Something From the Comments

Spencer says:

I thought we weren't allowed to call him Wine Store Guy anymore! And blogging about Latte Boy provides so much more drama and angst. Your relationship with Wine Store Guy appears to be without much tumult right now, so maybe it's better that you aren't blogging about him? Just sayin'. :P

The Blog is a place of pseudonyms, but thanks for revealing that I've been talking about him and calling him that for so long that I had to instruct people to use his real name.

FINE YOU GUYS I WILL BLOG ABOUT WINE STORE GUY JESUS CHRIST!

We met because he works at the wine store right off the subway, and I started playing my creepy obsessive game where I would go in and buy wine for no reason just to see if he was there. Then I would talk to everyone about "OMG Wine Store Guy" all the time, and if I was blogging then you'd all have vomited so much but always come back for more just like now.

Then one day I realized he was too sexy, charming, and intelligent for my game, so he graduated to Legitimate Crush and then disappeared for 3 months before I could do anything about it. That's when I used the internet to reach new depths of sociopathic privacy-violation, marked my calendar with what I determined to be the date of his last performance at the summer opera company with which I found out he was singing, and waited for him to return to New York.

The date passed, he didn't show, and I was left alone with my feverish, pathetic imaginings until I went to one of those free Met Opera screenings with Spencer (above, who does not get a pseudonym because when it comes to Google spiders, he has no fear) and Wine Store Guy was there, but inaccessible. He was lucky enough to leave the terrible opera early, and I was not, so I Facebooked him, we started going out, and it turns out he's somehow even better than the fake version I had been making up for so long.

Lastly, his other pseudonym is C. C. Babcock.

Ok are you happy? Now you know the story. The title of this blog is "Story of Wine Store Guy" unless you are Wine Store Guy, in which case the title is "How You Got Saddled With a Creepy Psycho and Didn't Find Out Until You Read His Shitty Blog".

Flushed

My toilet and I are best friends now, and I'm gonna leave it at that.

(Through thick and thin. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!)

Latte Boy Update! -- Latte Boy has been leaking personal information to me, slowly destroying my creepy objectification games. I even know his stupid name (it's a cute name, really) and where he's from and all these things. I'm countering by doing the same. He knows my name and when he told me fix the yucky weather, I said "I can't. God doesn't listen to me; I'm Jewish." So now he knows that. Guess I gotta start treating him like a human bean now! Oh well, maybe I can make him my friend or something stupid like that.

P.S. I'm dating someone. I wonder if he's mad that I blog about Latte Boy more than him.

All of My Posts Are About Starbucks and This One Is No Exception

It happened! This morning I officially became the Foursquare Mayor of my corner Starbucks! Honestly: sort of disappointing.

I was hoping for a lot more pomp around the occasion, but I chickened out from showing the girl at the register how cool I am. I will probably tell Latte Boy tonight. He will care.

Anyway, I have a look-alike and he needs to die. Last week I went in, and the barista working was all "Grande quad macchiato, right?" and I was like "Uh, no." He said, "That's not what you always get?" and I replied, "No, never!" I was aghast because anyone who needs 4 shots of Starbucks' sweet, sweet crude obviously has some Vampire Diaries circulation issues going on inside.

That's when the kid (he has a proper nickname, but it's racist so I'm censoring) told me I look exactly (exactly!) like someone else who comes into the shop all the time. Then he got everyone else working to agree.

So today, a different barista (without a nickname) took my order and then fulfilled the Starbucks Corporation's deluded attempt to make us believe they are a feel-good, neighborhood coffee shop by asking my name for the order. But instead of asking like he should have done, he showed off with: "It's Brian, right?"

"No."

"What? Are you sure?"

"YES I AM SURE OF MY OWN NAME NOT BEING BRIAN!"

So he also went off on how much I look like (apparently) Brian. That's when Looks Like My Ex-Boyfriend Guy, who was there for the original incident, said to No Nickname Guy: "Yeah, someone else did this to him last week" in a tone that further communicated "so just go make his damn drink." I appreciated that. Looks Like My Ex-Boyfriend Guy has always been one of my favorites, and now I like him 12% more. I said to him, "I really want to see what this asshole looks like." He said, "It's true; you two look really similar."

