Better Latte than Never

31stMay. × ’09

I’ve recently discovered a great cafe near my work. It’s run by a short Italian man who must have ordered his own skin from Ebay, because it sure doesn’t match his frame. There are folds of skin hanging off of everywhere. I now know that there is such a thing as eye-jowls. Coupled with his huge broom of a moustache, he has the overall appearance of a child playing dress ups in Joseph Stalin’s carcass. The great thing about him is that he makes amazing coffee. Not latte’s, not macchiatos, there is nary a mocha to be seen. Just coffee – that’s it. He doesn’t tolerate anything that isn’t a classic cup of coffee. His choices are literally black and white, and as I discovered, he will make you painfully aware of this fact.

The gentleman in front of me, who had more product on his head than actual hair, sidled up to the counter while loudly chatting on his mobile to a woman called Sandreen. He gestured to Comrade Caffeine to wait a moment, as though the minute Italian had interrupted his important conversation. From what I could make out, he was talking about his latest art exhibition. The show featured famous celebrities urinating onto reproductions of their favourite paintings. He was particularly pleased with snaring some fabulous snaps of Geoffrey Rush hosing down a James Ensor. When he finally did close his phone, he ordered a skinny cappuccino, with the faintest whisper of cinnamon. The girls who were making sandwiches behind the counter all lowered their heads and stepped back.

Screw you pretty boy” was all the Italian said.

The gentlemen reeled backwards in shock, unsure of the appropriate reaction. Or perhaps pleasantly surprised he had actually fallen into the pretty boy category. Micro-Stalin then launched into a tirade of insults, not all of which I could comprehend, due to a thick accent and a thicker lip beard. The best parts I did catch were when he said skim milk was “cow piss” and that he hoped the effeminately attired man was gay, so that “for his sake, he might actually get some balls“. The applause from the other customers alone was worth going to the cafe.

Upon returning to the office, I relayed the whole story to our IT genius Scott, who happens to be gay. He also happens to possess a talent for shooting two jets of full-cream coffee from his nose when he laughs. Steve, from sales, walked past and noticed our coffees. I then bore the brunt of a fully grown “mantrum”. Apparently I should have realised that Steve would want a coffee and therefore I should get him one on my way to work. I politely gave him directions to the cafe and told him to order their famous hazelnut soy-latte infusions, which are divine.

Who says coffee is bitter? It’s tasting pretty sweet right now.

 

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One Comment

  1. AW
    Posted May 31, 2009 at 8:55 PM | Permalink

    This blog is just awesome. The awesomeness is overwhelming. I am addicted. I await each new post with the anticipation of a dog waiting for it’s food bowl.

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