Well, while my youngest was in her hip-hop class tonight, I took my gift card that Marina recently sent me and my rough drafts and marched into Starbucks determined to speak Fritalian.
I was going to say, "I'll have a talle decaf coffee with creme." Notice I did not spell that word "cream," which is so proletarian. I chose instead to use the bourgeois "creme." But I do not know how to make the accent appear, so that brings it down a notch. (Keepin' it real.)
But as I approached the counter, I saw their special: skinny lattes, only 90 calories each. The vanilla jumped off the sign and tempted me on this cold, cold, rainy Indiana night. I succumbed to its come hither warm embrace.
So I ordered myself a talle, skinny vanilla latte, in the right word order and everything. I could tell the barista was really impressed.
I sat down and took a sip, and I died right there and went to heaven.
I began writing, and I became, at once, very, very witty. And fast. So fast my pen was making squiggly marks of which I was not in control all over my paper. Inspired by a muse? No. I bet you can guess why: caffeine. If you don't drink it, and you get some, you become the fastest, wittiest, most charming and alert person in Starbucks. Even if no one else can tell.
So now I'll probably be up all night, paying for the sins of my flesh. And you enablers who taught me to speak Fritalian--I hope you're happy.
*PS: Please go say hello and love on Marina. She had a tooth pulled this week and then came down with strep throat. She is so sweet; I can't stand that she is going through this!