Every now and again the coffee gods smile. And they smiled in a big way tonight. I stumbled onto something. Something so secret that you apparently had to sacrifice a pair of Payless to get in.
Some sort of women's club seems to be meeting at the Starbucks I choose to visit. Let's call it Coffee & Cramps - and no, I can't take the credit for that one.
Let's describe these women, shall we? Young ... "professionals" - and that is a kind, kind word. Some of these girls need lots of help. Lots of help. Hair, clothes, makeup, total body makeovers. Total personality makeovers. They're all dumb as dirt and about as interesting.
Well. Mud is interesting. I spent the better part of my youth making mud pies. My grandmother used to sigh with despair and make me strip off and would wash me down with the hose after a "mud-people" session in the fields behind her house. Childhood. Although to be honest, the closest these girls get to mud is the knockoff Elizabeth Arden mud-mask.
Frau Zebra, as I shall call her, is wearing something in aquamarine, with zebra trim around the collar and extending around the full length of her jacket. The zebra trim clashes violently with whatever light blue shade was chosen for the coat. Obviously, whatever blind Albanian created this faux Prada knockoff of a knockoff (it looked like a K-Mart knockoff of a JC Penney brand something) knew nothing about fashion. Frau Zebra has chosen to complete the ensemble with cork zebra wedges that are a good three inches high. Yes. The wedges were zebra stripes. Please note that none of this is helped by the fact that she's barely five and a half feet tall and must be tipping the scales at close to 200 pounds.
There's Lady Leprechaun. She's tall and willowy and chooses to dress like a tree. Something floppy and shredded that hangs about her shoulders. Seriously. Her shoulders look like they were attacked by Edward Scissorhands in the throes of a grand mal seizure. And the thing started life as a Wal-Mart blouse to begin with. Aww. She's wearing white Keds. How cute.
There's HONGRY! Think of the hippos from "Hungry, Hungry Hippos. That's her. I can't quite describe what she's wearing. It is very " ... brown?" No. the more I look, it seems to be a green leaf pattern. Huh. Camouflage. She's very loud, as in she's a screamer. The very first thing she said when she sat down was "I'M HUNGRY. DOES THIS PLACE SERVE FOOD?"
No darling. They just open up a fire hose of frappuccino and squirt it in your mouth. Back to her fashion. Well, I guess you could charitably call it a "peasant blouse." Or three peasant blouses. There's enough fabric there for a Christo project. Picture a jungle floor. Shades of dappled green and brown, with the sunlight shining serenely down through the trees and patterns of light and shadow dappling the jungle floor. Perhaps a few flowers. And now run a herd of wild pigs over it. That's her top. And she's wearing a battered pair of canvas shoes. Not in that ironic hippie way. And you could put a three-year-old child - or a full turkey dinner - in her bag. It is an enormous Wal-Mart sack version with no style whatsoever. It is also the color of baby poo.
There's Skanky, who was the first to arrive. She's dressed for the road - the side of the road that is. Six-inch stripper heels. She doesn't stay long as it turns out. She must have sized up the gathering and realized they these girls were a bit too "refined" for her. Or liable to blame her for stealing their husbands, boyfriends or possibly fathers.
Then there's Gladiatrix. She rolled in late, wearing something that would literally shatter that Vogue lady, what's her name, Anna Wintour. Completely shatter her. Gladiator sandals. A funky off-blue stone-washed denim skirt that BARELY covered her plentiful bum and a plain white tee top. And then a denim jacket in a completely different shade of blue. NEVER MIX YOUR DENIMS. It is like mixing blacks. It just looks WRONG.
These shoes were REALLY something to see. It looked like a dominatrix had gone to town on her toes. Seriously. With leather. To top it off, she had on sparkly gold toenail polish. And a gold toe ring.
There's one normal girl. She's wearing a Banana Republic long-sleeve button down and a nice pair of blue jeans. Wonder what's going on inside her head?
What are they talking about?
"Women problems." Isn't that enough?
