The Great Coffee Debate - No, the Other One

Thought I’d take a break from thoughts on media and religion, and start talking about what really matters in life - coffee. Each day presents new challenges, new faces, new experiences (which is great). But there are also a few consistencies that help establish stability (also good). One of these regular daily occurrences, and the one I would argue to be most important, is none other than my friend, an invigorating cup ‘o joe.

Coffee literally fuels my day, every day. I make a four-cup pot in the morning and typically stop for some extra goop on my way to work. Like most people in this city, coffee is a part of my life. I enjoy the aroma. I enjoy the people I meet in the coffee shops. I enjoy the caffeine. I enjoy the short reprieve on my walk to work and the realization that ok, now I am ready for this day. And I enjoy the power of personal choice associated with a cup of coffee. Do I want milk today? Sugar? Espresso? Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. But it’s definitely up to me. I can start my day off with a rock-hard decision. Feels good.

Until…

I decided to get some treats for my team at work this week. So I stopped in the Krispy Kreme around 7:45 a.m. for 48 donut holes and, of course, a cup of coffee for myself.

Me: “48 donut holes, please.”
Lady: “What kind?”
Me: “Um, half chocolate, half regular.”

[Donut counting takes place]

Lady: “Ok, here you go.”
Me: “Great, thanks! And can I get a tall of your bold coffee. That’s it.”
Lady: “A what?”
Me: “Just a tall coffee, please. The bold flavor. Thanks.”
Lady: “Excuse me, but we don’t have ‘tall’ coffee.”
Me: “Um, ok.”
Lady [now with attitude]: “You’re not in Starbucks.”
Me: “Ok, sorry.”
Lady: “I used to work there though. Those bitches.”
Me: “Huh.”
Lady: “So you want a small?”
Me [checking the menu above]: “Yeah, small. That’s good. Thanks.”

As I walked to work that day, carrying my donut holes and coffee, I realized several things.

One, the bitchiness of that lady’s ex-coworkers is apparently contagious.

Two, maybe I was wrong about the whole “personal choice” and “rock-hard decision” thing. Maybe I’m completely powerLESS when it comes to coffee. Could that be true? Have I been brainwashed by the big bad Starbucks? Not every coffee shop has tall, grande and venti? WHAT??!!? Maybe we’re all puppets when it comes to coffee choices. We think we rule our own destiny when we say things like, “I’ll have a grande skim hazelnut mocha, sugar free syrup, no whip, extra shot… and can you leave the top off?” But what we fail to realize is that we’ve been trained to say that. It’s totally a false sense of control. Come on people. You’re spending over three bucks on a small amount of liquid when you could easily just get a plain coffee, add your own milk and there you go. “But it tastes so good,” right? “They make it just the way I like it.” Oh no, they tell you how you like it.

My confusion in Krispy Kreme was a real eye-opener for me. Of course not everyone serves tall, grande and venti! Man, the effects of this homogenized society. Not good.

Three, I started to contemplate the meaning of tall, grande and venti. And I realized that the brainwashing is even worse than I originally imagined. Why? Because it’s not even a logical order. Let me explain.

The real sizes of coffee cups, at Starbucks as well as other coffee shops, are 12 oz, 16 oz and 20 oz. That’s pretty standard for “to go” coffee. “Venti” actually does mean “20” in Italian (shout out to my heritage!). So, in logical order, the 16 oz should be called “sedici” and the 12 oz “dodici.” But no! What the hell? They try to act all cool with the Italian word, but don’t really follow through. Posers.

Furthermore, if the 12 oz is “tall,” then the next should be “taller” and then, you guessed it, “tallest.” But this baffles me too, because shouldn’t “tall” be one of the bigger sizes to begin with? And then we should have a “short” and maybe a “holy crap he’s huge” size.

You get the point. Not only are we conditioned to think that tall, grande and venti are normal, but the conditioning is not based in any sort of logic. I’d like to thank you, bitchy lady in Krispy Kreme, for bringing all this to my attention.

By the way, the donut holes in Krispy Kreme are like heaven in a little ball of sugar and fat. Mmmmm….

