a dose of some friday spice.

Have I mentioned how much I love waking up (okay, reluctantly dragging my sleepy ass outta bed when I had finally became conscious enough to see it was already 7:51am) only to rush my getting-all-dolled-up-for-work-and-the-day routine and race into work (which included going 15mph, at least, over the speed limit on the main roads, for the record), only to get a call from my boss two minutes before I'm supposed to open up shop and welcome in business. It went a little something like this:

"Hey, uh.. Court? I am SO sorry, but..."

*in my best attempted it's-10-o'clock-on-a-friday-morning-but-I'm-just-gonna-pretend-as-though-I-got-out-of-bed-by-choice act* "Goooood mornin' buttercup, what's up. You wouldn't be calling me before noon if something wasn't up."

"...you got me. I'm assuming you're already starting to open up but do you think... would you mind coming back at three or four and working all night?"

*long pause* "Jax..." [except it was in my sarcastic, over-exaggerated tone of voice and not my bitchy employee one]

"I know, I know, just work with me, [insert boss's husband's name here] just got called in and I have no one to watch the kids and..."

"Oh, get your butt in here. Oh, and you owe me one."

And that's how my morning got started. Not to mention a mere three minutes later I looked down to see my phone vibrating and picked it up only to be welcomed with a: "You like white chocolate lattes, right?" My disorganized and involuntary boss at it again, and this time determined to redeem herself at least. Psh, working over employees with their favorite morning snack, is that even legal? An utter waste of 7 miles of gas and one hot coffee fix later, and I was one tired/moody/delighted girl. At least I got a nice and hot caffeinated apology out of it, right? (I also failed to mention that she conveniently managed to time her call when I was already 95% of the way through opening up the shop. Extra brownie points for me for not screaming in frusteration and going with the flow instead?)

On a separate note, TGIF, and I cannot say that any louder/type that any more noticeable. Ah, there's just something about that distinct feeling of waking up and having the first thought pop in your mind be that it's the last day of the week I have to use an alarm. On the brightside, and I should buying my boss's ass coffee for this one since she's to blame, the clock has yet to strike noon and I'm up and ready to take on the day - dressed, fed, sitting down to blog my morning away with my coffee fix in hand, and even almost awake. It's going to be a good day, ladies, so my instinct says at least. My schedule calls for me to go in again by 3, and if business is as slow as it is half the time, that just means I'll have another five hours to blog my life away. And find a minute to sweep in there, of course.

What about you guys, stuck with the getting-weekend-plans-in-order-while-procrastinating-at-work syndrome yet? Any exciting details or stories in your day so far? I'm in the best and yet most chill/relaxed mood ever, and happy hour hasn't even hit so I'm convinced, and crossing my fingers, that today's just going to be one of those allday good-mooders, and for your sake, hopefully it's contagious. Chances are ya'll will hearing from me continuously throughout the day seeing as work is currently SLOW and wonderful and not too demanding these days, but if not, make it a fantastic weekend and be ready to get your lovely selves back here come Monday with some worthwhile and entertaining stories/awkward moments/juicy girltalk we can all soak up, and knowing me, relate to.

the W-word.

Reasons Why I Love Wednesday Mornings Even More So:

#1. Because today I have a 99% higher chance of adopting the title as a certified barista than yesterday. Yes, you heard me right, the interview went smoothly and FANTASTIC, and *fingers still crossed* as, naturally, I don’t know the verdict yet, but let’s just say damn, I’m good. I mean, let’s get real here, not everyone can turn their stress and anxiety into positive energy and have it benefit themselves in the long run. Oh, and that strong fix of coffee earlier in the AM today didn’t hurt too much either. I’m not going to lie though, I wouldn’t mind coming home with coffee stains on my dark wash People Liberations and cute white tops every once in a while. That or proudly jotting down “Barista” on myspace surveys when asked about my job.

#2. Because Wednesdays happen to always be the days where my conscious favors my extreme (and probably unhealthy) coffee addiction over my extreme-but-apparently-more-mild-than-love-for-coffee desire for weight loss (okay, not so much weight loss as my desperate longing for my abs to finally peek through!) and I give in and treat myself to stopping at the local espresso stand. And not just any local espresso stand, but my favorite one of the three hundred million in the same five-mile perimeter of my house. One “16oz. iced white chocolate Americano with nonfat milk instead of water, double shot please” and one hell of a mood lifter and energy boost that goes hand in hand coming right up. And when I say it’s my favorite all across town, don’t you think I don’t have my reasons.

