There Are Worse Things I Could Do

In Which I Fall Deeper into Cliche
or
I think I need to Punch Myself in the Face.

So, I work in fashion.
The majority of my clothes are black, white or camel.
I own more pairs of black tights than dresses and have a different black dress for every day of the week. And a pair of black flats to match each one.
I live in the West Village and know more gay men than straight.

I want a cat desperately but refuse to get one because, well, I just can't.

Today. Today, though I slipped to a new and dangerously dark low.

I went to Starbucks for coffee. I don't do it all the time but these are the times that try a girl's soul and desperate times call for desperate measures. I wanted the flavor of a latte with nutmeg and cinnamon on top. I needed more of a kick than that. So I, no joke, stepped up to the counter and ordered the following:

"I'd like a medium Americano cafe au lait."

Angels wept.

I had to explain how to make it.

Then, when they didn't do it correctly, I asked them to dump it out and re-make it as I stood at the counter and gave them step by step instructions.

Jesus wept.

I tried to be as nice as possible while telling people how to do their job. I'm properly embarrassed and left a $5 tip.

Still, though, I need to be punched in the face.