s mom’s tail while she was violated.  There was a lot of screaming. It was painful and sad to watch.  Lifetime could have done a special on it.

Not two days before that, I heard a commotion outside around 9:30 or 10:00.  It was a group of middle school kids hanging out on the sidewalk.  There was a lot of screaming.  They looked terrible.  One girl kept getting attacked (while she laughed) by a boy, while another girl just languidly watched, bored.  It was the street cats all over again.

We have too many cats wandering in our neighborhood.  And there’s too many kids without homes to hang out in.  This is an epidemic I tell you!  Maybe we should be neutering more street punks? Just kidding.  Or am I?

Fearless boy

I’ve been thinking of a superhero, while watching my boys.  What if there was a mild mannered 10 year old who was struck by lightning (or some other such natural phenomenon that didn’t somehow kill him, but gave him abilities), and consequently gave him the power to HAVE NO FEAR.

It seems that those without fear tend to fare well.   It seems that if you lose your fear, you lose your ability to lose.  Because even if you lose, who cares?  You’re not  afraid of losing.

This superhero would have the ability to leap in front of cars to save people.  The act would make him superheroic.  He wouldn’t be any faster or stronger – but because he wasn’t afraid to ACT – that would be his power.

Also, he would have the power to ask a girl to his first middle school dance.  That would have served me well a few years ago.

http://www.reargoggles.com for some cartoony idiocy

Handle your business

I hate to admit it, but I watch a little reality tv once in awhile.  And one of those networks with reality TV that tends to have some boobs in it is MTV.

So, when I heard there was an MMA reality show on mtv, I thought it might be great.  Boobs and fighting.  That’s almost televised jello wrestling.

But, the shows not that great.  I’d still watch it, but that’s because I have a compulsion to finish what I started.  But for you, it’s really not worth your time.

One thing, however, struck me.  Why is it that these guys are fighting?

They’re not going pro.  This is obvious.  The only thing they might get would be some tabloid money to take pictures of their babies or mug shots.  But they’re putting everything into MMA fighting, forsaking all other things.

This one character, Wes, seems particularly going nowhere.  And on top of it, he’s got a kid with a baby mamma, and he’s talking about how he can’t spend time with his son because “I’ve got to always be training.”  And he’s annoyed that the girl thinks he should make some time for his kid.  CRAZY!

If you don’t have time for your kid, you don’t have time for a hobby.  Your son has become your hobby.  You should enjoy yourself in your life, but not at the expense of the child you brought into this world.

Handle your shit, man!

Lewie out.