I am terribly ashamed of what I have become.

I am a coffee slut, a sitcom wannabe, a harlot of the Evil Commercial Empire.

I have fallen in love with Starbucks.

I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I never intended to be sucked into its pit of Capitalist Scum^TM. But it happened.

J^e and I wandered in today, thinking we should probably try the coffee, just to see if it was any good. We laughed when we noticed three college acquaintances already lurking by the counter. They greeted us, told us they were already expecting three others as well. An amusing period of musical chairs followed, as we all maneouvred (I can never spell that damn word, I've got it wrong again, haven't I?) around the room in an attempt to get the best seats possible. Finally, this ended in the entire bunch of us in the comfy chairs and sofa in front of the fire. J^e sat on the warm stones of the raised hearth, resisting the temptation to curl up, but not the temptation to purr.

A while later, B and Y arrived, completely indepently. It was the icing on the cake. Or rather, the whipped cream on the caffe mocha.

Coffee was drunk, movies dissected, and the revolution planned, Fidel-Castro-style.

We decided that this was the life. We decided that we would take over Starbucks.

So if you want us, you can find us (left of centre...) in this monstrous monument to money, every Wednesday and Friday. We'll be the rowdy, mock-poseur-artiste bunch of uni students down in front of the fire.

If I wasn't so delighted, I'd slap myself.