the gauntlet's dropped, starbucks

Oh, I'm on to you, you money grubbing, addiction feeding coffee pimp!

You see that over there? No. Jesus, Starbucks*. Look up. Then over to your left.

That over there is me. What am I doing over there, you ask? Good question.

I'm kicking your ass!

What's that? Oh, very nice, Starbucks. Really classy! You want me to repeat that?

Then come closer.

Kicking. Your. Ass.

No more will you make me feel used and unappreciated when I want a frappuccino. Nope. I'm through with you. I can make this baby in my kitchen at a fraction of the cost.

Hell, I can make about a year's worth of these in my kitchen for what it would cost me to drive to one of your many, many locations in my area and get all proper and snooty sounding when I ask for a venti. Assuming I use my very loose grip on math and don't cry when I work out the cost per ounce via a clever and yet still terribly perplexing story problem. Whatever.

So it was nice, Starbucks. Clearly, I had mad love for you. Told you all the time. Even when you didn't ask. I licked your whipped cream and toyed with your pretty green straws.

But no more.

Today, and days after today when I feel like absorbing way too much sugar and chocolaty goodness disguised as some veiled hint of coffee, I will just sashay into my kitchen, and ask myself "What would you like, beautiful?"

I'll respond, "Oh, my, how sweet of you! Wow! Now I know why I like coming here all the time."

And then I'll probably get a little irritated because I imagine a line will start forming behind me, what with other people wanting one of these delicious, cheap and "tastes EXACTLY like Starbucks!!" frappucchinos that I can whip up, so I'll say, "Seriously. I don't got all day here. Beautiful. Cute, yada, yada. Whattaya want?"

So I'll blush and then whisper I want a large (large, I say, not a venti!) frappuccino, all while wondering if I did something wrong and would it be OK if I came back to this kitchen tomorrow? Should I maybe wait to see if that very nice but sometimes easily irritated girl isn't there?

When I've given myself my order, I'll then thank me. Then I'll make it, dollop it, squirt it, stick my straw in it, and suck it down.

In a completely non-sexual way. I mean, honestly! What kinda girl do you take me for?

Sure, you had me at the very first taste,Starbucks. It's stunning how quickly those caffeine addictions take hold. Oh, sure, I know that a frappuccino isn't laden with caffeine, but baby, you brought the good stuff every time. And I told you. Every time. How much I loved you. How I craved you. You knew I did, even without asking, but I spilled. You did that to me, Starbucks.

I know. I know we talked about how we were committed. The only one for each other. You forgave me when I admitted that Caribou Coffee flashed it's good stuff at me a couple times. "We all have our weaknesses," you said. "But you know who whips your froth and gets you all steamed." True. Very true. For me, it always came back to you. You're like magic, Starbucks. I may never understand.

But no more! Although I know I'm gonna dwell on the fact that the chick in my kitchen making these tasty knock-off frappuccinos for me called me beautiful (but I won't think of her that way, you know what way I'm sayin'? Yeah, I know you'd like that, Starbucks), the time has come for us to wean ourselves of the other.

So thank you, Starbucks. Thanks for the love and for giving me things I sometimes didn't even realize I wanted (That strawberry frappuccino? Baby, you were so right about that!). I can take my own silly cravings into my own hands now. I do that a lot anyway.

Unless, of course, I'm at work and you lean over and whisper in my ear something about how bad I want one and "Hey, beautiful girl, that 50 percent discount would so rock hard up in there, what with all that pretty coin you're saving making knock-offs in your kitchen and all." Then, yes, alas, I'll probably cave.

'Cause you know me, Starbucks. Apparently I'm easy, and I'm so yours when you do that to me.

But still. I'm calling you out, and warning you, fair and square. I have a mean little kick. Especially when I'm hopped up on your sugar, sugar.

And, um, well...Panera over there has been eye humping me for a couple of months, and you know....sometimes we're fickle.

* I realize it's not an ad for a delicious Starbucks frappuccino, but seriously, it was worth it just to include. Glen! Glen, Glen, Glen!