It's September aka the beginning of psl season. I'm at Starbucks and psl isn't in my cup. I went too hard over the weekend and my bank account is at Jon Hamm (pre mad men, obvi) level and I refuse to spend whatever money I have on a spice mother fucking late. Instead I ordered an iced green tea sweetened with vanilla preparing an answer in my head if anyone were to question me for going with this cheap Ass drink. 
Starbucks is my sacred place. I vibe off hipsters and studious teens with apple products to make me feel whole when I'm feeling dark. It's a place I can come to reevaluate my life choices when I see someone freak the fuck out when their gold stars aren't scanning or watch someone verbally abuse the part time barista for butchering the spelling of their name as if it's "Sharmane" and they spell it out "Charmaign". I'd just like to say to that person don't be mad at the barista, be mad at yourself for being over 18 and not going to the dmv and demand that they change it to "trish" or something impossible to fuck up. This is getting too dark, I should probably fuck with coffee bean instead.
Namaste
Amanda
