Reviews: Music and Coffee, get yer caf on In Edmonton
Alright, I have been strolling around aimlessly every day after class for the last couple weeks and wandering in and out of the various carbon copy cafes of Canada; this being said, I thought it might be time to comment on my findings. I’ll mark down a few of the ones in Edmonton that stand out in my mind:
Second cup
Demographics here range from churchy tweed suited Jimmy Popoff look-alikes to tweedy church-suited old ladies knitting in the corner. I brought a date to one of these last night, and we had a grand old time singing old songs by the Penguins and playing Shedding Skin on my acoustic guitar. It wasn’t until we started singing the sweater song at maximum volume that we were politely asked to leave. on the way out, I’m pretty sure I saw my third grade teacher flash me (I always knew that guy was a perv). Grade: F
I find that the coffee here is rather Convenience-Store inspired. yeah, sure, they can make espressos and americanos, but everything else tastes like a variation of Seven Eleven slop. C+ (on account of the
The girls behind the counter were pretty bland. I think one was a 32-32-32 and the other was a 32-32-32. Let me put it this way: If you were still into those tech decks that were around when you were twelve, you’d hardly have to ollie to clear their chest. OR. If you were, say, a pirate; don’t come to this cafe looking for booty. Grade F
Starbucks
Demographic here is mostly the liberal arts students from the local univeristies. I’m a science major, so I can’t spell univerisities right. Is that pissing you off yet? univeristies? haha.
anyways, I walk in here with my brother ryan. I see this SMOKIN hot chick behind the counter, so I walk up and puff up my scarf (I’m pretty sure this is a lib-art mating ritual)… then I order a Spiced-pumpkin-latte-with-three-extra-shots-of-espresso-extra-whip-cream-and-your-number, Venti Plz. Right afterwards, and I mean RIGHT afterwards (as soon as I said “Plz”, I let out this savage squealer of flatulance. It was (phonetically) similar to “BRUAApppfftwheeeEEEEEEEEYEWPeee”. So Ryan gets a glare and I apologize to the young lady, who’s eyes are the size of grande lids. She smiles, I smile back, and my brother looks like he’s about to shank me in the kidney. I get the coffee from her (she pushes the emo-pretty boy out of the way to make my coffee), and she attempts to make the second part of the mating ritual happen: “So, you like Modest Mouse?”
“Only the first few albums, I found that Good News was the beginning of their creative demise.” (If I get any comments on the irony of this statement, I’ll subscribe you to the Viagra mailing list.)
And so it started. Further proof that all lib-art chicks are desperate. C-
COFFEE: well, I’ve always been partial to roofing tar, so I deeply enjoyed their turpintineous espresso brew. I did have to ask, though, who the FUCK thought spiced pumpkin latte was going to be a good idea? I’m pretty sure that lib-art people order that just to sound cool, take a sip of the whip cream before they leave, and toss the rest in the garbage as soon as they hit the street. D
CHICAS: As I said, nothing can be bad about hot lib-art girls that are obviously desperate and think that flatulance is artistic (just ask them about music, they’ll spew off about fifteen assholes who make sound). 30-24-28. piercings, highlights, and probably tattoos like a sailor. Heck, even the boys are pretty. A+
Tim Horton’s
Interesting factoid: Miles Gilbert “Tim” Horton was a Canadian Hockey player. If a chain had opened up called “Miles Gilbert’s”, we Canucks might have legalized same sex marriage sooner. “Hey Terrance, would you like a glass of Miles Gilberts?” “Why, certainly, Phillip. would you marry me?”
Anyways, I always feel safer whenever I walk into one of these, usually due to the fact that cops and medics congregate here like pee on the rim of a bachelor’s toilet. which reminds me of my roommate. that fucking guy couldn’t hit a dead cow with a sledgehammer, and I think that VIM needs to start an ad campaign targetted specifically at him. As I said, every time I see one of those fine-looking gun-strapped mounties, I always give them a big toothy grin; and every time, I always get the same warm, community-oriented, loving response: “wtf are you looking at?”. Ah, such a wonderful life =)
Coffee: Its all the same. And any place where you can just make a turkey sound and they understand that you mean specifically “two creams, two sugars per 175mL serving” is pretty cool in my books (just say double double, nothing else. would you like a reciept sir? double double. here’s your coffee sir! double double. SIR, please get back behind the counter and stop stroking my hairnet! double double?). Grade: A-
Servers: A very wise man once said, “Fat chicks are like mopeds, their fun as tits; but, you don’t want your friends to see you on one”. Well, fellas… the potential for clandestine fun is here. you might need a little help from NASA to mount them, though. I think that donuts represent a failure of societal checks as they pertain to gluttony in the individual. I have a feeling that its gonna be a long long time… F-
Seven Eleven
I’m pretty sure that one night while I was drinking, I heard the “hallelujah” chorus from Handel’s Messiah when I walked into Seven Eleven. I was pretty loaded, but I totally appreciated the irony of a greasy Emo Quasi-goth with eyeliner on showing the world his larger than average culture penis. I mean, that’s the equivalent of a hipster showing up to the party with a 24pack of Budweiser and turning on “Give it Away” by RHCP so that he can show everyone there how to play Twister. It just doesn’t happen very often.
So I walk in wearing my customonial green st. patty’s hat (xmas time), and order all their Taquitos. this is right before the bar lets out, and I sense the primeval rage in the clerks exclamation “ALL of them?!”. “yes, <squints at name tag> demonkiller797…” “It’s GREG” “…yes, GREG, all of them”. he turns around and mumbles to the retiree lady, “better call phil back in here, these assholes always come right after the chicken chef leaves”.
“chicken chef?” HA! You gotta be kidding me. Talk about self-appreciation gone wild…
So I leave my bud to keep six for Taquito-spittle, and I grab us some cofee. If you manage to occupy the acne-factory with taquitos, you can usually manage to open up the “capuccino” machine and scoop some french vanilla powder into your exclusive blend nummy-ness. I mean, you COULD always just use the french vanilla creamer supplied on the counter, but its just not the same. Fun factor of 711>starbucks+secondcup+timmy’s . It’s a mathematical proof.
Demographic grade: A+ (I AM your paycheck, baby)
Coffee: you know, Starbucks took their recipe from 711. yep, the only difference is that 711 coffee is made by illegal immigrants and Starbuck’s is made by Falloutboy fans in their mother’s closet. Illegal immigrants are sexy. A+
Servers: with a name like Demonkiller797, A+ I mean, Demonkiller797 ftw.
And now the Music:Cuban Cigar Crisis
I cant believe that the Strokes got a good deal and these guys didn’t. effing excellent.
Slightly Stoopid
Bradley Nowell may have been a junky loser, but he had GOOD FREAKING MUSICAL TASTE. Exhibit A.
Morten Harket
I’d be so embarassed to listen to this in front of my Pantera-fan buddies. Well actually I’d be embarassed to listen to this in front of just about anyone. So here’s me coming out of the closet about synth pop.
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Tagged with "modest mouse", coffee, cuban cigar crisis, edmonton, Lib-Art, morten harket, Mounties, music, Second Cup, slightly stoopid, starbucks, Tim Hortons
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haha great post.
well obviously, coffee and music in the same sentence?
I feel that any sentence not including them is like Helen Keller without the disability. It’s just not right.