Starbucks is my high-maintenance (hello, over $3 for something that‘s going to last me a mere two hours and I‘ll pee out by dinnertime? There goes my new car/college funds…) once-a-week indulgence and I’ll only throw a mini-internal temper tantrum when I have to settle for any other ‘Coffee Bean’ or ‘Caféista’ or some other generic, but entertaining, attempt at a creative espresso-inspired name. But in order to qualify as favorite in my book, you have to: be close (face it, girls, I’m not faithful enough customer to agree to throw away more money in gas to GET to it than what my actual drink alone costs). Be not-semi-but-very affordable (see above for evidence that I’m not made out of money, and finding ones in my push-up bra every once in a while is an exception, gotta love the perks of having a goofy boyfriend?). The girls must be wearing clothes; just for the record, I’m giving you business for my own pleasure, and that unfortunately doesn’t include anything to do with wanting other straight girls giving me a show in their lacy thongs and X-rated lingerie. I don’t want to see your boobs anymore than your grandmother, get over it you damn hoochie! And to finalize the list, you gotta be a straight up fun and upbeat environment. Oh, and make damn good coffee. And in following my strict rubric, you’ll get those beautiful green George Washingtons in your tip jar/cup and you will make your boss happy. And as of now, only one has done so, and thus I am faithfully committed to it for my every-other-daily caffeine fixes from there and there only.

I also have this habit of taking my time when I stop. You see, more than a good 78% of the girls who work there would qualify as “friends” of mine (or life companions in a more logical sense, because none of my real ‘friends’ even offer to bow down and serve my ass and whip up coffee for my delight), and as the interested-in-people person I am [on good days], it’s only natural for me to ask ‘em how their days are going, politely comment on the weather and the latest gossip in politics and US Weekly, are you hiring yet?, etc. And their life story, if I’m in the mood. I’m not categorized as the generic friendly, but I do love spending the time to get to know someone if I think they’re worthy in my book. And seeing as I adore each and every one of my usual baristas, I go forth and do my thing. Once, I even spent a good 20 minutes or so with my car in park as the girl who was working and I covered bases from feng shui’ing the bedroom I had newly moved into to what we thought of ‘s death, to our mutual recently-founded reputations as Food Network junkies and our secret desire to learn how to cook without seeing black when you reach into the oven for the final product. I really wish I was kidding, too. Hey, we all have our quirks/flaws/stories, right? Needless to say, it makes my day, and preferably Wednesday, when I drop on by the stand for my mid-afternoon coffee run and see what’s new with my women. Except I’ve learned the hard way, by a rude streams of honking in attempt to scoot my ass out of the line so everyone can get their drinks. So I’m female, I have a lot to say. Apparently they don’t like that. I’m good at picking my cues (except you wouldn’t know that if this is the first thing you’re reading upon entering my blog), and I really know when it’s my turn to shut my mouth and put a ‘the end’ of whatever story I’m telling, when the dirty looks I negligibly acknowledge in the rearview mirror turn into the one tangible English translation that you’re on someone’s hit list: the middle finger. So, my Americano happily in the cup holder (and the ice magically halfway melted already), I make my exit and begin the part of the day that actually matters to me. I may have pissed everyone on their 3 o’clock work break on Main Street off, but hey, I managed to throw some good conversation in my day, did I not?

#3. (Making the rest of these super short to balance out my essay-length potential numero dos.) Because the sunshine always shows its face on Wednesdays. Whether it’s a quick three minutes of sneaking out of the gray skies it’s hiding behind, or an allday event, the stuck-in-the-middle-of-the-week mode always call for a bit of hope/UV rays. Always. And I love it.

#4. Because I always manage to find myself down with the Is-Friday-Here-Yet? syndrome and have a habit of beginning to mentally plan my weekend out during slow hours at work. (I get paid only slightly over minimum, plus commission, so I have a right to slack off and waste time a little bit… besides, I’m probably the world’s most successful procrastinator, ever. Ever.)

#5. Because there’s always, and mark my words, always mid-week leftovers in the fridge from Sunday-Tuesday night dinners. Or it’s a really good day when I stumble across Chinese takeout or some 4-star-spicy teriyaki yakisoba from when I was too lazy after an all-dayer at work to put my creativity to good use and cook for myself on Saturday night. Mmmm, nothing’s more delicious than day-(or two)-day-after meals, and I suggest you try it sometime if you have refused to up this point due to sanitary issues. Trust me, there’s just something about giving that casserole a few more hours to refrigerate and having all the ingredients mesh together a little bit more for the best possible flavor ever…

#6. Because something surprising or unexpected always sneaks somewhere into my Wednesdays. That monthly Glamour makes its presence known when I walk down to get the mail, or an old ex (the good kind only though) posts a dorky message via my facebook wall, or you drive the back way home from work past the lake and it’s smooth as paper and utterly stunning and you make yourself stop the car and turn off the radio and realize how much beauty you’re surrounded by in life (I know, I know, “Mother Nature is a gift and not a given” blah blah blah… so what if I sound like your mom/pastor, get over it!). I’m convinced by now it’s the little things in life that are thrown together to make the beautiful results, I could live on life’s simplicities and life’s simplicities only, and be fine with it.

