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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.

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The Snooze Button Antichrist

Everyone is worried about the end of the world.  If I hear one more time that someone thinks the president or a presidential candidate or a possible secretary of treasury might be the antichrist, I’m going to go all 666 on someone.

The antichrist is supposed to come out of nowhere.  Someone everyone least expects.  It’s not going to be a high level politician.  Those guys are too douchey to be the antichrist anyway.  The real antichrist is right in our bedrooms as we speak.

No, I’m not talking about your wife (well, maybe yours Larry), I’m talking about a cancer in our rooms that is spreading globally.  In fact, when it reaches the remote villages of Africa, I believe the human race is doomed.  Yes, I’m talking about the snooze button.

Think about it – what all could mankind have accomplished if the snooze button didn’t exist?  We’d probably on Mars right now if those scientists didn’t take that extra half an hour each morning, trying to get up but taking “just 10 more minutes” of snooze time.  And we all know it’s a worthless amount of sleep – it does nothing for our bodies.  It just delays the inevitable.  And steals our eternal souls.

But I’m powerless against it. At 4 in the morning, when I’m supposed to get up to exercise, I know it’s there.  Waiting for me like a hit of crack – just ten more minutes.

Screw you, snooze button.  You may herald the end of the world for us all.  But I don’t have to like it.  Now excuse me, I’m going to get just a few minutes more sleep.

Drunk advice is the best advice (via Bottlecaps & Broken Bits)

I like this one from Bottlecaps and Broken Bits. Sums up a vagabonding lifestyle quickly, succinctly, and awesomely (is that a word?)

Drunk advice is the best advice I once met a drunken guru named David on a rooftop bar in Ho Chi Minh City. He was turning 30, American, and had been traveling since he was 23. This was the last year of his travels, as he had decided long ago that when he reached 30, he would go home, get a job and settle down. We were drinking Beer Saigon — it was happy hour. It's always happy hour somewhere in Southeast Asia. "What is the most life-changing advice you could offer me?" I aske … Read More

via Bottlecaps & Broken Bits