The Free Thinker

Re: Excessive Ice

Dear Starbucks,

I have enjoyed your drinks for many a year. During the summer, my favourite has always been your iced coffee. The fusion of your usual euphoria-inducing, caffeine-loaded coffee mixed with a soothing cool temperature is just perfect for those hot summer days.

Alas, I've noticed lately that you've been going heavy on the ice, and light on the coffee. I don't know when this happened exactly, but it seems I finish a grande a heck of a lot faster than I used to. I've attached a picture of last Saturday's coffee after consumption, for illustration.

As you can see, the ice takes up a little more than half the volume of the cup. Now, let's consider for a moment what the ideal amount of ice in an iced coffee would be. The purpose of the ice, of course, is to keep the beverage cool on the aforementioned hot days. So, ideally, the ice should be completely melted by the time I'm finished drinking. I understand you brew the iced coffee more strongly than your regular coffee, such that as the ice melts to dilute it, it will match the strength of a standard warm coffee. If this is the case than a drink left with excessive ice can be considered a failure, because one of two things has happened, neither of which is desirable:

1. The consumed coffee was too strong because all of the ice, compensated for during brewing, did not melt during consumption.
2. All the ice was not compensated for, so the ice is taking up volume that could be used for more crack...err, I mean coffee.

Now don't get too upset, Starbucks. This isn't a Dear John. I'm not mad. We're still friends. I'm just letting you know, as I might notify a friend of their bad breath or a stray booger. Your staff are friendly and personable. Your washrooms are clean and convenient. But no relationship is perfect. Just make it right, and all will be forgiven.

Sincerely,
Adam

Oh yeah, you knew this was going to come up today. So today marks the anniversary of the day Hallmark (and, I presume, the flower industry) pulled off a bit of marketing genius and turned February 14 into yet another consumer orgy. Without lube.

Anyways, this is the first Valentine's Day I've been single since 2002. In fact, the 2002 one is the only one that really counts. Before that I was in the closet. And when you're in the closet, every day is like being single on Valentine's Day. Actually it's like every day your dog dies, you get fired from your job and then you get mugged on your way home. And on top of that it happens to be February 14 and you're single.

But I digress.

I'm actually not too broken up (teehee) about the whole deal. I mean, sure, it'd be nice to have someone. I love doing all that romantic crap. My first real Valentine's Day fell on a Friday, and I wired up Tavy's stereo to wake us up to "Friday I'm in Love." Those were the days.

But hey, nothing to complain about really. When I'm looking at my fourth consecutive single Valentine's Day I'll bitch. For now, I'm actually moderately comfortable being single.

It's sort of like being a consultant. Sure, I won't rack up as many hours as a staff member would. But I'm always visiting new "clients" and every "project" is unique. I get to do all the interesting work and leave all the boring stuff for the next guy.

And best of all, I get to charge an arm and a leg. Okay that part was a joke.

Image courtesy of everettt.com.

There was a time not too long ago when all my disposable income went toward gadgets. In the last 18 months I've really cut back, partially because I've mostly got everything I need, and partially because I spend money on other things.

However, Apple's got me wanting a bright green iPod shuffle like nobody's business. I thought it was cute when they introduced the silver model a few months back, but now I can barely resist. Why is it that we humans are so easily amused by a few bright colours? I mean I already have a very good MP3 phone with a 1 GB card. But it's not green!

Underwear is a strange thing. Tantalizing, yet functional. Tawdry, yet universal. For most of my life I've considered underwear in a very pragmatic way, as the last line of defense between my goodies and the outside world.

In fact, when Tavy and I moved in together, we famously merged our underwear collections into a single pool. A lot of people found this objectionable. But logically, between any exchange there is a wash cycle, and as his live-in boyfriend I was clearly comfortable with his wang, so why not?

Unfortunately this influx of briefs allowed me get lazy. Truth be told, shortly before I met Tavy I went to Wal-mart and stocked up on budget boxers. These were the last underwear I purchased for nearly three years. Sure they got a little beat up, but as long as they were keeping everything hidden I really didn't care.

My how things have changed.

Last summer I started to realize just how important nice underwear is in the Toronto scene. In Ottawa it wasn't nearly as big of a deal. But here, not only to people see more of your underwear (should you choose to remove your shirt), but they seem to place a lot more importance on it as well. Also, tight-fitting briefs are essential for successfully smuggling goodies into your venue of choice.

Now instead of underwear acting as a rarely-seen tool to keep the horse in the barn I look forward to throwing on a nice pair of underwear for a night on the town.

As a result, I've gone from spending nothing on underwear to spending most of my meager clothing budget on them. In fact, I haven't been able to find the cash to make a meaningful investment in my wardrobe since the summer. The shirt I wore for New Year's was in fact a cute little number I picked at Value Village. It went great with my thirty dollar undies:

$30 for underwear. This is a personal record for me. But I challenge you to look at them without smiling. The only way they could be better is if they had a target on the ass.

Besides, they serve an important purpose. When you think about it, underwear is a lot like the curtain in a theatre. It hides the good stuff until it's time for show to begin. If you saw a tattered curtain, wouldn't you wonder if it was worth staying through the second act?