Tag Archives: starbucks

Something to be basic and white about in the summer

The day arrived: unicorn frappuccino day. The marketing was pointed and strong, and I was Rainbow Pepe the whole week prior to product launch, pressing refresh on the home page and waiting for it like a 16 year old standing outside the movie theater (e.g., full of giggles and thirsty for a frappuccino).

What is the unicorn frappuccino? A preteen fantasy: a maelstrom of creamy, fruity sweet tarts topped with whip and colored sugar crystal sprinkles. It’s a liquid Fruity Pebbles, if you will. It’s a tropical dreamsicle push-pop, but in a cup. It’s Halloween candy, but none of the chocolate ones, and during the summer. It’s a Nickelodeon slime drop over your senses, but instead of slime it’s a tarty pink and blue cream. It’s like if a mango and a squirt of vanilla got lost in the creme frappuccino assembly line, but the baristas just went with it. It’s a sugary smurf poop. It’s like if Spengler asked sweet tarts and pixie sticks not to cross the streams, but they did it anyway because they’re candy and don’t understand English. It’s like if Starbucks had its own Master Chef Junior where the kids were the baristas, and this is what they presented to Gordon Ramsay. It is colorful and silly and sugary and whimsical but also kind of disgusting, and it will cost me 90 minutes of bikram in caloric intake. Someone on my facebook feed called it “mixed berry confetti cake”, but my taste buds didn’t pick up any cake. I might have enjoyed it more if they had.

This drink is not for me despite my love for both unciorns and fun beverages. I made it a grand total of five sips, and that’s only because I kept drawing new, curious flavors into the straw, and I wanted to be able to accurately describe it.


Pusheen approved, though.

In closing, this was not one of my prouder moments, but I can’t turn my head away from amazing marketing.


My name is Mary


When dilly dallying on your computer at a new Starbucks, do you ever feel like you’re cheating on your normal spots? Somewhere 30 miles away there is a barista wondering where I am today, with a register that has 6 less dollars in it because I took my business elsewhere purely by chance. 30 miles away a wifi is struggling less because my superfluous file downloading and inconvenient streaming isn’t straining it and ruining everyone else’s evening. *shrug*

The reason I’m even giving it thought is because sitting in this particular one makes me feel awkward and nostalgic. 7 years ago I applied to be a barista here, young and cocky, fresh from my 9 month stint as a barista elsewhere and sure that I would be selected because of it. But, as life would have it, I never got a call back. When I ran into the manager again that summer by chance, I, in my most awkward verbal vomit, rubbed it in her face that someone else had hired me–as though she had somehow missed out on this near identical copy of a progressive, 19 year old pseudo barista (they are in fact a dime a dozen). She then told my manager about the incident, because, who wouldn’t? I was a subordinate who was acting out of turn to a manager at a different store. Ah, to be 19 and sure of one’s self. Well, here I am, back at where I started that nascent summer, but with my own apartment, a life, a partner, and a cashflow. One could say I’ve come up in the world, but I might not. I still can’t be relied upon to avoid verbal vomiting to someone important in a pinch. I do it almost daily. Surely I’ve reduced the frequency, but it still happens. My filter is older but not really wiser.

That’s enough self indulgent moroseness for now….


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