Babes vs. Coffee

The guy who makes my coffee every morning, at one “Terzetto Coffee,” is a healthy young male in his early 20s, presumably very heterosexual and full of spunk. His accent hints at a Balkan-European descent, supported by the regional pop music from such area(s) he enjoys acclimating his unsuspecting patrons to. I am really fond of him, because of his overall great attitude and enthusiasm for life. He has tight curly hair, as if ponderous thoughts simply bounce off him. Every morning my numbness is briefly punctured by his energy, his kind smile.

I always get an Americano—a double-espresso with hot water, devised to mimic a regular cup of coffee; thus “Americano” is a euro-centric designation for the kind of drink it aims to be, namely, for Americans. Sometimes I see him on the weekends, downtown or something, outside of our respective jobs, and he calls out “Hey, Americano!” as he does not know my name. To him, I am simply Americano. To him, somebody else is just Latte. He lives in a simple world, a world populated with probable/plausible pussy, a world I envy.

But our relationship is not perfect, and here is where the trouble begins. Above, on the x-axis,  you will see the glorious five days (M-F) of the work week, which operate as abstract rungs of a very tall ladder leading to a heaven one aims to finally die at. The y-axis presents qualitative numbers commonly referred to as “on a scale of one to ten.” Take this week, just one week in this charade of life. You will notice that, on average, the quality of the coffee our friend makes is a steady 8.0 out of 10—ten being more of a conceptual never-manifested number. Now, please notice that Wednesday’s wonderful 9.4 score is paired with a 3.0 (out of 10) score of the woman who was in line before me, whose role shall be known as the “preceding patron.” All these numbers serve one point: there is an indirect proportion between a woman’s attractiveness, if she is a preceding patron, and the quality of coffee rendered from spunk boy. On Wednesday—so my theory goes—our Balkan buddy, who enjoys flirting with the female customers, was presented little choice but to concentrate fully on making my Americano (e.g. “packing” the ground, “pulling” the shot, incorporating the steamed water, negotiating the timing) being deplete of any desire to flirt with the, to be cruel, unfortunate looking woman. If the woman is simply modest looking (6.5 – 7.0), then the coffee is standard good. I have to thank Wednesday’s dog for the amazing cup of coffee. If that seems cruel, I point you towards God, who is responsible for organizing that face.

Conversely, we shall examine Thursday, the day my coffee fucking sucked (2.1). It was way too thin, from a delinquent “pull,” a dreary brown pool of coffee flavored water, just a tad stronger than tea. And behold—why, might we ask, was the coffee so horribly executed? Because our Balkan bro here had his dick ravaging at his zipper inside his pre-cum drenched pants whilst talking on > on > on to the gorgeous woman (9.6, Rococo face, stripper eyes) whose coffee he was giving way more attention to. I would have helped him with a cream joke, but I was upset. Call me a mister cockblock, but I just feel customer service ought to transcend putang.

I am not a bitter person, but prefer my coffee without sugar. Sweetness might get you a better cup of coffee, or a even date, but it takes a truly morally minded man to stand in line, look at that sweet plush ass before him, and damn this world. TC mark

image – Avlxyz


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  • Michael Koh

    the more quantity of coffee ingested, the more lightheaded I get… and the eventual “coffee-goggles” kicking in extremely hard

  • Julene

    C'mon now, we all know NOTHING can transcend the putang.

  • Kyle Angeletti

    'Rococo face, stripper eyes' – yes.

  • Hopefully Not That Guy

    I don't want to be That Guy, but this article would be much better illustrated by a scatter plot. You could even include a line of best fit to directly illustrate the inverse correlation between quality of women and quality of coffee.

    – Guy who ended up being That Guy

    • Jimmy Chen

      bsg is that you? i hope you weren't offending by my song. bros 4 life.

      • brandon scott gorrell

        oh my god…

      • brandon scott gorrell

        (thought your song was sweet)

  • mario


  • TYPO

    bro, i remember you telling me a story about that guy, totally had deja vu.

  • ryan chang

    a lot of this is true. i definitely have been guilty of ignoring/torpedoing an interesting conversation with non-hot girl to ask what hot girl behind non-hot girl wants to have, then steering interesting conversation to hot girl. it's bad.

    • erin

      jimmy, i think you’re the non-hot girl in this situation

  • Ed

    having worked in a coffee shop for a year or two, i can confirm your theory is 100% correct. i would totally lose my sense of customer service whenever someone properly hot came up to the counter… not that i regret it or anything, considering that i actually met my wife in pretty much exactly the circumstances you describe.

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