If you're happy and you're toothless, go to Starbucks!

I could go on and on with one of my usual rants about old people, hipsters and the soul-crushing stupidity of some of the soul-less corporate yuppie ding-dongs that peruse the pastry case at Starbucks. I won't. I'll constrain myself to just the toothless set.

I'm waiting, *patiently* behind a toothless old codger in a windbreaker with socks up to his knees and pants up to his nipples. He is trying to order a coffee, JUST A PLAIN COFFEE, which he screams, because he's half deaf. I have an ear infection at the moment and I could have heard him down the block, over traffic, with my headphones on, blaring Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance." Just so everyone knows, I could really use a bad romance right about now.

The concept of tall, grande and venti is lost on this old man. I really don't understand why they come into Starbucks if they don't already understand the sizes. Is it such a foreign concept? I will continue to whinge upon that until someone beats the concept of learning about stores before you walk up to the register and start blabbering into the idiot customers of America.

The barista, who happens to be Little Apron Aaron, asks him "room for cream," which I really, really wish every barista would do, because I get so cranky seeing people pour perfectly good coffee down the trash simply because they do not have the ability to verbalize their needs. "Room for cream" results in another round of shouting, because Mr. Windbreaker Socks de Nipples from Michigan won't spring for a hearing aid.

Then, we come to the great pastry case debate of 2009.

Mr. Windbreaker Socks de Nipples wants a pastry. I'm going to type everything he said in ALL CAPS, because he was screaming. "WHAT ARE THEM THINGS? SCONES?"

Little Apron Aaron winces, then goes "We've got cake, cookies, donuts and scones. Can you point?" "THEM THINGS RIGHT THERE, WITH THE BLUE BERRY THINGS." Yes, there was a definite space between blue and berry.

"OK. One blueberry scone. Anything else?" "NO THAT'S ALL!" He pays and Little Apron Aaron goes to get the pastry. "Do you want it on a plate or to go? "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" "Are you going to eat it here?" "NO. DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M GOING TO EAT IT HERE? JUST PUT IN A SACK!"

Little Apron Aaron moves to get a scone. "NOT THAT ONE. I DON'T WANT THAT ONE. I WANT THE ONE IN THE FRONT." I can't hear the sigh, but I know it is there. He moves the tongs and there's another screech, one that would singe metal and curl the hair of strongmen half a mile away. "NO, WAIT, I DON'T WANT THAT ONE. GIVE ME THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE. IT HAS BIGGER BLUEBERRIES."

Because that's what life is all about. Bigger blueberries. There's a joke there, I just won't make it.