Mary Magdalene

Just wanted to point out that Anne Bancroft passed away recently. It's a sad day for us all really. With such groundbreaking performances as Mrs. Robinson and Anne Sullivan, she made a strong mark on American cinematography. However, the role that changed my life had to be her depiction of Mary Magdalene in Jesus of Nazareth.

As a Catholic school girl (don't get any ideas, I really was a Catholic school girl, and honestly very innocent, until reality set in, but that's another story) ... anyway, as a Catholic school girl, I was forced to watch Jesus of Nazareth at least 100 times in grade school and high school. Every chance we got, we watched that frickin' movie. I'm sorry, did someone say brainwashing cult? Don't get me wrong, it's a great movie - far superior to the overly scary Mel Gibson version, by the way - but perhaps slight overkill in my early upbringing.

The character in the movie that always struck me was Mary Magdalene, played by Anne Bancroft. (Note: I had no idea who Anne Bancroft was at the time, and it’s really not relevant, but provided a good segue for this post.)

Mary Magdalene had a bad rap, you know, being a prostitute and all that. But she was cool. She knew how to hang with the apostles. And she was one of the few major female characters in the Bible. Too bad she was a whore. Looking back, I wonder who my role model was supposed to be… the immaculate Mary, mother of God, born without original sin? ‘Cause that’s totally attainable. Ha. Or maybe Mary Magdalene, the sinful, yet forgiven, prostitute. Hmmmm…

So I’ve always leant towards the prostitute, not because I consider myself to be one, but maybe because she wasn’t perfect, and I knew I was far from the Catholic perception of “perfect.” Plus you know she was hooking up with the big JC. Come on, people. He was half man and half god, right? And I think we can all figure out which half was which, if ya know what I’m sayin’.

And also, the best song in Jesus Christ, Superstar is “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” sung by none other than my favorite, the original Eminem. You go Mary Magdalene. That song rocks out.

So I was convinced that Mary Magdalene was to be my role model. A sinner, yes, but she was transformed. She saw love and compassion in the eyes of Christ and turned her life around. She, amazingly, didn’t need to sell herself anymore because she joined a cult that provided food and shelter I guess. (Sorry, I’m going to hell, I know.) She was a devote follower. Despite her wretched sins, she was forgiven. Ok, I could deal with that. Until…

I read recently that Mary Magdalene was not a prostitute. WHAT?!?!? I know. Apparently, there are a lot of scholars out there who say that nothing in the New Testament says she was a whore. This is what we know:

Luke writes that Jesus casts seven demons from her, after which she joins his disciples and provides for them. Then, she witnesses the crucifixion from the foot of the cross, after the male disciples fled. She witnessed Christ’s burial. And she was the first witness to the resurrection and was sent by Jesus to tell his other disciples of his return, therefore called the “Apostle of the Apostles.”

Those are facts. Well, as much as the Bible is able to provide facts anyway. So how did she get this awful reputation? Answer: at the end of the 6th century, Pope Gregory the Great gave a sermon in which he characterized Mary Magdalene as a prostitute. Possibly incited by rumor already out there, but still. Way to knock us down, Pope Man.

Many are using the facts about Mary Magdalene as reasons to ordain women in the Catholic Church. If she was the first person that Jesus appeared to after the resurrection, then she, and women everywhere, must be worthy. I’m not going to get into that argument, but I have to say, the story of Mary Magdalene is now more inspiring. She was not a “fallen woman” or a “harlot” as Pope Gregory the Great would have us think. She was a strong leader. And little Catholic girls everywhere should know that... I mean, if we're going to brainwash them, might as well try to use the truth.

http://www.danbrown.com/media/morenews/time.html

Deep Throat

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"That's the man!"

There is a program in DC called "Street Sense" (www.streetsense.org). Basically, Street Sense is a monthly newspaper that educates people about homelessness and local poverty issues. They hire "vendors," who are typically homeless people, to sell the papers. They pay 30 cents per paper and sell it for one dollar, making about $50 bucks a day, or more, depending on which area of the city they claim.

It's a great cause, and many of the issues raised in the coverage are worth reading. Plus you feel good contributing. The vendors work hard, sometimes in really cold or really hot conditions. And they never complain. After all, this is part of their livelihood and their attempt to get back on their feet.