#7. Because, at the end of the day - blame it on the probably-expired-and-should-be-thrown-out-soon leftovers, or espresso stand pick-me-up (and causing drama, which contributes to the public’s tolerance levels, and my entertainment), or good weather or simply the fact that I’ve successfully managed to make it halfway through the week without dying due to my extreme trademarks of sleep deprivation/caffeine overdose/road rage - I fall asleep with a smile on my face. And damnit, as stressful or hectic or downright crazy as life can get sometimes, I’d do it a million times over just to go to bed happy and comfortable by Wednesday night (or morning, depending on just how crazy the week really is and how much zzz’s I have to sacrifice for work/school). No matter how many “WTF?!” moments we’ve had in the week, or how many times that jackass in the red Subaru takes the parking spot our heart/love of having not to walk 0.7 of a mile just to get in the building was set on, but we’ve made it to Wednesday, and now I’m saying where’s that Coor’s I deserve?


And I just realized half the time I make lists, whether daily to-do’s or these, I have a tendency to stop at #7. Hmm. We all have our quirks, some of us are just seem to be more obvious about them than others…

all is good and all is well.

Reasons Why I’m In Love With Tuesday Summer Mornings:

#1. You roll outta bed consciously expecting to be faced with a lengthy to-do list, but are surprised when you come to your senses and realize you have… nothing to do. Spontaneity/creativity here we come.

#2. 99.5% of the time you look out the window within 3 minutes of dragging your ass out of bed [big accomplishment for some of us, so self-pride is already soaring by this point] only to see depressing weather. Seriously, it’s like the weather and its weather forecaster [who is convinced he holds the power in that relationship by the way, pisses me off to no end] have this secret deal or unwritten contract stating it WILL be gray and cloudy and blah on Tuesdays. And let me tell you, those gray skies have got lazy and PJ’s and hot cuppa joe and food network/project Runway marathon written all over it, so I guess that weatherman should feel as though he can go on and do whatever he damn well pleases because I usually don’t object him determining my mood in the long run.

#3. Grocery shopping, need I say more? If I’ve failed to establish my mild addiction to supermarkets, here it is: SAFEWAY/ALBERTSON’S/HAGGEN’S owns my soul, and always has. I kid you not [and I wish I was considering how much shit I get for it from my friends], I treat the day I “have to” make a trip to the grocery store as some sort of sacred holiday. It’s just walking/running/skipping/any other form of exercise you very well choose to perform while picking up your necessities [and trust me, I’m known to get creative depending on my energy level] up and down every aisle, knowing once you reach the end and ‘round that corner, only bigger and better things are to present themselves… it’s like a Hollywood thriller, some kind of suspense flick. You never know what’s going to be on sale or, better yet, if new products have hit the shelves and are soaking up their 15 minutes in the time between the time you step foot in the store and last week’s Tuesday grocery run. And don’t get me wrong, bakeries, flea markets, delis of all kinds… they all fall under the category of One Of My Favorite Things In Life. Oh, and not to mention whenever I’m on one of my food adventures, I’m just so inspired to re-start up my not-so-healthy health kick [I’m known to go overboard whenever d i e t is in my monthly vocabulary, and my all-or-nothing personality is to blame]. I see it almost as a competition: I pass people with carts piled high with HFCS-dominant sugary cereals and horribly processed frozen TV dinners, and I consciously think to myself, I’m gonna show them, okay guys, nutritionally-smart Dr. Chissus has entered the building, “can you please point me in the direction of yogurt and broccoli?” Eating healthy makes me feel on top of the world, because, well, my waistline is a whole hell lot smaller than yours so HA. Nonetheless, Tuesdays are reserved for grocery shopping and has been ever since Mom got me hooked on it [I view it as a hobby and not a chore for the record] when I was a little girl.

