Mod and I hung out last night and shot the shit. She just got a new iBook. We geeked out so hard, it still hurts. I will spare you the details. I know I am supposed to be on the wagon, but she brought over a bottle of champagne and I’m no idiot. It was good to see her even though she made me hang out in north beach too long with cranky allergies at a stupid hippy juice bar.
For the record, I do not like hippies. I know this is a generalization and I’m stereotyping, and I don’t appologize for it. They are suppose to be all about the small details in life, right? Yet they miss the most important details. For instance. I went into a new hippy juice bar and ordered a pot of tea. They have nice, loose leaf tea there, ok, that’s good. They have miss-matched earthenware mugs, which were kinda nice, but then, they pull out this silver tea pot. It was all curvy and pretty. It had so many flaws as a functional tea pot, by the time I was done drinking my tea, I was so dissatisfied with my experience, I wanted to walk away without paying, and I am definitely not an “off the menu” kind of girl.
The pot handle was so hot, It burned my hand. It was unbelievably hot, like McDonalds scaulding coffee in the lap hot. They had tables outside that were made from mesh fence. The tea pot, full of scaulding water, had dainty little feet. The pot could not sit on the table, every attempt I made, it would start to slip into a hole, not good when I start writing my notes for my final exam and the table starts wiggling around. I would be one cooked goose. So I went in to grab a plate and the hippy man insisted on bringing the plate out to me. I wanted him to leave me alone. Just give me the damn plate and stop asking me how I feel. I feel angry! I feel ripped off with your $5.50 tiny tea pot that burned me and made me angry. So go serve your dangerous tea to someone else, hippy man.