Decaf Hazel Nut Low Fat Amerilatte With A Shot Of Mint And A Flake

I had a conversation with Mum this evening about coffee shops. Well, not really a conversation. We're both knackered, so we made noises at each other until it turned into a coherent argument. 

Anyway anyway anyway. I don't understand how people go into a coffee shop, look at the menu and take one word from it, then add a lot of other TOTALLY RANDOM words around it, and someone just MAKES THAT INTO A DRINK. I have no idea what a half skinny strawberry mochachino caramel latte is, and frankly I don't want to find out. Even if it does have cream on it. I don't trust people who ask for complicated drinks in coffee shops. Where I come from you ask for a cup of coffee, a mug of tea, or your out on your arse. You're not asking for a drink. You're just giving the barista a list of all the things you weren't allowed to eat when you were six, and and then that list is just blended together into something that you willingly ingest. Not only willingly, but you also give them your train fare in exchange for the magic drink, which will DEFINITELY add at least three centimeters to your thighs, even if you put the word 'skinny' in there.

I've ranted on about the prices in coffee shop before. It's no wonder that hipsters have to buy everything second hand, if they're regularly showing face in a Starbucks. I can only assume that for office workers, where it is seemingly normal to make daily coffee shop trips for your co-workers, they actually live at the office. Seeing as how the only way they can buy all that coffee is by selling their houses to the shop in question. 

Hipsters and Holli (I Never Said The Two Were Mutually Exclusive)

I had a moment the other day. One of those moments where your first thought is I have to blog about this. 
I was in Starbucks with my Mum, because we were in town and she was hungry, and I needed a wee. We were sat drinking tea and sharing a sandwich, when these two boys walked in. The first was wearing a tan frock coat, knitted scarf, winkle picker shoes, and that adorable hairstyle, where its all short at the sides, and longer and slicked back at the top. The second boy was taller, and dressed identically to the first one, only with a black coat. 
So these two kids walk in, and the first one instantly goes, "Ugh, so many hipsters."
I contemplated this statement after I had finished braining myself on the table due to the fact that I was laughing too hard, and I came up with this:

1. Those boys were the most hipster kids I had seen all day.
2. It's a Starbucks. That's like walking into a prison and going "Ugh, so many murderers." 
3. The only people apart from me and Mum were hundreds of very harassed parents with toddlers.

So, honey, I think you might be a little confused. I don't know, maybe they'd just walked in and accidently glimpsed a mirror.

I'd just like to take a chance to say best wishes to HB on her 18th. Baby, you will realize why I chose this post to mention it when you see your present tomorrow. I hope you like it. (4/4)