When your wedding is more popular than you are.

I have been a wordpress blogger since September of 2011. Since then, I have had a total of 722 views. It’s safe to assume that at least 100 of these views have been from my mom.

On April 29th of this year, I told a certain young man that I would marry him. I was telling the truth. Several days later I built a wedding website, courtesy of theknot.com.

As of today, that website has had 825 views.

The conclusion? My upcoming wedding is more popular than I am.

As an aspiring writer, I am enormously offended. Just because a handsome and talented young man puts a gloriously radiant ring on my finger, suddenly I am interesting, witty, and charming.

I have always been interesting, witty, and charming.

Perhaps not. More like snarky, biting, and abrasive. In my defense, people seem to like that. That’s why the reanimated corpse of Joan Rivers has her own show on the E! Channel.

So why this sudden surge of popularity? There are several possibilities.

1) People are assuming it will be outrageously tacky and they are pumped to have a good laugh over it. If that is the case, I’m uninviting everyone ever.

2) People think it is a joke and that any day we’ll pull a great big “SIKE!” If this is the case….I’m indignant.

3) People have heard me talk about my “Beyonce sang at my wedding” dream so much that they think it’s real. Well, as of yet, Beyonce has yet to respond to any of my letters, facebook messages, emails, telegrams, tweets, carrier pigeons, or smoke signals. But if anything changes, I’ll let you guys know.

But really, the only obvious answer is that I am marrying the coolest person on earth.

Seriously, the guy that I get to marry (I’m purposely not using his name to appear more mysterious, though I’m pretty sure most of my readership knows him in real life) is the nicest person ever. People love him. He can talk to anyone, and they feel like he really cares about what they have to say, because he does. There’s no phoniness about him at all.

He loves helping people. Helping them move things, helping them do yard work, helping them find jobs.

He makes people and his relationships with them a priority.

He is easy going, kind, funny, fun loving. He is eternally optimistic, one of the things I love most about him.

He is wildly creative and he loves sharing that with people.

He’s the coolest person ever and I couldn’t be happier with anyone on earth, not even Zac Efron. (I can’t believe I said that but it’s true!!)

So if I’m cooler by association because I’m with the most over-the-moon incredible guy, I am perfectly fine with that.

But I would like for all of you to subscribe to my blog. Just sayin’.

PS: Here’s the link to the wedding website. http://SmolenParker.ourwedding.com

PPS: I realize this is a little more sappy than my usual stuff. Cut me some slack! I’m in love!

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The Temple of Mac

My dad has an iPad. An original iPad. So it’s basically a stone tablet, not unlike the ones on which Moses carved the Ten Commandments. The only difference between my dad’s iPad and Moses’ Ten Commandments iPad is that when my dad smote his upon the earth, it was an accident, not a rage.

And since we are in the midst of Wedding Prep 2012 (Congrats to Paul and Morgan!), it was tasked to me to see to its mending.

I had to make the pilgrimage to the Apple Store. Or as I now call it, The Temple of Mac.

There is only one Apple Store in the Omaha Metro area and naturally it resides on the snooty patootie side of town. Last Monday afternoon I hopped into my 1990 Honda Accord and made the trek out there. Village Pointe is a fairly high end outdoor shopping mall overpopulated by Red Hat Society ladies, unnaturally tanned teenagers, and moms with strollers as big as smart cars. Needless to say, I was a bit out of place.

Having only ever been to the Apple Store to browse, I entered the temple gates clutching my damaged iPad in my arms, looking disheveled and aimless. A charming young lady with a face peppered in adorable freckles called out to me. I hurried to her like a lost puppy.

The following may or may not be dramatized, embellished, or slightly distorted.

Freckled Mac Store Employee: “Hi! Welcome to the Temple of Mac! How have you come to worship today?”

Me: (holding up the iPad)”……This is broken.”

Freckled Mac Store Employee: “How unusual! Our products are so fabulous that they never break for inexplicable reasons! You’re in luck though, we have excellent customer service that should fix that in a jiffy! Do you have an appointment?”

