HAPPY NEW YEAR
The number 2008, it sounds, I don't know, off.
I crawled over to the Starbucks tucked inside my neighborhood Safeway, wanting out of the house but also not really wanting to go anywhere. If you could transport me, yeah, I'd like to be a lot of places. If I have to walk downtown to the train station, thanks, but I'm gonna stay home. Thank goddess the holidays are over.
I order my ghetto latte, my grande drip in a venti cup, which gives me lots of room for cream. I can eat fats. Carbs, I control. Fats, I eat.
I ordered the drink and while the kid is pouring, I said, almost under my breath, more to myself than the barista, '2008, it sounds so, I don't know, so, well, wrong."
The kid said "I know what you mean. If it's 2008, where is my flying car?"
Another perfect, meaningless moment in the golden tunnel. Happy 2008.
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