Here I sit. I’ll give you a couple of guesses where. Up to a few minutes ago, I was sitting inside, but a family came in, looked over the pretty much empty establishment, and decided to push together four little tables. The tables, of course, were right next to me, and I’ve since become convinced that they did this with the sole intention of annoying me. As proof of this, after they sat next to me, they began talking baby talk to their three year old. It was very endearing. They were asking her to use big girl worlds when she wanted to be picked up and placed on the chair. Her grandparents were very surprised at how big she now was and that she could sit in a big girl’s chair instead of a monster chair (they didn’t exactly call it a monster chair, but you know what I’m talking about).

Suffice to say, I’m now outside, mocha-less, listening to strange languages, smelling delicious cigarette smoke, and watching skateboarders ply their trade on ramps and stairs in front of a former restaurant across the strip mall (remember, this is Houston—everything is in a strip mall, even Starbuckses). I’m going through a bit of withdrawal right now, which explains a bit of my bitterness. After scarfing down a tall mocha, I’m feeling the need for more caffeine. I’m currently conducting a study: The last time I was here (Friday, I think), I ordered a decaf white mocha. I wrote three lines in my circus story. Today, after I ordered a caffeinated mocha, I wrote thirty lines. I’m thinking if I go back and order a second yummy, yummy mocha, I’ll be able to write even more.

I’m still a bit upset about losing my comfortable chair to the family. In a world run by me, such things wouldn’t happen. The entire Starbucks area would be mine, mine, all mine. I’d occasionally let strange and beautiful people in for voyeur-purposes, but they would be there by invitation only and would in no way violate my space. Doesn’t my world sound much better? (And, yes, I did go out and buy South Park season three on DVD today. I associate more and more with Cartman these days. One of the particularly good episodes is when he inherits one million dollars. He fulfills his dream and buys an amusement park. He doesn’t buy it because he wants to own and run an amusement park. Instead, he buys it because he wants it all for himself. “No more lines,” he cries. I sometimes—okay, often—feel the same way. Do you see how well I relate to cartoons? I wonder what that says about me.)

Now (continuing with my free association), I hate buffets for similar reasons. I’ve always thought the primary reason for my hatred was that I never got my moneys worth. You see I’m not that good of an eater. Whenever I eat at buffets, I feel that I don’t eat enough compared to my fatter (and better eating) neighbors. They’re getting their moneys worth (since the restaurant needs to make money and must charge enough so that they turn a profit when an average person eats there), and I’m not. While at Puerto Vallarta, I discovered another reason for my hatred of buffets. The hotel Doolies and I were staying at had a breakfast buffet place that also served buffet dinners. We were rather tired one night (we went to downtown most of the other nights to eat dinner), and decided to try the buffet dinner, since our adventures with the hotel Japanese place were very unsatisfying (okay, we went downtown most of the nights except for the Japanese night and the buffet night).

The buffet was surprisingly good. What, I think, made it especially good was that there was no lines. There were three people waiting to serve us: the meat carver (which was the only downside, since the meat was rather dry), the waiter, and the buffet re-supplier (a truly awe-inspiring job). For almost our entire meal, all the foods in the buffet were all ours, ours, ours. Not until the end of our meal, did two couples (one of them with a monster) come in to spoil our wonderful dinner by forcing us to share the buffet. Thankfully, Doolies was facing the buffet and ensured that we didn’t patron it until all the interlopers were seated and the buffet was all ours, ours, ours.

I’m sure you’re beginning to ask yourself, what does any of this have to do with anything? I’m glad you asked. Today I went to buy myself even more toys with some (almost all, actually) of my birthday booty. Knowing my enjoyment of all things electronic, a number of family members and friends gave me Best Buy and Circuit City gift cards of varying denominations (you’re all the greatest, by the way—not as great as Doolies who bought me not one, but two digital cameras, but at least you now have something to live up to next year).

I’m happy to report that I spent almost all the gift money today. I’m beginning to wonder if I might be a wee-bit addicted to toys. As you surely realize (if you have, as I’m sure you have since how can you resist? read through all of my musings), I have an addictive personality, especially when it comes to collecting things. I started buying music for my iPod using iTunes not so much because I liked listening to music (which I usually do not), but because it felt great (in that, let’s not examine this too closely, kind of way) to own all music that I could possibly enjoy. I was the same way with Magic the Gathering playing cards (something I’ll one day explain in more detail). I think the absolute worse example of my addiction was comic books. I bought the first thirty comic books for Alien something-or-another. The comic books were awful and I don’t think I read one of them, but I wanted them all. I remember digging through my couches trying to find extra change so I could complete my collection. Sad, huh?

Getting back to toys, what was I saying? Something about addictions, I think. Yeah, after a little more thought, I’ve concluded that I’m not addicted to toys. I do have some problems (video games, television, comic books, playing cards, etc.), but I don’t think toys are a problem. I deserve them, and they bring me enjoyment and my mommy says it’s okay for me to buy things, especially thing that are mine, mine, mine. I’ve decided it’s time to start saving for an amusement park. All for me, none for you!

I hope you’ve learned something today. But now it’s time for me to get back to my story (it’s way too easy to procrastinate by writing these harebrained musings).