Damn you! You made me love you. I’ve been consciously resisting you since the late ’90s, when your chains starting popping up everywhere, putting my favorite high school coffee shop — Seattle Espresso — out of business. At first, I hated you on principle. I was young and idealistic and my favorite movie was “Reality Bites.” Then I got older and just hated you because your coffee sucks. Sorry, Jessica. Don’t get mad. I was a barista on and off in my late teens and early twenties. I know what a shot of fresh-ground, well-pressed espresso should taste like. I’m just gonna say it, Starbucks: your espresso tastes like burnt poop. (Full disclosure: I admit to, in times of extreme caffeine deprivation or desperation, drinking Starbucks. But this is only in extreme cases or when my dad takes me there because he loves your coffee.)
My half-hearted Starbucks boycott ended this weekend when I was starving and popped into one of your stores for a snack. I was thinking I would get a Kind bar to hold me over until I found something acceptable to eat and there they were staring up at me, looking all sexy, begging to be tasted. Your salad bowls. Hearty veggie and brown rice, zesty chicken and black bean and chicken and greens caesar salad bowl. Keep reading »
There’s a “knife-wielding” food thief on the loose in an Australian office. The most recently casualty was a tub of tzatziki meant to adorn one unlucky employee’s Turkish lunch. The victim found the most witty and pass-aggro way to deal with the loss by writing an obituary for the deceased item and posting it on the fridge. “Our office has been quite settled for the past few years without any issues, but recently fridge items have started to go missing. I’ve lost my own odd pieces of lunch to our unknown thief, so I sympathize completely,” reported an anonymous employee. Consider the food thief sufficiently shamed and the glorious dip properly mourned. [Laughing Squid]
1. Feeding Frenzy, Part 1:
You’ve gotten a reservation at your city’s hottest, hardest to get into restaurant with a young, hipster chef who braises short ribs in Coca Cola and serves thrice cooked bacon over rice patties that look like scallops. The menu is so revered and so complex that you literally make a spreadsheet of what you plan to order. You consult others who have eaten there to find out what’s recommended. The day of the dinner, you send your fellow diners an email filled with GIFs which express your excitement about eating at this nearly-impossible-to-get-into restaurant where the folklore says that there is a Skid Row poster from the ’80s hanging in the lobby and a bathroom that pays tribute to “Twin Peaks,” which is your favorite show of all time. You will visit that bathroom later and wish that you had visited it before dinner, so you could have focused more on the decor and less on the urgency with which you needed to use the toilet.
When you finally sit down it’s nearly 10 p.m., but you just feel lucky to be sitting. Next to you, a party of six young men are inebriated and sweating profusely. They seem too good looking to have snot running down their faces in the manner they do. You ask them how it was. The guy closest to you blows his nose before answering. You notice there are tears coming out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m in a state of profound bliss,” he tells you, wiping another round of sweat off his face. “You must order the chicken wings, but prepare to sweat.”
You’re ready for the challenge. You can handle this. You revise your spreadsheet slightly to include the chicken wings. You consider crossing off the fried soft-shell crab with buttermilk ranch dressing dipping sauce, but you (wisely or unwisely?) decide you have room for both. Your table orders and you just wait for the ride to begin. Keep reading »
It’s hard to deny that Facebook is one of the most addictive guilty pleasures on the Internet. As much as we hate the idiots that clutter our feeds with stupid comments, it does give us something to laugh at.
Check out these five Facebook fails that are among the stupidest in recent memory (our memory being about two days old). Read more at TruTV…
The pictures don’t lie. This is hard hitting journalism, people. Ever wonder how celebrities look flawless 24/7? The answer — get yourself a professional butt washer. Do you think this sort of behavior is excessive? Or fair, considering how often famous peeps are photographed? Read more at College Candy…
I don’t know what it is, but bachelorette parties have a knack for bringing out the very worst in women. Inevitably, we all have different viewpoints on the ritual (some of us are pumped to wear penis hats and some of us aren’t), we have various amounts we can and will spend to celebrate our bride friend (anywhere from $50 to $5,000, depending on our disposable income) and we have varying degrees of comfortability with group activities (some of us OMG LUV IT! and some would rather drink Drano).
If you’ve ever been on a bachelorette party planning email chain, then you probably had one of three reactions. You were either: 1) the person planning the bachelorette party and therefore super enthusiastic about it and prone to using tons of caps, emails and text speak, 2) the hater who had to remind everyone that you don’t have an extra $5K lying around to do a weekend jaunt to Paris, or 3) the silent bystander left wishing she was never on the email chain in the first place. To make matters worse, we tend to be loathe to say these things directly because of our concern about being nice, which makes the endless stream of emails a virtual pass-aggro, power jockeying shit show. Michelle Markowitz and Caroline Moss perfectly capture the essence of how a typical bachelorette party planning email chain goes down. Even though they’re not real, they could be. It’s almost like they’ve been through the process before. I’m sure they have. After the jump, just one of the imagined responses to “Ali”‘s email above. [The Toast] Keep reading »