Everytime im making a latte, its like im running a little race against myself.....no...wait...
I decided that i was going to cheat on my boyfriend while we were fucking last night...there. Thats the shit I meant to say.
I cannot be the first woman to have ever thought this. So I give myself credit for being straight up. I mean, he does not know this. He's excited about this blog. He's not going to be so excited once he actually reads it.
I am a Loganite. Through and through. Biker, barista skills, useless pretensions and all. And I love it. My only problem is that im black. And everywhere I go (including my very own living room) I am the only black motherfucker around. Unless you count the rabbit....Chuck counts the rabbit.
The thing about my being a barista is, every time I get hired somewhere, I know its because (as ive literally been told) I am "just black enough". Just black enough to make my employer look less-racist, just black enough to shuck and jive AND shut the fuck up, just black enough to get your average customers "Bon Qui Qui" reference...and not impale him through the eyes with my four inch acrylics. (I AM from the southside motherfuckers). These hoes also do not expect me to know plum shit about coffee. A hard head nod and a "so you used to work at starbucks right?" will do me just fine. I can make latte art and a cappuccino that could bring tears to an FOB Italian mans eye. No bitch. I am, in fact, a real boy.
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