Me: “………No…..I just wanted to see if someone could look at it really quickly and see if it’s even fixable.”

Freckled Mac Store Employee: “Well you betcha! Unfortunately our Genius drones are all booked up, so YOU’LL NEED AN APPOINTMENT.” (Those last four words were spoken in the same voice that giant eye on Mount Doom uses when he’s trying to scare Frodo in his dreams.)

Me: “…..so….there’s no one who can check this out really quick?”

Now the Freckled Mac Store Employee is giving me an appraising once-over. She not-so-discreetly sniffs the air. Immediately, I am filled with feelings of insecurity and shame. What witchcraft is this?

Freckled Mac Store Employee: “We’ll just set you up with an appointment and then you can busy yourself on one of our beautiful, fully-functioning Macs. The newest upgrades read your mind and clean your teeth while you surf the web.”

Me: “Oh, I’m a PC user.”

Freckled Mac Store Employee begins slowly stepping away from me as if I have the black plague.

Freckled Mac Store Employee: (now somewhat uneasy) “We have a special lounge for PC losers…users, excuse me. Armando will escort you there.” And then she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

At the same time, “Armando” appear at my side. Armando was about the size of a baby elephant, if that baby elephant had served time in the State Pen and could clean a machine gun hanging upside down and blindfolded. He grunted in the direction of the “PC loser lounge”.

Which is where I spent the remainder of my time at the Apple Store. The PC loser “lounge” was a dingy corner of the stock room, with a chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Something was constantly dripping, but neither I nor the other PC losers could find the source. The Mac Employees kindly laid out a dish of water and some kibble for us, along with some newspapers from 1976 in case we needed to relieve ourselves. After a few hours of confinement, in which I had traded some chocolate that I found in my purse for a harmonica and subsequently learned to play the blues, a Mac Employee, amidst boos and hisses from the rest of us, extracted the iPad using an extendable arm. He returned shortly, declaring the battery to have died, and offered to replace the iPad for $100 and a promise that I would never return to the store again. I was then escorted out of the store by Armando, but I had to wear a burlap bag over my head and endure the jests and taunts of the happy, clean, Mac using customers.

I’ll be in therapy for about 6 years. Just in time for the iPad 87 to come out.

Stuff Christian Girls Say

Christian girls speak their own dialect of English. Who really knows what “Where’s my Boaz?” means other than Christian girls? They make so many obscure Biblical references that even hipsters don’t know what they’re talking about.

“I want to be an Esther!”

Translation: I want the cute, popular guy to notice my humble beauty.

“Where’s my Solomon to tempt me with apples and figs in the vineyard of our marriage?”

Translation: Girl, I need to get married NOW.

“Watch out for the Gomer.”

Translation: That hussy’s shirt is way too low-cut. Lock up your man.

But my favorite thing Christian girls say is this one: “I’m dating Jesus.”

This is probably the single most confusing thing that is said in youth groups and Bible colleges across the country. More confusing than the debate between God’s sovereignty and free will, pre-trib and post-trib rapture, and whether or not Adam and Eve had belly buttons.

Ladies, let’s be honest: Jesus is out of your league.

Dating Jesus is like being on The Bachelor, minus the hot tubs.

I once overheard a guy say, “I don’t know how Jesus has time to listen to my prayers when He’s too busy dating  every girl at Bible college.”

Why do Christian girls think they can get away with the Jesus excuse? 9 out of 10 times it backfires on them. Here’s the deal, when you say “I’m dating Jesus” or “I really need to focus on my relationship with Jesus right now” what a guy hears is “I’m super holy, thus making me an ideal wife candidate, and even though I’m dating Jesus now, I won’t always be, so you should try harder.” The Jesus excuse only prolongs the inevitable, painful, awkward “let’s be friends” talk. And even that conversation is filled with so much ambiguity that it takes hours for the message to get across.

What do I suggest? Just be honest and straightforward: “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested in you.” Simple. Sure, it sounds terrible, but it’s kind of like pulling a tooth. It’ll hurt, but if you leave it in there, it’s only going to hurt more.

