2001-05-29 - 6:15 p.m.
I feel a great disturbance in the Force--as though a million souls cried out in terror and then were silenced.
Oh, wait--it�s just Shrub visiting San Diego. Never mind.
***
Had another coffee emergency yesterday--meaning I ran out of it and Peet�s was closed for the holiday. So I broke down and picked up one of those mini-vaccuum-packs of pre-ground Seattle�s Best at the market. I figured it would tide me over for a day, and it had to be better than Starbucks.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrongwrongWRONG. Blecch. What a disgusting foul brew that was.
Perhaps someone from the Seattle area can explain to me howthefuckever that town got its rep for great coffee? Are there lots of tiny companies selling to-die-for coffee that are so overshadowed by Starbucks (pure evil) and Seattle�s Best (which is to coffee as Milwaukee�s Best is to beer) that no one outside of the city knows about them? I think I�ll just get some Taster�s Choice next time this happens--at least it doesn�t pretend to be anything other than the battery acid it is.
***
While running some errands this morning I noticed that the International Male store had gone out of business (a surprise in its own right--you�d think a chain store selling thong underwear and mesh T-shirts would be a can�t-miss proposition in Hillcrest). In its place was something called "Smart Scrubs" which from the look of the display window sells medical-surgical garb in all manner of colors and patterns.
Please tell me this isn�t the next fashion trend. A large chunk of my childhood was spent having pain inflicted on me by people wearing that shit, and if I wake up tomorrow and all the gymbots in my neighborhood are suddenly dressed up like hospital orderlies then chances are very good that I�ll go totally mental.
On the other hand, I guess I could be proactive. If it turns out that scrubs are in fact what the well-dressed hipster is wearing this summer, I think I�ll add a dose of realism--all I need is to buy some scrubs in bulk, invest in an economy-sized jug of stage blood and then sell my gore-splattered creations at crafts fairs. Why spend 10 bucks on some cheesy tie-dyed shirt that makes you look like just another stupid hippie when you can look like you just came out of open-heart surgery? Or a double homicide? Dame Fashion is a cruel mistress, after all.
***
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