Coffee and Dirt

Well it has been yet another day of crushing disappointments. All I wanted was a little excitement or possibly nudity or failing that, some juicy gossip, but no, the fickle finger of fate once again failed to point at the Coffee Bitch. I thought the day was going to start with some excitement when a guy came in real early, told me that he would order in a second, sat down and starting getting out his fixings. Well as I have repeatedly said I am the most tolerant Bitch in the world but even my world has limits (honestly, it does, no really it does). So pausing only to collect my buddy Mr Glock from under the counter I prepare to escort him gracefully off the premises. Seeing me approach he held up his hand and said “It’s OK I am a diabetic”. Well he sorted himself out and then apologized for shooting up in public but apparently it was an emergency fix. By now he is either hypo or hyper glycemic and he needs his carbs for which purpose he orders three monster BLTs and a gallon of soda so all is forgiven. However I still watched him eat with my finger hovering over the 1 having already dialed 9-1.

Years ago back in the UK I had a buddy whose pancreas died at the age of 30 and sadly he went straight onto the needle. Whilst he was getting used to insulin he carried a card that read something along the lines of; I am a diabetic if I appear to be intoxicated I maybe in insulin shock. Please call Emergency Services”. I thought this was such a neat idea I carried a card that said, “I am a drunk. If I appear to be intoxicated I probably am, do not inject me with anything”.

Later DQ’s friend came in with a colleague for lunch so I thought I might just pump her for some dirt on DQ. Of all the people in Smalltown I was sure that DQ would be a rich and hitherto untapped source of indiscretions. DQ’sF (for want of a better nom de plume) started off with “We went on a conference together once”. Oh yeah baby this is what I want to hear, “but nothing bad happened”. Putting my tape recorder away I turned to her colleague who told me that she graduated High School with the girly lawyer next door and what is more the girly lawyer was a cheerleader. Now one hesitates to make sweeping generalizations but I think that we can agree here that all cheerleaders are noisy, promiscuous little trollops whose only ambition is to gratify the needs of the quarterback under the bleachers. So pen akimbo I waited only to be told that she was a really nice person. God if things get anymore refined here I will have to start inventing stories.

Next time these two are going to get one of my famous Ketamine Hydrochloride lattes and then we will see who is the pillar of discretion.

Watch this space
TCB