#BOOM

The girls are going to be so encouraged.

The Trials and Tribulations of Dating a Musician

Every girl secretly dreams of dating a musician.

Shakespeare said, “If music be the food of love, play on.”

How many times have women listened to songs like “Jesse’s Girl”, “Sweet Caroline”, or “Hey There Delilah” and longed to be the inspiration, the girl standing in the wings backstage, exchanging stolen glances with her musician while he plays to thousands of screaming fans and reveling in the knowledge that they knew his true artist’s soul? *SIGH* Butterflies. It’s the stuff of dreams.

I’m here to blow the lid off that fantasy.

There are hazards to dating a musician. I’m talking about more than just the constant threat of some fast-and-loose groupie trying to scoop your man in a frenzied backstage moment. There are very real, physical, mental, and emotional hazards that every women should take into account before getting involved with a musician. And as different as Beethoven’s 5th symphony is from “Stairway to Heaven”, so are the hazards of dating a drummer over a guitarist, a bassist over a songwriter, a tambourine shaker over a keyboardist. I’ve compiled a helpful guide.

If you’re dating a drummer: BEWARE! You’re in the most physical danger. You are not just the drummer’s girlfriend; you are a piece of percussion equipment. Your drummer may discover he loves the sound of his fingertips slapping out a sweet beat on your upper arm, stomach, or head. Protective gear may sound like a good idea, but it will only increase your man’s desire to drum on you. Additionally, you and your man will experience some issues with communication, because you will never be heard the first time, due to extensive inner ear damage. Be prepared to repeat yourself. And work on your enunciation.

If you’re dating a bassist: I hope you’re a good actress, because let’s be honest; it’s hard to be enthusiastic about bass lines. buuuuhhhhhm……buhbuhbuh…..buuuuuhhhhmmmm……..buhbuhbuhbuhbuh…..“Don’t you love it?…..”That’s so awesome, baby! Your part is the best part of the song! It really fills out the sound!”

If you’re dating a singer/songwriter: Brace yourself for an emotional roller coaster. He’s been quiet and pensive all day, staring off into the distance, barely responding to anything you say. He turns to you with anguish in his eyes. You’re expecting those four dreaded words, “We need to talk”, but the four words that come out of his mouth instead are: “Nothing rhymes with ‘orange'”.  Your man’s happiness depends on his ability to melodically express his thoughts, while rhyming and appearing clever. It’s best to carry a pocket thesaurus in your purse.

Obviously this is not a comprehensive list. These are simply a few observations I have made in recent months and I felt it my duty as a woman to offer fair warning to other women, lest you find yourself the inspiration of a chart topping breakup song. God speed to you all in your quest for musically enriched romance.

It sucks to be the smallest friend.

We all have that friend who hit their short-lived growth spurt around 7th or 8th grade and then simply…stopped growing. Everyone else caught up around 9th grade, and by 10th grade had significantly surpassed the early growth sputter by several noticeable inches. Then the comments began:

“Why are you so short?”

“Why are your pants so long?”

“Why can’t you reach this?”

I am that friend. I sprouted to a respectable 5’3″ by 8th grade. Then I stopped growing. I didn’t think of myself as short until I got to high school and some dim-witted, insensitive, mouth-breathing boy said those two fateful words: “You’re short.”

Suddenly it was as if the wool had been removed from my peers’ eyes, like this mouth-breather had discovered gravity or something.

“Ha ha, you’re short!”

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.

Being short wasn’t too bad…until I started noticing some trends, trends that have permeated into my college and adult life. I present to you:

Reasons it Sucks to be the Smallest Friend

1) You always have to ride “the hump”.
Five friends traveling together in a mid-size sedan? You’re definitely not riding shot-gun. No, dear travel-sized one, you get to occupy the 18 inch space between the back passenger seats, which coincidentally offers about 18 inches of leg room as well. You do your best to make a case for riding anywhere else (“I’m claustrophobic,” “I get car sick easily”, “I’m allergic to the middle seat”.) but one look at everyone’s long, gangly legs tells you you’re fighting a losing battle. Your only hope is that the group is traveling with a guy who is desperately in love with one of your friends, and he gallantly volunteers to ride “the hump” in a thinly veiled attempt to sit close to the object of his affections.

