Slosh

It's Liquid Diet Day!

Coffee for breakfast, frozen hot chocolate for lunch, pink lemonade for snacktime (in progress), and probably one of those Vivanno smoothies with the hunger-defying protein powder for dinner! And if Latte Boy (not to be confused with Sexy Latte Boy) is working tonight, I'll probably get a $2 frappuccino on the way home.

Anyway, I've been inverting the food pyramid semi-professionally since 1982, so it's not like this is any great accomplishment. I just thought you should all know about it.

Now I will tell you about Latte Boy.

Long-time fans of this blog will be aware of a quasi-permanent fixture in my life: Sexy Latte Boy. Sexy Latte Boy is any boy who satisfies all of the following conditions:

1. Pushes coffee
2. Is sexy
3. Is of ambiguous sexuality
4. Is friendly enough to make me love him but not friendly enough to prove he loves me back
5. I don't know his name

At present, there is no Sexy Latte Boy on the radar. The last one disappeared from my corner Starbucks months ago, which is.... actually, I don't want to talk about it.

So Latte Boy is something completely different. "Latte Boy" is an honorary title I have bestowed upon Latte Boy, this guy who works evenings at my corner Starbucks, talks to me like we're friends, and is cute in a seriously queeny way. He's one of those naturally charismatic people I've never understood, and he makes me feel good about myself. Despite the conspicuous lack of "Sexy" in his title (the stipulations of the Sexy Latte Boy moniker demand it), I'm actually very attracted to him, but don't tell my friend Ryan because he will make fun of me.

Anyway, I like pretending we're really going to be friends one day. He likes my Safari Jacket, which he saw when I came in on my way back from the dry cleaners. That is vital. He remembered how I had to take the day off work yesterday even though I had told him 3 days earlier, but most importantly, he likes to say things like "$2.35 sounds like a good price" when I am buying $6 drinks.

So ok that's who Latte Boy is. You can't have him.

Relaunch!

My building has a resident e-mail list so we can all keep in touch about building concerns: rules, new tenants, future improvements, and occasionally things that go horribly wrong in incredible ways.

Last week a guy on the fifth floor wrote (and I am paraphrasing) "Who has a large dog on the 4th or 5th floors because you need to clean up after it. There's a mess on the landing and it stinks and I'm not touching it."

People started responding that they didn't know who it would be. One girl on the first floor said she had a small dog, but she doesn't think it got out. The guy responded: "No, this was definitely a big dog."

The building manager wrote to say that as far as she knew, nobody in the building had a big dog.

That's when one girl spoke up with a theory. She said that morning she was leaving the building and a man was trying to get in. She told him she wouldn't let him in and that he would have to be buzzed in by whomever he was there to see. She was pretty sure he wasn't there to see anyone, but when she returned from the store 5 minutes later, he was leaving the building. So someone had let him in.

The original e-mailer wrote that the incident happened around the same time she indicated, that he had cleaned up the mess and bleached the hell out of the floor, and he concluded by condemning the man for his audacity in entering our building and refusing to clean up after his dog.

That's when the girl wrote back: "That guy didn't have a dog."

Anyway, check out the site redesign. (Still a work-in-progress.) I've decided to start blogging again because the internet needs more poop stories.