Not Lovin’ It

I try to do the frugal thing and make my own coffee in the morning (or, depending on the budget, make my sleepy self wait till I get to work to partake of the bitterly nasty yet free coffee). But this morning, I overslept, and had neither time for breakfast nor coffee preparation, so I swung by McDonalds for a cheap breakfast burrito on the way to work. As long as I was there, I figured I might as well try their new fancy coffee.

But first, let’s talk about those McCafé commercials. You know the ones. Two pretentious GenXers hanging out in a coffee shop, where one of them mentions snidely that McDonald’s has started selling “upscale” coffee. Their companion starts to scoff, but then tentatively approves, leading to an “Oh thank God!” moment when they both admit that they hate having to do the whole pretentious coffee shop thing in order to get decent coffee and then prattle on about all the “normal” things they can go back to doing and all of the useless things they can stop pretending to care about in order to appear intellectual. Because as we all know, all coffee shops are havens for pretentious intellectuals with goatees and long skirts and glasses who read only read Tolstoy and Kafka and travelogues and such.

Where to begin? For one thing, this caricature is so fifteen years ago. Note to McDonalds: Starbucks beat you to “McDonaldizing” coffee before anyone even knew what “McDonaldization” was. Sure, intellectual types still flock to coffee shops, but so do... well, just about anyone who likes steamed milk and special flavor in their coffee. And then my favorite part, in the commercial with the two women: “I can wear high heels again!” and “I just wanna show my knees, y’know?” Because...why? High heels and short skirts aren’t allowed in coffee shops? And let us not even touch on the sexist overtones that suggest the only way a woman can be truly comfortable is if she’s showing off her legs. I mean, WTF, McDonalds? Seriously?

Anyway, back to my original point, which is the coffee. I ordered a caramel latté. I cannot say that I’m impressed. Like Sonic’s version of same, it tastes like it came out of one of those cappuccino machines they have in convenience stores, or like a powdered mix. It left a funky aftertaste in my mouth that I’m still trying to get rid of. It’s not horrible, mind, and if you want a fancy coffee but don’t want to pay for Starbucks’ overpriced fare and there aren’t any other coffee shops around, you could do worse. Then again, you could just run down to the Quicky Mart and serve yourself the same thing for a buck.

This all leads me to conclude what I already suspected: that McDonalds’ target market for their coffee is people who never go to coffee shops because they believe that they’re still filled with the kind of people in the commercials and probably only ever drink cappuccinos from convenience stores or International Foods mixes and wouldn’t know the difference anyway. Which is all well and good, except that if those people are also trying to avoid overpriced coffee, for what they’re getting at McD’s, they might as well stick to their International Foods and save some money.

Put down the book and pick up a sandwich

The blogosphere is abuzz today with news of what Random House has done with the bastardized "updated" re-release of Sweet Valley High, and I'll feel lonely and left out if I don't chime in with my $20 (inflation, donchaknow) on what it all means to me.

I have fond memories of trips to the library in my pre-teen years (my dad didn't believe in buying books when we could borrow them, which is why I also have sad memories of being the odd girl out at the school book fair every year, and probably also why my home is now overcrowded with books that I own and refuse to part with), hunkering down between the aisles with a SVH, the next two in the series lying in my lap waiting to be checked out, and getting lost in the Valley of Sweetness while my mom took her time trying to hunt down some books my dad hadn't already read. I also remember trying to hide them from my mom so she wouldn't open one up and accidentally land on a page where Jessica came onto Bruce until he felt her up, or Todd mistook Jessica for Elizabeth and like, totally made out with her, because, scandalous!

These books were my 90210, my OC, my Gossip Girl, way before any of those shows were twinkles in their makers' eyes. Did they make me feel inferior as I compared myself to the "perfect size 6" twins and their sunny, drama-filled lives? Sure they did, but I had enough of being made to feel inferior by just about everybody around me at the time, anyway, so I didn't much let that part get me down. For me, it was pure escapism. I lived vicariously through those twins. I identified more with Elizabeth, naturally, because I was just that much of a goody-goody, but I wished so hard that I could be more like Jessica, until she inevitably almost got date-raped, and I'd be thankful I was more like Elizabeth again. Sweet Valley High = good times.