2) All of your friends think it’s hilarious to toss you around like a rag doll.
As the tiniest friend, you’re constantly trying to have an arsenal of activities in mind, because you know the minute boredom sets in, everyone resorts to their favorite game, “Friend Toss”.

“Hey guys, check it out, look how easily I can toss Sarah over this fence.”

“Oh cool, let me try when you’re done.”

It starts to get tedious around the third person, and then it gets awkward when your weakest friend tries to lift you and you go from the tiniest friend to Fatty McFatterson in about 3 seconds.

3) Your friends think it’s funny to take your things and put them somewhere high out of reach.
This game is the alternative to “Sarah Toss” when you’re in a setting in which it is inappropriate to toss your friend around (when is it EVER appropriate to toss an adult woman around like a playground ball? WHEN?? I have a degree!!!). These settings include weddings, funerals, middle school choir concerts, and before church services, but never after. Typically, your tallest friend will take your cell phone/purse/journal/coffee/coin collection and place it on top of a vending machine, book case, or even in the ceiling tiles. Then everyone has a great big jolly laugh while you struggle in vain to retrieve your possessions, or in an attempt to retain your dignity, you simply look at everyone with disdain until someone gets hungry and suggests going to Village Inn for some pie.

4) Your friends try to take advantage of your tiny hands to scam vending machines.
Typically, your tall friends eat about 3 1/2 times more than you and about 5 times as often as you do. Therefore, they are bottomless pits of hunger, constantly in “forage” mode. So if you stroll by a vending machine, and they spot a bag on Funions dangling precariously from a ledge, they are going to ask you to try to slip your tiny hands inside and get it for them.

IT’S 75 CENTS. YOU ARE A GROWN MAN. PAY FOR THE FUNIONS LIKE A REAL ADULT.

Seriously. We’re not in high school anymore.

To Tell or Not to Tell: The Santa Claus Dilemma

I recently found myself in a heated discussion with a friend who shall not be named (No, I’m not friends with Lord Voldemort.) over the Santa Claus issue. After hours of door slamming, foot stomping, outrageous accusing, and buckets of tears flowing, I finally had to admit that he was right, and Santa Clause does not actually exist.

Let’s pause for a moment, because the wound is still healing.

Okay, I haven’t believed in Santa since I was like, 7 or 8 or 17, or something like that. That was not the debate. The debate was: will you tell your children (should the Lord so will you to have children) about Santa Claus?

My thoughts were: sure, why not?

My nameless friend’s thoughts were quite different.

There has been much debate over whether or not Christian parents should raise their children allowing them to believe in Santa Claus. After all, we’re not celebrating the birth of Santa Claus or the birth of presents or evergreen trees or magical reindeer. Jesus really is the reason for the season (if that’s not too cliche).

Personally, I don’t believe children will grow up to be materialistic atheists if they’re allowed to believe in Santa. I also don’t believe they will grow up to be uncreative imagineless drones if they’re raised not to believe in Santa. I’m not really sure where I stand on the issue, but there are some Christmas traditions that I will be incorporating into the lives of my children, should the day come when I will reproduce.

#1) The Grinch- I know he’s supposed to be just a character in a story, but so is Santa. Even if my kids don’t believe in Santa, they will believe in the Grinch, and they will be on their best behavior lest he slither into the house at night and steal Christmas. I may even stage some fake Grinch sightings just to cement the idea in their brains.

#2) Feats of Strength- This is a Festivus tradition, but I firmly believe that everyone, no matter how old, should be able to arm wrestle their father.

#3) The Pink Nightmare- I will insist that my children wear hideous pajamas on Christmas Eve. The more plaid, the better. I don’t care if they’re all teenagers, they will wear hideous pajamas, they will pose for pictures in  front of the Christmas tree, and they will love it.