So I'm walking to work yesterday, and I see a vendor on the corner of 18th and K. I've seen this guy before, an older gentleman probably in his 70's. Wrinkled black face and hands, not many teeth. But always a smile. And a big, "STREET SENSE! GET YOUR STREET SENSE! NEW COPY! STREET SENSE!"

Only this time he looks different. Ah ha! I figure it out. He’s wearing a suit! And not your typical suit ... this one is from way back in the day. It was light tan and would've been perfectly complemented by a top hat, bow tie, cane and a flower in the lapel. And maybe some big band music. No, wait, blues. Yes, blues is much better. This guy has style.

He looks so cute all dressed up that I have to buy a paper.

I grab a dollar bill and make my way over to him. This is the clincher right here. As he hands me the paper, he starts saying, repeatedly, "That's the man! That's the man right there! Mmmmm hmmmm. That's the man alright."

Now, I'm thinking, I'm a girl. I mean, I know I have short hair and everything, but I think I'm undoubtedly of the feminine gender. So I'm confused. I almost say, in my defense, "Sir..." And then I was hoping he'd recognize a girl's voice and let it go at that. I'm also thinking, well, maybe he thinks I'm SO cool that he can include me in his super cool circle of friends, who all, by default, call each other "man?" Sometimes I call my friends man or, more likely, dude so that would've been ok.

So he continues saying, “That’s the man!” Just as I convince myself that I am, in fact, “the man,” I almost reply, “Thanks, man! Just trying to help you out, you know how it is.” But then I realize…

He’s pointing to a picture of himself in the paper itself. He’s the man! He had been featured in the “vendor spotlight” and was so proud to see his picture in print, it was adorable. He just wanted to share his excitement with me.

So, I felt like schmuck, but I was so happy to see his face light up like that. Also helps to explain the special suit. Deep down, though, I feel like he was talking to me. I feel like we have a bond. And I AM the man.

Stamps

So I try to do something for the greater good and this is the response I get:

"here's what i think of your request...see below"
--- From an anonymous, funny, yet bitchy good friend of mine

ORIGINAL EMAIL, SENT BY ME, WITH ANONYMOUS FRIEND’S INPUT IN CAPS

We all need stamps. For an extra $1.60, you can have your stamps and fight breast cancer at the same time. The government actually helps us do this. Plus, $9.00 is a nice even number, compared to the awkwardly changed $7.40 you'd pay for regular (and might I add, boring) stamps. $1.60 CAN GET YOU A BEER AT THE RIGHT BAR ON THE RIGHT NIGHT; IT PAYS FOR 1/2 A PACK OF SMOKES; YOU CAN GET 1/2 TANK OF GAS...WELL, YOU GET THE POINT

Background information (www.curebreastcancer.org):
Despite some wishful reports, breast cancer is on the rise worldwide. In the United States alone, as the baby boomer generation ages, the National Cancer Institute (NCI) predicts that 480,000 women will have been diagnosed with invasive breast cancers by 2017. While similar statistics are not available internationally, there is every reason to believe that such dramatic increases will be global.

The Breast Cancer Research Stamp was issued in 1998 at a White House ceremony following two years of congressional lobbying. It was the first semi-postal (a stamp priced above its actual value) in United States history. To date, more than 600 million stamps have been sold, raising more than $50 million for breast cancer research.

The stamp depicts Diana, the huntress and goddess of fertility, reaching behind her head to pull an arrow from her quiver to fend off an enemy, in this case, breast cancer. The image reflects the same position that a woman assumes for a breast self-exam and mammography.

What you can do TODAY:
1. Go out and purchase some of these stamps. IS THIS CHICK NAKED? CAN I REALLY PUT PORN ON MY MAIL?
2. Forward this to all your friends and urge them to do the same.