I don't think I'm outraged by the changes--Elizabeth's blog instead of newspaper column, a Jeep Wrangler replacing the prized Fiat Spider their daddy gave them for their Sweet 16, and, most notable/controversial, their downsizing to a "perfect size 4"--the way some fans are, but it does make me sad. I agree that it's kind of insulting, both to my generation and the younger generation these changes are aimed at, the idea that the '80s era references are so far beyond today's young readers that they won't be able to relate unless they see their own world, their own hobbies and pastimes and slang, because, ew, who wants to read something set in their parents' era? All I can say is that I'm glad they didn't pull this crap with Judy Blume--or, even worse, Anne of Green Gables--when I was a kid, and that I actually got to learn a thing or two about the people who existed before me and that the universe existed before I came to be in it.

As for the downsizing, whatever. I'm more inclined to think it's keeping up with size-inflation than making the twins' so-called perfection even skinnier. If anything, comparing today's size 4 to 1983's size six, that would mean the girls actually put on a few pounds. Which would not be a bad thing. Teen and pre-teen girls today need to have this pointed out to them, I believe, because the LAST thing that they need is more encouragement to starve themselves. Dear young girls of today: it's OK to eat a sandwich. The Wakefield twins eat, too. Or at least they would if they were, y'know, real.

Musings

Jason Castro reminds me of a long lost Hanson brother raised by Rastafarians.

Rastafarian is a fun word.

Random strange guys who call me "sweetheart" as they pass me on the sidewalk do not flatter me or make me feel good about myself. They just make me feel...ick. Really, ick. It's right up there with the twits who command me to smile. It's demeaning, belittling, irritating, and not to mention incredibly presumptuous. If you're a guy who does this? I don't know a single woman who likes or appreciates this sort of thing. So knock it off.

I'm willing to give the guy from this morning the benefit of the doubt that he wasn't shooting for any of the above. But I figure they're never shooting for any of the above. Nevertheless, this is how it's usually received. So again, just stop it.

Drivers in Tulsa are just friggin' insane. Myself excluded, natch.

But seriously, I was recently given the bird AGAIN for no discernible reason whatsoever, other than perhaps that I signaled to change lanes. And that's exactly what's wrong with drivers in this town. DRIVERS OF TULSA: You are SUPPOSED TO SIGNAL. Signaling is NOT an ACT OF AGGRESSION. It's a polite notice of intent. Signals are for OTHER DRIVERS' BENEFIT, not for your own, except in that warning people that you're about to slow down to turn or get in front of them is a good way to prevent yourself from getting rear-ended.

Um, wow. Wing, Glark & Sars are leaving TWoP. I've had my issues with those guys over the years, but that site also was the foundation upon which my crazed Buffy obsession was built (when it was still Mighty Big TV), and the forums served as a springboard for some fun, if fleeting, friendships. I know the site itself isn't going anywhere, but it just won't seem the same without them. It's definitely the end of an era.

B. It's the second letter. It comes after A.

These damn kids today.

Not you. If you're reading this and you're a damn kid, then I'm sure you're the bright, talented, knowing how to spell and alphabetize things exception.

But twice this week--Twice! In one week! And at two different stores!--I've gone to pick up an order at a store and had to wait ten minutes or more because they couldn't find it because whoever filed my stuff away couldn't alphabetize properly. This first happened at the comic shop when I went to pick up my subscription, and the poor kid at the counter spent about twenty minutes searching under the counter, in the back, and on the racks for my comics when he couldn't find any evidence that I even have a subscription. Finally, he found my comics in the subscription box under "G." I don't even know where they ended up finding my prescription at the pharmacy last night. I only know that every single person back there looked too young to be working a pharmacy counter. Don't you have to have some kind of advanced schooling to become a pharmacist?

I just hope those kids weren't the ones actually filling the prescriptions.