#4. Coffee’s always more satisfying on a Tuesday. Whether it’s that aroma of strong black off-brand Costco/Starbucks-mixed making its way throughout the house and to your bedroom, and nostrils, or a relaxed internet-blogging session at the local café while soaking up a lowkey and wonderful day, or a quick Starbucks afternoon fix, there’s something spicier about it come the second day of the week. [Note: if the thought hasn’t crossed your mind until I said something, now I bet you’re thinking about it and going, “You know what?, damn, I think she’s really on to something here…”] Maybe I’m speaking for myself, but it seems as though I always fail to make time for a Starbucks run between running errands and OCD’ing my ass through the house, that or I don’t actually sit down and give my senses the opportunity to enjoy the cup of java in front of me on Mondays, and with that said, I try to make up for it on the following day. 12:23pm on Tuesday morning, August 11th, and I hear the café calling my name, mmm iced white chocolate double shot americano w/ nonfat milk , here we come…


#5. Tuesdays are not important. Which makes them fun. I mean think about it, Mondays are the start of the week, The Beginning, the sneak peek of what’s to come and what we should be expecting for the remaining six days, Wednesday is the middle mark of an-already hectic week, Thursdays we find ourselves in TGIF’s-almost-here!,-let’s-start-counting-down-the-hours-by-our-lunch-break-today mode, and Friday’s are, well, Fridays. Code for the best day of the week, English translation: oh hey girls night out with chilled strawberry martinis and cute little lime cosmos in hand, that or lazy night in after a godly long week of work/stress/finances/etc. with some action flicks and forgetting to watch the TV screen and getting distracted with action from the man. But… Tuesdays. Tuesdays. It’s insignificant name is just asking for a lazy/unproductive day [which actually, according to Webster’s, and me, has completely different definitions].

#6. I feel like dancing, all day. Blame it on the fact Beyonce songs keep making their way to my ears/energy level via radio, and I started my morning off right with my 11 o’clock Ellen fix and boy does that girl have it GOING ON. Not so much considering I’m happily taken [and very straight, if that wasn’t established anywhere in that last label] but hey, gotta give it to her, she’s cute for a lesbian. Well, I take that back, she has impressive dancing skills for a lesbian. Well actually, I have nothing to compare her to but… I feel like dancing. I reserve Tuesdays for my perky good moods, end of story.

#7. Let’s just get down to business here and go on a rooftop and SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS: you’ll never guess who I just received a voicemail from. *suspense building up among the audience* [I know, I know, I’m pretty good…] So I was doin’ my thing and pouring myself a glass of fat-free milk to compliment my PB&J whole-wheat flax waffle breakfast sandwich [oh, and if you’re not drooling yet, there’s a good chance that something is clinically wrong with you] and apparently my phone was stuck on silent from my nightly ritual in which I make damn sure nothing in the world will disrupt my good and wonderful 8 hours of beauty zzz’s. Outta the corner of my eye I look over only to see Sadie [yes, I have a nickname for my cell, don’t act like you don’t] glowing with her bright blue background and new… what was that?, new voicemail? Considering it’s not everyday that I get calls at 11:47am, and not only that but calls important enough to leave a voicemail, I’m going to admit that I got a tiny bit excited inside. I was stuck there, the gallon of milk still attached to my hand, fridge door wide open and standing there dumbfounded and confused and yet giddy just because no one EVER calls me before noon, on a good day. So there was only one thing to do: call my dear ol’ voicemail and check the shit out and see what was up. And thankthelord I did, because as soon as my still-half-asleep-self-proclaimed-NOT-a-morning-person self came to my senses and realized the message behind the message, a huge smile came over my employed-but-getting-a-depressing-15-or-so-hours-a-week ass. I was officially offered to meet for a job interview with [insert name of the girl who runs the show here] at a local espresso stand down by the airfields. Now, I thought to myself, don’t work yourself up too much, it’s just an interview. If we were to get technical though, what exactly are my chances? First of all, let’s do the basic math: I would look 100% HOT as a barista and killin’ the shots all day long, not to mention, as genes would have it, I’m personable as hell, and bubbly and friendly [on a good day] usually go hand in hand with that, I mean right? Forget it, confidence is skyhigh, I should have this in the bag. So *fingers crossed*, and cross ‘em tighter than usual, and I’ll come back with preferably good? news in a matter of 23 hours or less [seriously, who in their right mind schedules official biz at 11:15 in the morning? I guess she works/lives around coffee so she does have a right to, but whatev]. Chances are I’ll busy myself self-prepping interview questions and speaking in business terms and big words just to get in habit for the entire afternoon and night, and tonight’s sweet dreams will likely consist of me landing the job and serving local caffeine addicts, and getting tipped from wealthy business people on their way to their multi-million dollar jobs whose checkbooks aren’t even the slightest bit affected by this economy, right and left [can you say hello automatic/out-of-habit/etiquette commission?] and WHAT.T.F., calllllllmmm down Court. It’s a shot. It’s a chance. And a damn good one, and one I will own if I have any say in it.

Until tomorrow at noon when I [happily] break the news, go soak yourself up some afternoon happiness, a satisfying energy boost/caffeine fix, and for god sakes, make it a good day. After all, it’s Tuesday.