And They Called Me Pam

I’ve been a regular of a certain corporate coffee company (hey, my first alliteration) that I dare not mention but kinda sounds like bar stuck.  I make my appearance every Friday after I do my step workout.  Why? First, because I want to justify why I do my workout (strike that reverse it).  Second, I am a voyeur by heart, and it helps to know people by how they flash their lifestyle in the caffeinated environment, I kid, I kid.  Third, I want to see what the big deal is with Craigslist missed connections section.  It proves that some people are wimp by nature, like me.  But I am beyond scanning cute faces in the crowd.  I just go to Bar Stucks because even for one day I expose myself to the social scene, I allow myself to be visible to the world.  Rathole can be lonely sometimes.  Plus, I’m doing a stance again shopping; money is scarce, so, I’d rather spend it on some expensive caffeine boost.  

Only that’s not true, too. Bar Stucks coffee and frappuccino makes me sick (refer to the scene in “Mean Girls”, something associated with barnes and noble).    So, the voyeur part maybe true at all.




Just to prove that I was called Pam for one night.
(Like JLo without her designer, my picture is just ugly without my fancy camera.  I am on a downhill spiral here, be gentle)