So if you have any leads, I'd like this kid out of the picture as soon as possible. Here's what I know:

1. His name is Brian
2. He looks like me
3. Either:
   1. He cannot maintain a healthy sleep schedule, OR,
   2. He is a vampire who walks in the day

The moral of the story is this is the first time I've been confused with someone male, so I guess it's not all bad.

Fall

I fell up the stairs on the subway platform this morning. It was a truly spectacular fall. Bodies everywhere!

Well... coffee everywhere. Either way, it marked a decisive end to an excellent pre-birthday long-weekend + birthday Tuesday.

I'm 28 now: the almost-30est pre-30 age with the exception of 29. I did wake up yesterday feeling more mature and level-headed (it's uncanny!) but I'm back to normal today. I would like to thank All of Facebook for setting a new standard in quantity of birthday wishes. I stopped counting around 30 (portent of the future?). Anyway, I've certainly lost touch with some lovely people.

I've spent the majority of the summer as a Level 70 Introspector, pondering my life over long sessions of Zelda and Mass Effect in an attempt to shed a routine of social coasting and serial monogamy. The result: rousing success. I feel refreshed, optimistic, and 15% more domestic. I was told that 27 is the age where even the most naysaying start to desire children. If that's the case, then I say that 28 is the age when even the most slovenly start keeping a home in which those children won't die of typhus.

Anyway, I realize there are a couple more weeks until the equinox, but I'm starting my autumn now because it's my favorite season, things are looking up, and I'm in a super good mood. So Happy Fall 2010!

Oh, but to finish my story, I fell up the stairs and spilled my coffee everywhere, and as I was trying to get back up I slipped and fell again, and I was in front of a whole crowd of people who couldn't get around me so all they could do is stand there and watch and then my shoe fell off.

I Am Shame

Have I talked you to death about my iPhone yet? NO!?! OMG YOU GUYS I GOT AN iPHONE HOLY SHIT!

Ok, done. So because of my iPhone, I don't read anymore. Especially on the commute to work. This not because I'm letting my brain dissolve but because I got the NY Times Crosswords app, and that's pretty much the most important thing in my life right now.

**SPOLER ALERT** This post contains spoilers for today's New York Times Crossword Puzzle. I know you will all want to read with caution.

Anyway, the reason I am Shame is because I CHEATED on the crossword today.

The guy sitting in front of me on the bus was also doing today's NY Times crossword, but the print version. I would be doing the print version as well if the subscription rate weren't so outlandishly high for someone who only buys it from the crossword.

Anyway I cheated off him, which is something I was proud of never having done. And he wasn't even good! So I justified it in my head by pretending we were collaborating, which is totally allowed. It's not my fault he wouldn't listen to me.

I kept mentally projecting "AZARIA! It's AZARIA! EXOPLANETS!" but he cut himself off from me, content to have his stupid grid mostly blank rather than acknowledge all we'd done for each other in the past. I was offended, so I stopped trying and just stole STOMA from him. Stupid man.

Anyway, thanks to Will Shortz for allowing me to form yet another pretend relationship with a stranger (Crossword Hat Guy) without the other party's knowledge.

Be My Lovr

I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!

It's finally happnd! I've met the man I will spend the rest of my life with. It's true when they say it hits you just when you stop looking. Here's the story.

I checked out this hot new social club called Grindr. Have you heard of it? They have one in practically every city. Just like any other bar, it was filled with men arrangd by how many feet away they are, so you see the nearby ones first and then scan the ones that are furthr away.

Well I wasn't there for 5 minutes when he approached me. He's 35, 6'1", 165 lbs., and white. He was 351 feet away from me, but now he is zero feet from my heart.

We talkd for minutes, and he's such a good listenr. He wantd to know all about me: what I like to do, how I feel about my body, and he even askd if I live alone or have a roommate. Clearly he knows what it's like to feel like a lonely soul walld off from the world!

I can't wait to go back and talk to him tonight. He promisd that if I did, he'd show me what he looks like above his torso! That will be so nice, but really, it doesn't matter what his face looks like. They say the nipples are the gateway to the soul, and it's so true! I knew instantly.

Oh my gosh, I'm so happy! Thank you, Grindr! Without you, I'd have remained cynical and bittr until I died lonely and alone, but now I believe! I've found love that will last forevr and evr!