So I’m sitting in a Venice Beach coffee shop. The place is new, called Bulletproof. Last time I was here, it was a Starbucks. Now it’s not a Starbucks. It’s Bulletproof.*
I spent, like, $4.50 for a medium Bulletproof coffee. Only I don’t think it’s a coffee, because on the menu it’s called “No Coffee Latte.” The guy who worked here started babbling, saying, “You need to try that one, because we use butter in it and … blahblahblahblah.” I just wanted a drink, dammit.
Anyhow, I’m now downing something that tastes like the merging of coffee and butter. Which sounds worse than it tastes. Which isn’t to say it tastes good, because it doesn’t. The clerk told me it’s “amazing,” which may well be code for, “Sucker bitch, pay $4.50 for our buttery drink and I’ll laugh when you leave.”
I can’t blame him.
I’d laugh at me and my buttery drink, too.
* Note to Bulletproof. Never, ever, ever open a coffee shop where a Starbucks once stood. It ends badly. Always.
