An Open Love Letter to Dunkies/An Open Hate Letter to Starbucks
As a lifelong American, New Englander, and Bostonian, I have developed a loyalty to, and borderline dependence on Dunkin Donuts. There’s a Dunkies around the corner from the house that I grew up in. There’s a Dunkies down the street from my school. There are four Dunkies (that I know of) within walking distance from my job.
Honestly, I’m not a crazy coffee person. I miserably stumble through most days wishing I was drunk, with no idea what’s going on, and on the verge of a mental breakdown without a cup of joe. It basically guarantees me a less than pleasant trip to bathroom, some new cellulite, and losing money that I could have wasted on something more worthwhile. But when I do need my fix, I’m heading to Dunkies. Why?
I don’t care if Starbucks extracts their coffee beans from the rectums of Mayan gods or some Venezuelan commune for farm animals struggling with gender identity. No matter how much 19 year old girls with metallic temporary tattoos and $48 phone cases insist that Starbucks coffee is of some undeniable, superior quality, I won’t care. I just won’t.
I don’t want to stand in a line full of people ready to file a lawsuit/insight a riot because there was too much caramel drizzle on their triple venti half sweet non-fat macchiato. I don’t want to listen to a wild pack of basics drone on about how they won’t be able to even until they get their lattes, some self important business person talk loudly on the phone while barking at a cashier, or a group of white, dreadlocked hipsters discuss Marx’s genius.
I want to be in line with a construction worker. I want to be in line with a cute old couple who look like their names might be Gretta and Raymond. I want to be in line with a police officer.
And when I get to the cashier, I’ll be able to look at a simple, straightforward menu and order something with a normal name. Like a big n’ toasty. Or a bacon egg and cheese. And even if they use solid sugar instead of liquid sugar on my coffee, I’ll drink it and go on with my day.
Dunkies isn’t just the economically wise choice. And it isn’t just the choice that makes you feel like less of a yuppie. It’s the American choice. Orange straws > green straws. Always have been, always will be.
what they mean:what happened to all those skiers up at dyatlov pass all those years ago. who or what killed them why were there traces of radiation and why had their skin tanned what is the "compelling natural force" that killed them and what had the force of a speeding car that severely damaged their insides but didn't break any skin. was it an avalanche? was it aliens? was it a government cover-up? this happened 56 years ago and i'm still not over it.
Doing some idle research into usage of tags on AO3 (no really) and I’m kind of interested that the only pairing involving a female-identified character with enough fics to rank in the ‘praise kink’ tag is Jupiter Jones/Caine Wise.