Tag Archive: starbucks


I’ve been menstruating since, like, sixth grade. Blood coming out of my body is not necessarily a new thing.

But, um, that blood comes out of my vagina. And it’s regular, you know? Like, I can pretty much count on it.  And when I forget about it, I just have to remember the last time I cried in my bed for three days in a row for no particular reason (e.g. Drew uses the last of the milk on his second bowl of cereal Christmas morning; a stranger at Meijer gives me a dirty look; a Folgers Coffee commercial on TV) and I’ll realize that it’s about that time again.

But, this morning, when I realized that my body was gushing blood, I freaked the fuck out.

I do not like blood. I’d be, like, the worst vampire ever. It makes me queasy. Ever since Drew wrecked his face and I had to run from the neighbor’s house at age 5 (or something?) to tell our parents Drew’s lip was … not really on his face anymore, things just haven’t been okay for me and Blood. Even when it comes out of my vagina, I have to distance myself from it; I have to pretend it’s not really blood. Ugh. I have the willies just thinking about it.

Anyway, this gushing blood? It was not coming from my ladybox.

(Sorry I talked about my vagina, Drew.)

I can’t even tell you the last time I had a bloody nose.

Even though I’m clumsy as fuck and run into shit all the time, I haven’t hit my nose in a way that makes it bleed. When Drew chucked a tennis ball at my face, my nose didn’t bleed.

I wasn’t even participating in a strenuous activity. Nothing happened. There was no trauma to my face.

(This leads me to believe that something exploded in my brain and that I’m probably going to die.)

I was driving to work this morning, just driving along listening to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on CD when OUT OF NOWHERE my nose started gushing blood. Literally. I couldn’t get a Kleenex to my face fast enough. There was SO MUCH BLOOD. And it was everywhere.

I was so ill-equipped.  What, with the almost-empty, smashed-to-hell box of Kleenex I keep in my car, the fact I was driving at a barely-legal 78 miles an hour on I-96 at 8am, and OH YEAH I HAVE NEVER HAD A BLOODY NOSE AND ALL OF MY FIRST-AID TRAINING APPARENTLY FLEW OUT OF MY BRAIN IN A PANIC BECAUSE I DO NOT POSSESS GRACE UNDER FIRE.

My intention was that I would be able to stop at Starbucks or Beaners (fuck that, I refuse to call it Biggby) to grab a caramel macchiato or chai latte (respectively) and make it to work on time. Ohhhh, no. That did not happen, although I did pull into the Starbucks parking lot to try to stop the bleeding. To no avail.

I drove the rest of the way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my nose while I called my mother in a panic (she didn’t pick up; she doesn’t love me.) and machine gun-like sobs escaped from my lungs. I cried my way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my left nostril.

So attractive.

When I finally got to work, it looked like I had killed someone.

There was blood ALL OVER my scarf (the one Drew brought home for me from VIENNA!), my coat, the steering wheel in my car, my pants, both of my hands and all down my arms.

I was a fucking mess.

Seriously, that kid on youtube who got all upset about the blood? You know what I’m talking about: BLOOD?! NOT FUNNYYYYYYY!!! He was fucking right.

I even opened the first aid kit I keep in my car for sanitizing wipes to wipe all of the blood off of my hands and the steering wheel.  It only kinda worked, though, because the first aid kit is kinda old and it has been sitting in my car for a while so the wet-wipe thing I used was dried out.  So, mostly, I dumped a fuck-ton of antibacterial hand gel everywhere and wiped with the not-wet-at-all wet-wipe (because I DIDN’T HAVE ANYMORE KLEENEX LEFT!). Things didn’t really work out for me this morning as I was self-conscious about my bloody-ness all day long.

Here’s the silver lining though: at least this didn’t happen on a Monday. My whole week would have been fucked.

(OMG I can’t believe I’m even about to say this- because it’s terrible and very, very offensive, but oh well I’m going to anyway…) All I could think of, though, through the whole ordeal: If I had The HIV, this would be a nightmare. And if I was a hemophiliac, I would be so fucked right now.

Advertisements

I had a day off today. ‘Cause it’s Tuesday, and I usually have Tuesdays off.

Now that my mom’s house (the house I’ve lived in most of my life) is officially on the market, we’ve had a few showings so far. Today happened to be one of those days that we had a showing. It was to begin at 11 o’clock this morning. I was to do one last sweep of the house this morning and make sure everything was completely clean and everything was in its place.

I woke up and took a shower, then proceeded to get dressed. I picked up all the clothes from my floor and made my bed. It was while I was putting make up on that I realized that my vision was not right. I tried to ignore it; I didn’t want to think about what spotty vision might mean. I had experienced this before, a couple years ago, but wanted desperately not to acknowledge the possibility of what was coming.