HONGRY!, aside from immediately launching into a dissertation on her favorite coffee shop food and discussing why she didn't like Starbucks because they DO NOT serve food like OTHER coffee shops. No darling, you don't want a coffee shop, you want a CAFE that serves COFFEE. See?
HONGRY! was walking about her medical issues. Apparently, she and her man are trying to get the pregnant, because they want to inflict the howler monkey genes upon the rest of the planet. But Hongry can't get pregnant because she has bad hormones. So Hongry has been going to the doctor twice a week for the past six months. Apparently, the doctor has told her to start exercising as well. Doesn't seem to have been working.
First up was softball. Funny, these girls don't look like the "softball" type. They all look very soft, very lipsticky, even "HONGRY." They complain a lot. Banana Republic pulled her shoulder playing softball with her boyfriend. Figures she'd be the one still with a boyfriend.
We've moved on to social networking. Oh. Maybe not. Banana Republic's boyfriend got in trouble for not "logging out" on some sort of work program. I can't follow this conversation at all. The music in here isn't any better and it is too damn loud. DON'T THEY KNOW.
OH. OH. OH. Apparently, Banana Republic's boyfriend thought he was sending some private emails and he was sending it on the company account. And he was talking to one of his man friends and calling some TV girl "Delicious" or something. Well. That'll get you fired. Real fast.
C'mon. I want to hear something juicy. They're just playing with their coffee cups.
Apparently Lady Leprechaun has traveled. She's been to Amsterdam, because she graces the table with the fact that "In Amsterdam, they eat their French fries with mayonnaise." This fact gets a big laugh, and then she has to explain that they eat fries out of a bag. No. Really. They do it in England to. And THEY CALL THEM CHIPS. IT IS A DELICACY. And they put malt liquor on it. Oh my stars. Do they not watch TV? Or read a paper? Venturing into Africa (any part of the continent), India or China would shatter their brains.
Frau Zebra hasn't said a word. She just sort of looks at girls when they talk, sort of like a tennis match. She has big eyes. Blonde hair. I just noticed that it is a bleach job though. Either that, or she's trying for that early '90s "Friends" look that Jennifer Aniston patented, where you had two different strands of color on either side of your face. She's blonde all over and two dark strands right there.
All these women have gigantic purses. I thought small purses were back? These purses are literally huge - I mean, they're the size of my laptop bag.
Banana Republic says that she worked at a rental company. Ohhh. People allegedly want furnished houses now. Because of the foreclosures. That was .... uninteresting. For girl talk, this is quite the NOT fascinating time. Maybe I'm just missing every third word or something. Sorry. Drifted off. They're talking about some apartment Banana Republic rented to a client or something. There's a bunch of women getting together and they're talking about a rented apartment. Not who's doing what in a rented apartment, but the fact that this rented apartment has a nice view of a retention pond. Boy. These girls have some fascinating lives.
Oh. I forgot #7. Let's call her Goldie, because every time I look at her, I get the glint of fake bling from her neck, her ears, her bracelet and her rings. Seriously. And her hair. She's probably going to give either Lady Gaga or Christina Aguilera a run for her money in the "bleach my scalp" sweepstakes.
BREAKING! BREAKING! BREAKING!
HONGRY! lasted 67 minutes before breaking down and going back for seconds. She's eating a very large wedge of cake and sucking on a juice box.
Frau Zebra is gone. The lions of the Serengheti have claimed her. She had 15 years (and that was being kind) on these girls.
It just hit me. Every one of these girls, with the exception of HONGRY!, is blonde. No wonder the conversation is pale. There's literally nothing between their ears.
FINALLY! We get to half-way interesting stuff. Pee and poop.
HONGRY! apparently already has one kid. Who isn't toilet trained. No. Wait. It is a dog. So hard to tell. But I distinctly heard her say "pad." Kids don't use "pads" do they, only dogs?
So. Apparently, she's been trying to toilet train the dog, but it won't go outside. No. It is a CAT. And she is trying to TRAIN THE CAT TO GO IN THE TOILET.