Top 10 things you can do with stamps:
1. Pay your bills ALL I CAN SAY IS ONLINE BILL PAY (WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN)
2. Send letters to people (ah hem.... ) EMAIL WORKS JUST FINE
3. Create cool collages STICKERS CAN WORK JUST AS EFFECTIVELY. THAT OR A DECK OF CARDS
4. Use as tape in emergencies HOW DOES THAT HELP IF I'M TRAPPED I A BURNING CAR?
5. Promote breast cancer awareness and help fund research for a cure OK. I WON'T TOUCH THIS ONE
6. Decorate your notebook DON'T LOOK GOOD ON COMPUTERS...HMMM
7. Discreetly stick to someone's back because you want to "ship them far away." People will be amused LOL. BEST REASON OF THE BUNCH
8. Collect them ALONG WITH YOUR COIN COLLECTION
9. Give them as presents. Everyone loves a good stamp EVERYONE LOVES A GOOD...HMMM...USE YOUR IMAGINATION
10. Promote breast cancer awareness and help fund research for a cure (purposely repeated) YES, GREAT CAUSE

Many of us know women and their families who are forever affected by breast cancer.

"It takes so little to do so much..."

So, in the end, it's still a great cause and I fully support buying these stamps. By the way, I do not own a stamp collection.

Crazy Exhibitionist Boxer Lady Bears All in Women’s Locker Room

I’ve never seen anything like it. And, believe me, I’ve seen a lot. I go to a gym where people tend to “show off” quite a bit, but this lady has gone a step too far.

As background, I started taking boxing and kickboxing classes at my gym every week. It’s a great workout, and I love every minute of it, as well as the good night sleep I get afterwards. I’ve become somewhat of a regular. People recognize me, the instructors make fun of me, it’s great.

There is a woman who attends the Tuesday night kickboxing class every week, and, judging by her rather large, yet well-toned, exterior, she’s been a regular far longer than I have. She has her own gloves, just like I do, but hers are for actual boxing, like the version where you hit people. [side note: I prefer hitting bags, not people.] She wears actual boxing clothing, which is very cool, but also somewhat revealing – pretty much a sports bra and loose pants. And if you’re a “truly cool” boxer, the pieces of your boxing outfit should undoubtedly match. Hers do.

This woman has shown up to class with black eyes and bruises on her arms. Nothing to be alarmed about. No need to call social services. I think she’s actually boxing – in the ring. I saw Million Dollar Baby and I ain’t gonna do it. I ain’t gonna do it, Boss!

So you’d think there would be some mutual respect going on between the instructor and this woman. Our instructor is the coolest guy ever. He’s actually a middleweight champion. But, no. He barely talks to her. I should’ve known something was up.

Now that you have the background, let’s get right down to some good ole fashioned exhibitionism.

At the end of every kickboxing class, we take off our gloves and do some stretches. Then we clap for the instructor and start to gather our things. Meanwhile, the music still plays just because they haven’t turned it off yet. Most people are thinking, I’m ready to go home, get me some water, etc. Not crazy exhibitionist boxer lady. No, she starts dancing to the music, in front of the wall of mirrors, staring at herself.

She dances as if she’s in a strip club and she, herself, is her only audience. It’s as if no one is in the room. It’s not like fun, I’m with my girlfriends, kind of dancing. It’s seductive and sexual. It’s almost dirty. To make it worse, she makes faces into the mirror like she’s actually having sex. I wonder what’s going on under those baggy pants now that I think about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good seductive dance with myself in front of a wall of mirrors on occasion, but I don’t think I’d do it in front of 20 people at the gym. Save it for your cat, lady.

And the icing on the cake. The other day, as I was walking out of the ladies locker room, I spotted her. You really can’t miss those muscular arms. I’m surprised that’s the first thing I noticed actually, because she was COMPLETELY naked. And she was drying her boobs with the HAIRDRYER. Who does that? And why would you do that? Maybe her boobs were especially wet that day. But wouldn’t you know, she was doing it in front of a mirror.

When you get right down to it, I don’t mind outward signs of anyone’s sexuality. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. However, I am totally distracted by this woman. Am I jealous? Am I jealous that she is able to be so openly exhibitionist? Do I secretly want to be one? I don’t think so… I guess crazy exhibitionist boxer lady bothers me because she obviously gets off on her own body, and that, to me, seems sort of self-absorbed. But, hey, she’s not hurting anyone, right?

