I need to channel my inner Jerry Springer

So I'm walking down a fairly busy street near my house on my way to pick up the Boy from daycare. It's a bit chillier than I thought and I'm wondering if I dressed the Little Guy warmly enough. He's sitting in the stroller thumping his legs and jawing away to himself as per usual.

Halfway down the street, I come upon a bunch of teenagers hanging out. There's about ten of them in a clump, and they're blocking the entire sidewalk. They don't see me or the stroller (naturally), so I stop and politely say "Excuse me" audibly enough to be heard over the giggles and guffaws. They reluctantly make a path in the knot of bodies just large enough for me to pass. I walk through, and just as I'm a few steps beyond the group, a blond girl speaks up, her voice nonchalantly oozing disdain:

"Your baby is fat."

I look back, not sure I heard her correctly. And then she laughs. And not in an 'I just made a joke' way. I heard correctly. I shoot her a look so dark, I'm surprised she is still standing upright. I hold the look but she looks away, dismissing me. I want to do something but I'm in a state of shock. Who insults a baby? In front of the baby's mother?? I am livid. I want to go back and say:

"The Little Guy may be on the larger end of the spectrum, but he's a baby. He will lose the baby fat as he grows. Your lack of civility, however, is a much more difficult problem to address. You are lucky that I am in shock from your appalling lack of manners, or you might find yourself in a conflict you have no hope of resolving."

Or, as they would say on Jerry Springer:

"Yo skank! Yeah you, with the puffy jacket and the painted on jeans. The baby may be large, but you're a b*tch. He, at least, will lose the baby fat. You'd better duck before I throw my shoe at your head."

Don't mess with the Mama Bear. The claws will come out.

Not all Starbucks are created equal

Just back from Blog Friends Fest, and everyone is writing such lovely recap posts. I did, in fact write a nice post about it, and you can read it here. Or here. But I've got a bee in my bonnet, and I need to let it out.

Mr Earth calls me a "glommer". I glom on to insignificant, ultimately unimportant details, and my head just keeps spinning that one little tiny fact around and around. There's a lot of space in my head, and the little factoids have plenty of room to move. Heck, they could do a line dance in there. Anywho..I thought I would do a heretofore uncharacteristic purge of the glom so I could move on to mulling over the fabulous time I had this weekend.

Saturday morning, 9am.

I've been up for hours. The Little Guy is not such a big fan of sleep. I've fed him and pumped milk for his cereal. I went down to the fitness centre and used the treadmill amongst a couple of older, muscle-bound men. Strong, silent types. I wisely kept to myself and watched the early risers in the pool. I went back to the room and had a shower. I knew that I would need coffee before the session. So I took my book and myself over to the Starbucks across from the Hilton. (Note: this is why I have coolest husband in the West End - he let me have coffee and reading time BY MYSELF. He knows the way to my heart, he does.)

I haven't had breakfast yet, and I don't know what, if any, food will be at the meeting. (As it turns out, there was food and it was so expensive we should have gotten a lap dance along with it for the price..) So I check out what this Starbucks has to offer. Despite my sweet tooth, I prefer healthy-ish breakfast, so I pass by all the pastries, and opt for the only somewhat healthier muffin. They have a bran muffin, but I only like bran muffins if there's fruit in it. This one looks barren. I look around for someone to ask, but everyone is ignoring me, eventhough I'm the only one in line. Finally, a barista finishes her coffee and approaches the desk. So I ask:

"Does that bran muffin have fruit in it or is it just bran?"

"Um, I think it might have raisins in it."

Another barista comes over and says, "No, it's just plain. No raisins."

"Oh, um, er..." I reply, my face scrunching in indecision.

The second barista opens the case and starts taking out a bran muffin.

"Oh, I'm not sure what I want yet thanks." Why she couldn't see that, I don't know.

She throws the muffin back down in the bin, slams the case shut and walks away. A little taken aback, I quickly choose a banana muffin and a Grande NonFat Bold Misto.

The other barista says, "That'll be $7.01."

I stare at her blanky. "How much was the Misto?"

"$3.25."

"How much was the muffin?"

"$2.95."

I stare confusedly. This is the same order I get every weekend after my run. I only take a five dollar bill with me, and I usually have change left over.

The sulky barista comes back from her tantrum and volunteers, "This is not a corporate Starbucks."

I turn to the other barista to clarify, "So it's more expensive."

"Pretty much," she offers sheepishly.

I was floored. I've never heard of a renegade Starbucks with the ability to charge whatever they so desire. They are a Starbucks. They are using the logo. As far as I'm concerned, they are therefore bound by practices of all Starbucks. Aren't they?

Of course, I had already ordered and the drink was made, so it was too late to walk away. I coughed up the money reluctantly, and went to sit down to enjoy my VERY EXPENSIVE coffee and a muffin. Be sure that I was going to eat every last crumb and drain the cup to the dregs. But it left a bad taste in my mouth.

We were going to stop at Starbucks on our way out of town, but opted for Tim Hortons instead. If you're in Niagara and want a coffee, I suggest you do the same. Unless you've got money to burn.