Trying to figure out what the post title means? Don’t. It is completely nonsensical.
Randy has been sending voice texts to me recently and unless he talks like a robot, then the texts are garbled. When he does voice text like a robot then the text always includes something about how he’s talking like a robot.
Anyway, we were at the grocery on Sunday morning because that’s what we do even though sleeping in one goddamn Sunday would be nice.
Randy and I have fallen into grocery store habits. I stand at the deli clutching my number and he goes to Starbucks and gets us a drink. We didn’t need anything from the deli today though, so I went with him. I decided to get black tea and load it up with cream and sugar.
Starbuck’s doesn’t carry the black tea I used to get.
The barista told me that I now had a choice between Earl Gray and Chai. I don’t like either. He said they also had an English breakfast tea that was a mix of green and black tea and I settled on that.
I was talking to Randy, not the barista, when I made the comment that I hated chai tea. Apparently, just hearing that someone hates chai tea was enough to shatter the poor boy’s heart. He looked up, his eyes swimming behind his thick black framed glasses and his spirally curls quivering ever so slightly.
Hipster barista: Tea is a religion to me. Can I ask, how many different chai teas have you tried?
Me: uhhhhh. Six?
I don’t know if I’ve tried six. He asked me a question and I panicked.
Hipster barista: People are often confused by chai tea. Chai tea is waaaah wah wah waaaaah wah.
I stopped listening because I didn’t come to Starbucks for Tea History.
Randy, who is a tea fan, mentioned a brand he likes: Have you had Harney’s Russian Country blend? They have it here in the international section.
Hipster barista, curling his lip ever so slightly: Oh, that brand. Well, that brand really isn’t appealing to me at all. I mean, I know a lot of people like it, but they process their leaves with chemicals and I don’t enjoy that strong chemical taste.
Me: Holy shit, Randy. He sounds just like you talking about beer.
We walked away and I laughed at Randy: Dude, he just hipster douche bagged the shit out of you.
Randy: Fuck that guy.
Me: Hahahah. Loser. Chemical tea drinker.
I sipped my tea, which basically tasted like hot watery sweet milk.
Randy worked his way through the beer section which usually takes a while.
An old American Top Forty was playing over head. Help Me Make It Through The Night was in the line up. It was the Gladys Knight and the Pips cover so it must have been an early seventies top 40. A man who looked like a young Anthony Perkins stocked the beer shelves.
The barista story was kind of funny, so I dictated to Randy and he sent me a voice text. He did not use his robot voice.
‘Five years tea is a religion to me’ was one of the lines in the text.
I also had:
- Hey young girl in park stocking the beer shell.
- A hygiene curly headed to read the hipster grande.
- And I am kind of dumb because I don’t know what size one is toasty chai tea.
It’s a good thing I remembered most of what happened because I have no idea what that last line was supposed to be.
When it comes to beer, Randy really is just as douchey as the barista. He has the same little lip curl when he talks about beer he deems beneath him.
I am not a beer fan.
If I drink a beer, I want a lager or maybe a Guinness, but it’s rare. Randy likes to drink beer that is so bitter it melts your tongue. I know. I have tasted them before because he said they were really good. Fucking liar. Still, he tries to include me in his love of beer that has words like ruination and sculpin and bastard and floyd in the titles.
Randy: Smell this beer.
Me: It smells like BO
Me: Cat piss. It smells like cat piss.
Randy: Get the fuck away from my beer.
Then a few hours later:
Randy: Here, smell this one.
Me: Cat piss with undertones of fruit salad that has gone over.
I don’t know why he continues to try.
Yesterday was rainy. Today is hot and muggy. We’re spending our Sunday cooking, cleaning, and avoiding yard work. Randy has his skunky beer in hand and I’m thinking about making a steamy cup of chemicals to relax with.