Just you wait. Crazy exhibitionist boxer lady, if you ever read this, this is NOT about you. You could totally kick my ass and I, in no way, wish to offend you. Now go find a mirror and rock out. You go girl.

FYI ---

Exhibitionist (n.)
1: someone with a compulsive desire to expose the genitals [syn: flasher] 2: someone who deliberately behaves in such a way as to attract attention [syn: show-off]

I couldn't resist

I know I said I would avoid political commentary, but this was just so interesting and upsetting to me, that I had to pass it on.

US accused of trying to block abortion pills
Sarah Boseley, health editor
The Guardian (UK paper)
Thursday April 21, 2005

http://www.guardian.co.uk/print/0,3858,5175920-103681,00.html

The US government is trying to block the World Health Organisation from endorsing two abortion pills which could save the lives of some of the 68,000 women who die from unsafe practices in poor countries every year.

The WHO wants to put the pills on its essential medicines list, which constitutes official advice to all governments on the basic drugs their doctors should have available.

Last month, an expert committee met to consider a number of new drugs for inclusion on the list. They approved for the first time two pills, to be used in combination for the termination of early pregnancy, called mifepristone and misoprostol. In poor countries where abortion is legal, doctors currently have no alternative to surgery.

The Guardian understands that the US department of health and human services has been lobbying the director general's office at the WHO to block approval of the pills, in line with President George Bush's neoconservative stance on abortion.

While the availability of pills might make abortion easier and could increase the number choosing it, the experts want them listed to reduce the deaths and damage caused by surgery. Every year, 19 million women have unsafe abortions - 18.5 million of those take place in developing countries. An estimated 68,000 women die as a result of botched or unhygienic surgery, while many others suffer long-term damage, including sterility.

The WHO's own department of reproductive health proposed the addition of the abortion pills to the list.

In a review of the drugs for the committee, a Brazilian professor of pharmacology, Lenita Wannmacher, wrote: "There is great concern about the effectiveness and safety of surgical methods that may be less effective and may increase the risk of infection, uterine perforation, cervical laceration, incomplete evacuation, haemorrhage, miscarriage, future sterility and even death."

The risk of death from abortion in developing countries is 100 times higher than in countries such as the UK, where mifepristone has been licensed since 1991. The pills were licensed in the US in 2000.

The WHO committee, which included two British and two US experts, recommended unanimously that the pills go on the essential medicines list. But although the director general's approval is usually a formality and the changes are published within days, more than a month has now passed.

On March 23, the director general's office wrote to committee members asking if they had considered a warning that mifepristone can, in rare cases, carry a risk of serious bacterial infections, sepsis and bleeding. The committee members replied that all side-effects had been considered, adding that the risks of infection and bleeding from surgery in poor countries were far greater.

One committee member told the Guardian that all the evidence on the risks and benefits of the pills had been on the WHO website for months.

A spokeswoman for the WHO director general's office said there had been delays because "we had some questions and sought clarification."

Asked whether there had been any contact between the US department of health and human services and the director general's office, she said: "I can't answer that. I just don't know." She said a decision would be made within days.

The Circle of Life

As the great Sir Elton John once wrote, it’s the circle of life, and it moves us all. Through despair and hope. Through faith and love… was that before or after the baby lion watches his own father get killed by a, what was it? Stampede of hyenas? Or was it Jeremy Irons? I don’t remember. But it was not good. Disney movies are scary.

Anyway, I had a revelation this morning that I thought I’d share. There has been a lot of change in my life recently. Out with the old and in with the new. Connecting the past to the present. Finding peace in an otherwise crazy situation. Making plans. Breaking plans. Dealing with separation. Finding new hobbies, new friends. Rediscovering old relationships. Moving on. Caring more deeply than I thought I could. You know how it is, it’s just life. Anyway, my revelation.

The circle of life is somewhat deceiving, at least to me. I believe that we are all connected and I believe in action/reaction or cause/effect theories, but there is a slight difference in how I choose to live my life. The circle of life suggests a sort of fatality, a predetermined destiny. Once you find your place in this world, you do your thing and that’s that. The rest will fall into place around you, in the “circle.” You’re kind of moved along in the rotation.