My kids will probably need therapy.

Merry Christmas!

PS: Treat yourself to some musical magic courtesy of my Santa-hating friend. 🙂

Lessons they didn’t teach you in Sunday School

If you were raised in church, you probably spent about an hour and half every Sunday morning learning important life lessons from a woman with glasses too big for her face, feathered bangs, and an ankle length denim jumper. She taught you important lessons like don’t fight with your brothers and sisters because one of you might end up dead (Cain and Abel), obey your parents even if they are trying to sacrifice you on a mountain because there’s probably a good reason for it (Abraham and Isaac), and listen to Jesus instead of cleaning your room (Mary and Martha). We also learned important trades like glueing macaroni to paper plates, making homemade Christmas ornaments, and using so much finger paint that it would inevitably end up all over Mom’s dress and she’d still have to be happy about it.

However, as I have grown up, I can’t help but think that we missed out on some important life lessons. I have taken to liberty to compile a list.

  1.       Samson and Delilah- Lesson learned: don’t let your friends cut your hair. They don’t know what they’re doing and are probably working undercover for the Philistines anyway.
  2.     Eve and the Serpent, and Balaam and his…..donkey- Lesson learned: if animals are talking to you, you’re in trouble. Don’t buy into C.S. Lewis’ nonsense.
  3. Joseph and his brothers- Lesson learned- be nice to your irritating younger siblings, just in case they grow up to be more successful than you.
  4. David and Goliath- Lesson learned- sometimes, throwing rocks is a good thing.
  5. Rachel and Leah- Lesson learned- don’t steal your sister’s man.

Personally, I feel as if I have been totally unprepared for my adult life because I missed out on these lessons. I can stitch a mean macaroni wallet though.

Being a Godly Woman: A look beyond Proverbs 31

I have to be honest. I used to loathe reading Proverbs 31. Every retreat, conference, women’s Bible study, and coffee shop gathering of more than 3 women would reference this passage as the end all to the discussion of godly womanliness.

 “Oh you want to be a godly woman? Just read Proverbs 31, it’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

 Really? EVERYTHING?

 In all truthfulness, this passage terrified me. Throughout my teenage and early college years, every time I read this passage my mind conjured up a mental image of this Swedish milkmaid with huge biceps and a Princess Leah hairstyle churning butter in a log cabin while a herd of abnormally large toddlers ran amok in nothing but homespun cloth diapers. This may be appealing for some, but if this was the expectations of a godly woman, I was a failure from the start. (You see I have flimsy arms, pathetic for churning butter.) So I avoided Proverbs 31 for some time.

 I had a pretty distorted idea of the passage. It wasn’t until later, after some maturity and the wisdom of those much smarter than me began to take root in my tiny brain that I realized this Proverbs 31 woman is pretty stinkin’ awesome. To quote the beloved Elizabeth Bennett, “She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold.”

 But is that our only source of godly women? Of course not, don’t be silly.

 Here are some tips on being a godly woman, straight out of the OT. (That’s Old Testament, for those of you who carry those New Testament only Bibles.)

 1)      Cultivate your cooking skills- When the Jewish people were in danger of being wiped off the map, what did Queen Esther do? Cooked a fancy meal and saved her people. When David was about to whip the what-what out of Nabal for refusing to help his shepherds, what did Abigail do? Loaded up her donkeys with goodies and saved Nabal’s stingy butt. (Granted, God struck Nabal down later, but God does what He wants.) Ladies, when a man’s wrath is evoked, he’s probably just hungry. Cooking skills will save your life, and possibly an entire nation of people.

2)      Sistas before Mistas- Ladies, you gotta watch out for each other. The best example? Ruth. When she, Orpah, and her mother-in-law, Naomi, were left widows, instead of peacing out to bag another man like Orpah, Ruth stuck with Naomi. Her faithfulness and devotion to Naomi, along with her humble demeanor led her to be called a “virtuous woman” and she caught the eye of a rich farmer named Boaz and ended up in the genealogy of Christ.

