Starbucks

I go to the Starbucks on Cahuenga Boulevard West almost every day. It's a really weird one. The parking spaces are super-duper small but there are two outdoor patios. There are cops there all the time but they aren't arresting anyone. They are buying coffee or tea or paninis. When you first walk in it's either no line or giant line, never one or two people ahead of you. But no one is upset when there is a line. There is so much to look at. You're eyes wander around at the people on the internet, a giant open refridgerator display with mini donuts and scones and Tazo teas, and the single person bathroom that doesn't require a key from the barista attached to a gallon-sized measuring cup.

50% of the staff is miserable, mean and unhelpful. The other 50% want desperately for you to like them. And then, there is one guy who doesn't care either way. He flirts with boys and girls and ignores boys and girls, too. This makes him candy to me. I think his name is Sean, too. That's kind of hot. Lately, he's never there when I am, though. Once I left him a love note, in my mind. It was something like, "Sean, I'm Sean. When you get a real job, let's fuck."