Wednesday, June 2, 2010


I have begun to notice an odd trend in our customers which baffles me to no end. For some reason the most interestingly adorned and freakishly decorated individuals always and without fail order the most boring drinks. You would think that because their outward appearance is so deliberately chosen to shock, offend, or possibly sicken others, that they would want to continue this trend in their food choices.
You know, like ordering a twenty shot espresso and asking us to give our finger a little nick to add some of our own blood. But no, no membranes, or mucus, or even additional shots. For the most part they’ll order drip coffee or an Americana. No bells, no whistles, and no frou-frou additions. Which I guess in today’s world of sugary-fatty-instant-Kentucky-fried-gratification, having straight coffee, is in fact quite bohemian.
This morning, I decided to ask one of our regular freaks why this was. I mean, there had to be a reason. The first decorated individual who always shows up in the morning, is named Jane and she is a true piece of work. A masterpiece in her own right. Her head is shaven (ala Shinade O’Conor) and adorning her melenous dome is a multitude of colorful tattoos which range from skulls and cross-bones, to Muppet Babies. Her ears have more metal then the frame of my car, and in her left earlobe there seems to be a silver steak driven all the way through. Her cloths always contain at the very least one clashing pattern or color, which if you stare directly at it, will render you temporarily stupid. And, as a matter of principle, I think she always has at least one curse word printed on her at all times. This morning her shirt was another wonder of verbal brilliance, in it’s simplicity sporting the
word “cunt”, and was paired with a neon kilt, completed by leg warmers and calf-length combat boots.
Every piece of fabric was torn and/or filthy with bobby pins gouged into the free spaces. Her makeup seemed to be a cross between Kiss and Marilyn Manson. In fact, I think she could have given those guys tips.
She must have a steady source of income though (tattoo artist, side show attraction, lion tamer?...), because she came in every day and she would tip us nicely. Her answer to my query over the simplicity of her
drink, and she answered,
“Gee, I don’t know. I just never really liked any of that other weird crap people put in their drinks...just seems so unnatural to put that in coffee.” This coming from the woman who houses enough metal to be legally declared a pubic construction site. She continued, “besides man, I never liked doing what every other yuppy asshole is doing, I’d rather be an individual then let someone tell me how to be.”
She grinned at me, and I noticed she had strategically blacked out four of her bottom teeth with a magic marker, again displaying her disdain for the mainstream (though dental miscomformity was a new form of rebellion to me).
However, I did admire how Jane liked to be so different from what society dictates as “normal”. But just as I was beginning to take on a substantial form of respect for her individuality, Jane bent over to tie her laces as she was leaving, and I noticed a label protruding from her grotesquely colored skirt that read “Calvin Klein”...I don’t think I need to point out the irony.

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