I was always curious how Starbucks could make money. After I drink a Tall Latte, I begin shaking like a leaf on a windy fall day. Standing in line, I observe others ordering Vendis and Grandes of the bold Komodo Dragon, or extra-bold Sumatra and I think, “How could anyone consume these and feel good afterwards?”
I love coffee. Literally. If coffee were a person, I’d marry it. If coffee were a band, I’d stalk it on the road and try to hook up back stage. If coffee were a lemming, I’d probably follow it off a cliff.
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