Once I was dressed and ready, I still had some time before I needed to leave the house, so I did my once-over. I went through the bedrooms upstairs and turned the lights on and made sure Drew’s room didn’t smell like “sweaty boy” like it normally does while he’s home. Then I heard the doorbell ring.

Panic!

False alarm. It was Lenny, our creepy, toothless Orkin Man. WTF. I wanted to be like, Lenny, didn’t my mom tell you not to come here until later today? But I didn’t. Instead, I went back to my room and fucked around on twitter and checked Perez Hilton. Then he came upstairs, came in my room and handed me a sheet of paper. I shoved it in my desk drawer and looked out the window to watch him leave.

I then gathered my belongings and headed to Hobby Lobby.  I needed to get picture frames for a certain little nugget’s glamour shots. I probably shouldn’t have been driving, though, because my vision was still fucked and I was now starting to feel like I was either going to pass out or throw up.  My head was killing me. It was while I was clutching onto a shelf at Hobby Lobby that I admitted to myself that I was experiencing a migraine.  I was pissed, too, because I really haven’t had one in a while. I did not need this!! Especially when I had no choice but to be homeless!! Did the lights need to be so bright??

It had just turned 11 o’clock as I was walking out of Hobby Lobby. I wanted to knife the people in my house. Instead, I went to starbucks, where Althea, the starbucks lady who calls me Kate, was training a newbie and told him that I always, always, always get a caramel macchiatto and that I am a regular. At starbucks, I was a hot damn mess.  All of the comfy chairs were taken, and I wanted to knife the ladies who were sitting in them. Didn’t they know I needed to curl up and die on one of those chairs?! I sat at a table for about 7 minutes then decided I would just go be a homeless person and sleep in my car.

But I knew I didn’t really want to sleep in my car, especially in such a public place. That’s shady. And I was wearing a dress. Awkward. So, I got behind the wheel again and drove in the direction of home.  Those people were still at my house so I circled the block once and drove aimlessly through the neighborhood until 11:20, when I noticed that they were gone.  I parked my car in the garage, ran inside, and threw up. At least it wasn’t on the floor. Then I crawled in my mom’s bed and zonked out for a couple hours.

My phone went off and woke me up. I got some water and stayed in bed. I started watching Grey’s Anatomy, season 1. I’m almost done with it. Soooo productive!

Today kinda blew.

Let’s just talk really quick about what a slacker I am.

I know it’s Thursday, and I need to post today. But honestly, guys, I’m just not in it to win it today.

All I really want to do right now is paint my nail and watch the episode of  The Hills that I missed on Tuesday due to my accounting class.

I’m thinking I’m going to paint my nails turquoise again (I know you care so much).

This week has been cray cray and I should have known today would be outta control by the communication-fail I experienced at starbucks this morning.

Okay, fine. I’ll tell you that story.

It stems back to last night. Last night being a Wednesday. You know, hump day. The middle of the week. A work-day. A day that came before another day at work.

This, apparently, was not enough to deter me from getting completely tanked last night. It was an accident, but whatever. I knew it was trouble when I was only two mojitos in and I was “multitasking” in the bathroom (read: applying chapstick for five minutes and forgetting what I was doing in there anyway). I couldn’t really feel my lips anymore and my filter was letting up so aaaaall kinds of crap was coming out of my mouth. Because this wasn’t bad enough, we ordered a pitcher of sangria. For two of us.

Good decisions all around.

Obviously, this morning was a little less than perfect. Everything seemed just a little harder than usual but I felt pretty okay. My head wasn’t pounding. I didn’t want to die. I counted it as a success.

I stopped at starbucks on the way to work. A girl’s gotta get her caramel macchiato on.

I get the same thing basically every time. In the summer, a grande extra caramel caramel macchiato with light ice is my jam. It just rolls off my tongue when the employees ask me what they can get started. This morning was sooooo not right. I honestly have no idea what I said to the poor male barista who had the unfortunate task of speaking to me. All I got back was a blank stare and no movement of that sharpie poised in his right hand.

(In other news: I wish I was left handed)

So I guess I started over. “Caramel macchiato?” Luckily he was already holding a grande sized cup for iced beverages. It’s like he just knew what I was trying to say.

I nodded and told him grande, iced. Yes.

Then I threw in “extra caramel? Did I already say that??”

Totally left that part out.

Everything ended up being okay. But I was embarrassed. Especially when I added the ammendment “light ice! please!” to my beverage as the girl making my drink turned around to do the ice part. She hates me, I’m sure of it.

I shouldn’t be allowed in public.

Now that you’ve gotten the play-by-play of my starbucks experience, and I have inevitably bored you to tears, I will say goodnight now.

xoxo