3)      Help a brother out- Rebekah had compassion on the servant of Abraham and watered him and his camels. Had that been me, I probably would have said “Back off creeper.” Clearly, Rebekah was much kinder than I am. Not only did she have compassion but she also welcomed them into her father’s home and demonstrated her trust when she agreed to be married to a man she never met. One of her sons was named Jacob, and later called Israel.

4)      Mi casa es su casa- Rahab was a prostitute. There’s no getting around it. However, despite her less than desirable line of work, she was one of the most courageous and hospitable women in the Bible. Even though she had never encountered Israel’s God, she believed in Him enough to defy her city’s king and hide the Israelite spies. Her story paints the picture of salvation by grace through faith and of a woman who didn’t allow her circumstances to hold her back.

 Now, at this point you might be experiencing a little cognitive dissonance. (That’s a teacher word for “confused”.) You might be saying, “Sarah, wasn’t your last post about avoiding marriage? All of these women ended up married! CONFUSION.”

 Let me be clear: This is not the magic formula to ending singleness. Looking past the obvious, we find that these women risked a lot to honor God; safety, comfort, pride, to name a few. But after all was said and done, God granted them the desires that are at the heart of every woman: protection and security. In the cultural context of these women, that meant marriage. In the United States in 2011, it might mean something else. That’s for you and God to figure out.

What are some other Biblical examples of godly women?

How I made it out of Bible College without an M.R.S. Degree

Recently, I accomplished something quite amazing. Something that very few women have accomplished, despite courageous attempts and valiant efforts. It’s not something you hear about very often, and in my strains to remain humble I have not broadcasted this achievement, but I am broadcasting it now, not to throw myself into the spotlight, but to give hope and encouragement to those who will pick up the noble cause of my quest.

Five years ago, I went to Bible college. And on my first day, as I went through the arduous registration process, figuring out my classes, finding my dorm room, getting over the shock of how small and shabby it was, fending off the badger that had taken up residence in my closet over the summer, meeting my room mate and introducing her to our new pet badger, and saying goodbye to my parents, this sentence was running through the back of my head: “You could meet your husband today.

Could I?

It was certainly a possibility.

In reality, if you’ve ever been to Bible college, you’ll know that it was a probability. And let me tell you, I was prime Bible college wife material. Allow me to elaborate:

1) I was a pastor’s daughter.

2) I sang on my youth group’s worship team and led Bible studies.

3) My favorite band was Superchic[k] and I had seen Toby Mac in concert at least 5 times.

4) I wore a purity ring and had never had a boyfriend.

5) I had a plethora of gender neutral tee shirts with Scripture and/or Jesus’ face on it.

The odds were stacked against me. Yet here I am, five years later and where’s my ring by spring? I’m not sure, but they definitely didn’t give me my money back.

Here are my best tips for making it out of Bible college without being shackled to a man by the ring finger.

#1) Learn to recognize the “wife scope”: The quickest way to tell if a guy is only interested in being your friend or if he’s looking for someone to take home to his momma is the “wife scope”. Inexperienced Bible college men will be super obvious about it. It comes in the form of a very specific question, posed casually, usually in the cafeteria or in one of the coed common areas: “So, do you think you could see yourself serving a children’s ministry at a small church plant in the northern regions of Peru in the next 4 to 5 years?”

Pause and consider: “What’s your major again?”

“Peruvian missions, with an emphasis in church plants with children’s ministries”

#2) Master the “Don’t talk to me” vibe: Once you realize that you’re on a guy’s wife scope, it’s time to deflect his affections with what I like to call the “don’t talk to me” vibe.

First, use closed body language and avoid eye contact. Even if he’s sitting between you and the white board, and you desperately need to copy down the 5th petal of Calvin’s TULIP, look resolutely in the opposite direction. You can get notes some other time. If you find yourself trapped in his gaze and he attempts conversation, resort to one word answers, half hearted smiles, and non-committal shrugs and grunts. Make sure you’ve alerted your roomie and hall mates to this development, so they can bail you out of a desperate situation. Most importantly, NEVER acknowledge his presence unless he speaks to you directly.