Not me. I make my own destiny. My life is more of an octagon or a trapezoid even, with a huge diagonal line down the center, just in case I want to go from Point D to Point A and I don’t have a lot of time. I can eat tofu if I want to (not likely, but just making a point). I can choose not to have children and that could be ok. I can cancel all my plans and risk my job if that meant taking care of someone I love. I can be a really good person… and yet not believe in a particular religion. I can order an extra greasy burger and fries, with a diet coke on the side. I can take off for the weekend with no real agenda. Or I can carefully plan a single evening. I can paint a wall in my bedroom fluorescent green if I wanted to… not that I would of course.

The point? I think I finally realized, in a really conscious way, that life is not about falling into “the circle.” It’s about enjoying whatever shape you make it out to be. And it was at that exact moment when I decided to become a geometry teacher.

Freaky Yogurt Loaf People

Tuesday morning. The sun was shining, about 45 degrees and slowly climbing to the predicted 70 for the day. I was strutting my shades and feeling “all cool ‘n shit.” People were generally happy, taking more time than usual on the walk to work given the beautiful weather. Things were looking up, and I was feeling chill. I decided to stop in my favorite coffee shop for my signature “tall regular coffee.” Start the day off right.

The people in this place know me well. I frequently stop there for the aforementioned regular coffee, and often add on a “yogurt loaf” to my order. For background, the yogurt loaf is a miracle of modern baking technology. It’s about 5 x 4 x 2 inches, individually wrapped in plastic wrap, and is surprisingly 97% fat free. You can get the marble flavor, lemon, or, my fave, cappuccino chocolate chip. Full of sugar, granted, but whatever, it’s good.

Anyway, I had already had breakfast, so I just ordered the coffee. As I’m paying, I glance over to where the basket of yogurt loaves usually sits on the counter, hoping I wouldn’t be tempted to get one (I’m trying to avoid the double breakfast). There was no basket, so I casually say to the friendly girl at the register, “What? No yogurt loaves anymore?” to which chaos quickly ensued.

As if I just fired a preemptive gunshot from the front lines, the workers in the coffee shop quickly sprung to attention. There were four of them, apparently previously hiding under the counter, I’m really not sure. It’s kind of blurry. The girl at the register started pacing back and forth and the other three ran to the back to search for the yogurt loaves. I tried to stop them by yelling an original, “Stop!” No one seemed to hear me, they were so determined. It was seriously insane. It was only 8:00 a.m., and I was confused.

The only way to actually bring to an end to the great crusade for the yogurt loaf was to literally scream, with my hands actually up in the air in “stop” positions, “Please stop! Not today! I don’t want the yogurt loaf today! Thank you so much, but I was just asking! NOT TODAY!!! STOP!!!”

Register girl finally stopped pacing and heard me. Because I already had my change from the coffee purchase, I just snuck out. There was nothing else I could do. A few of them were still scurrying about trying to find a piece of yogurt loaf. I hope they found one, for their sakes. I just laughed the rest of my way to work…

http://bkfoods.com/loaves.html

PS: A shout out to Uncommon Grounds, the Georgetown coffee shop, who sold yogurt muffins (very similar product) when I went to school there. I’m not sure if they sell them, but that’s what got me hooked. Little did I know that when you start to work downtown, muffins morph into loaves, and loaves produce irrational obsessive behaviors, but it’s all good.

Not funny, yet I laugh

If one more person sends me this Easter bunny rap thing, I might do something drastic. I have received this forward from several people over the last few days, and, every time, I think, yay, a personal email. And then, almost inevitably, it's the god damn bunny rap.

I can only describe it like an accident on the side of a highway. You know it's bad, but you can't stop looking. Oh, and there's a freaky bunny rapper singing on your radio too.

Check it out. I guess it could be somewhat entertaining, if the bunny was actually cute, and not the size of a horse. However, I have to admit, it makes me laugh. So keep 'em coming! You know you want to send it to me... you know you do.

http://i.flowgo.com/greetings/rapeasterbunny/rapeasterbunny.swf