OK. I've heard that that is possible. But wow.
Ok. I think I got this all sorted out.
1. HONGRY! has a cat.
2. HONGRY! is trying to toilet-train the cat to go in the toilet instead of the litter box.
3. HONGRY!'s cat is resisting going into the toilet.
4. HONGRY!'s cat is fighting back by making little kitty tinkles all over her apartment. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
5. HONGRY! caught the cat making a little kitty tinkle somewhere in the bedroom and tried to punish it, and the cat attacked her. Well, what the hell did she expect, interrupting a cat in mid-tinkle?
*SIGH* HONGRY! is back to talking about her bloodwork. Oh.
Oh. Thank you. No. Shredded Shoulders Leprechaun has diarrhea. I really didn't need to hear that.
And now down the rabbit hole we go. Women problems. This is the phrase of the night "IF YOU'RE BLEEDING DON'T TELL ME." Well. Apparently Banana Republic's man has to constantly remind her of that, because she's wont to talk about her "feminine issues."
You can't top that.
HONGRY! just mimed swinging a feminine product around like a lasso. I can't believe that I typed that sentence. I really need to stop typing. And they've moved on, quickly, thank you.
Visitors, from Chicago, and where to take them.
I drifted off there for a while. They were checking their phones. I checked mine. I got bored. They are boring.
Oh. I came in on the end of something. Let me try to reconstruct it.
HONGRY! was holding court on her favorite topic. Food, of course. She gives a SERMON on free-range turkey. Apparently, she serves nothing but free-range and organic at her house. The way she eats, her food bill must be gigantic if she only eats certified organic. I can drop $75 at Whole Foods and not cover the bottom of one of those buggies. Heck. I can drop that and get two wedges of cheese, a box of barbecue from the takeout bar and a cupcake. That's $75. It has happened.
Now they're planning the next little "Coffee & Cramps" event. Hopefully, the next one will not involve the Wonder Woman impression with a pretend tampon. They want to make name tags.
Oh. Oh. Oh. These heifers are talking about not wearing "cheap jewelry" and "cheap makeup."
PUH-LEEZE.
HONGRY! is talking about some sort of lotion that you have to wash and apply every day? Not sure what's going on there. I thought that all makeup was "take it off at night?" Not that I know makeup. Seriously.
They do all have good complexions, even if they all DESPERATELY, DESPERATELY need someone to take their hair in hand. I MEAN THAT WITH ALL SERIOUSNESS LADIES.
A good hot oil treatment is your friend.
SHAMPOO ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH. These girls, their hair looks rough. Every one of them. The economy has obviously been hitting them hard, because they've been skimping on the hairdresser and trying to do it at home. And they're not even buying the good hair care products. You can always tell. OH MY GOD. I'M PRESCIENT. Banana Republic just mentioned "I get my hair cut at SuperCuts."
Now Sparkles is telling the other girls where she goes. None of them have what you'd call a "stylist." Well, obviously. Sparkles "has a guy" in Cape Coral. She has a nice cut, but her hair is like Sahara dry. Gladiator Sandals - and I'm staring right at the back of her head - needs to first wash her hair and then do something with her roots and split ends. Leprechaun has bleached hers into submission, but it is fighting back - and the mousy brown is winning.
Two super-skinny fashion model types just clicked in wearing skinny jeans and some BANGING shoes. (Charlotte Russe, I asked!) Everyone one of these girls turned and stared, with those jealous/disapproving looks that said "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING TRASHY AND TRYING TO STEAL OUR MEN?" and "WHY CAN'T I LOOK THAT GOOD AGAIN?"
Because you girls sacrificed your size zeros for sorority girl parties, Miller Lite at frat parties and then children, Spaghetti-O's and margaritas. Not to mention you all have frappuccinos in front of you. And despite the fact that you don't have decent hair, you are all probably wearing more money than these girls make in a month. Seriously. Unless they REALLY ARE hookers, then all bets are off.
OK. The Coffee & Cramps Club is breaking up.
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