#3) Say crazy stuff: Develop the habit of talking about your “potpourri” of theology as frequently as possible, particularly in class. Say stuff like, “Maybe God is a woman,” or “Is it really necessary to submit?” Granted, you might get your rear handed to you by your professor, but they’re used to hearing crazy stuff. It’s best if you get a little emotional during times like this; it’ll tell your unwanted suitor that you’re a time bomb of insanity just waiting to go off.

#4) Never ever ever EVER bring your Bible to class. Don’t even have one on your smartphone/ipod. Just memorize it (but don’t tell anyone).

There are many other methods to avoiding the wife-seekers of your Bible college. These have worked for me. What has worked for you?

what your coffee says about you

There’s a secret language that exists among everyone who consumes liquid beverages. It is spoken by many, but understood by few. Those who understand it are given the title of “barista”. The most common understanding of the Italian word “barista” is “a person who makes and serves coffee in a coffee bar”. Since my assimilation into the ranks of the baristas two months ago, I have learned the true meaning of the word. Barista: comedian, weather person, therapist, and drug dealer. A barista is more than just the person who pulls your espresso shots and steams your milk. We have also learned the art of discovering exactly who you are based on what you order. And it is here that I offer this handy guide as a way of looking into your inner self.

Decaf Sugar Free No Whip Soy Snickers Smoothie:
This is also known as the “Why Bother?” These people are the fun sponges of the world. They soak up all the fun for themselves but instead of enjoying it, they squirrel is away like some bizzare episode of “Hoarders: Burried Alive”. You might fall into this category if you find yourself asking “Is this water sanitary?” at the public pool, insisting that everyone wait half an hour after eating before swimming, and only allowing one person on your trampoline at a time.

Americano with Heavy Whipping Cream/Caramel Breve
(For those who don’t know, a breve (pronounce brevay, NOT brawvay) is essentially a latte with half and half instead of milk.) I like to call this the “Suicide Watch”. Orderers of this drink are typically trying to kill themselves slowly and make it look like an accident. That, or they’re tempting fate with the “die young and leave a pretty corpse” philosophy. This beverage is usually accompanied with a slice of marble bread, the pastry with the highest calorie count. You might be this person if you gravitate towards dark, musty basements, or you’re saving money to go skydiving over a chain of active volcanoes.

The Incredibly Precise Cup of Coffee
This is affectionately called “The Control Freak”. It sounds like this, “I’ll have a large coffee, medium roast, half caf, exactly 137 degrees Fahrenheit, 4 miligrams of half and half, 73 granules of Splenda, and 3 U.S. currency nickle sized cubes of ice from the polar ice caps, Northern hemisphere, please.” Even though a cup of coffee is the easiest thing to make, these customers are the most intimidating. You think they won’t know if you only put 72 granules of Splenda in their coffee, but they know. And they will rage hard. Steaming hot coffee will come flying in your face (it won’t burn you because of the 3 U.S. currency nickle sized ice cubes from the polar ice caps, but it will cause a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth.). These people are similar to fun sponges, but way more intense.

Extra shot, extra flavor, extra whip
We like to call this beverage “Luxuriating”. These are the extravagant types, the kind of people who want more, more, more with all the toppings. They tend to get carried away with themselves. Typically, they order a simple drink: “Medium white mocha.” Then they decide to get a little fancy, “Make it a large….” then it gets crazy. “Add an extra shot….and extra flavor….and extra whip….and sprinkles…..and soak a cookie in it……and toss in a puppy….no, FIVE puppies…..and some balloons…..and candy!!!” By the time they get to the drive thru window they are in such a frenzy that they start throwing wads of cash at you and practically climb into the window and get the drink themselves. These people get easily carried away with everything. Their cars have an excess of bumper stickers and things hanging from their rearview mirrors, and there are usually at least three very excited dogs in the backseat.

These are only the 4 most common types of people who come through our drive thru. You may be asking, “Don’t normal people come to your store?” The answer: NO. Normal people don’t drink coffee.