Hey, nothing dickish about being proud of an amazing sounding menu. I would absolutely eat every one of those dishes in quick succession and not regret my tummyache one bit.

It's been over seven years, but I still (gently) tease my fiancee about how when we started dating, he asked me if I would do his laundry for him in our dorm laundry room if he paid for it. I laughed, thinking he was kidding, and reminded him that I'm not his damn housekeeper. As it turned out, he'd never learned how…

One universe to the left there was a poor birthday boy with Celiacs who just could not understand why the restaurant kept bringing him pasta instead of the ice cream he really wanted.

I want every single one of those dishes in the mouth part of my face immediately.

You can talk shit about pizza salads all you like but the best damn pizza I've ever had was feta cheese, prosciutto, red onions, and a god damn pile of fresh arugula on crispy as fuck crust with garlic sauce. I can feel myself turning into a WASP with every bite I take but jesus shitting christ is it good.

My personal favorite term for the pile of cardboard and sauce they serve in Chicago is a "sadness casserole."

Aw man, really? My boyfriend and I were just at Elysian's restaurant in November, and we had an awesome time there. The beers were delicious, the waitress was the chillest and nicest lady ever, and it was just such a great way to spend a few hours. I hope they leave the business mostly alone and don't fuck with it,…

Hey, I'm pretty sure the Queen of the Dickwalruses* lives up here in Northern California because I had that exact interaction with a woman lecturing her daughter about why she needed to be a better student at her private Catholic school that cost more than my college education. Unfortunately I was trapped behind a…

I'll never understand those people. One of my old regulars, who was an absolutely sweetheart despite her strange order, always wanted her mocha at least 180 degrees. I tried telling her multiple times that milk starts to burn at 140 and it really does not taste good even with chocolate in there, but she wanted it that…

I haven't worked as a barista in almost a year and I swear I could still give it in my sleep. It will haunt me forever.

Bless you for actually understanding this. Bless.

Ok I'm sorry, but I'm genuinely confused as to which part of this is verbal abuse. I'm not trying to be snotty about this, I really don't understand. Was it when I used the word condescending, because if so they sure as hell started it. Listen, maybe I didn't clarify this enough (although I feel like I did) but when…

Oh my god literally the whole point here is that the woman acted like a fucking crazy person? Absolutely no part of her interaction was what could be considered ok, and that has n o t h i n g to do with the fact that she mispronounced a word. I will say once again that someone mixing up their order should not earn…

Did you read my comment? The whole point is that if you assume "what the fuck she wants" without trying to clarify (something that ANY decent customer/food service worker would do pleasantly and in a non-confrontational manner, seriously where are you getting coffee?), there's a high likelihood of getting the order…

Omg I knew before even scrolling down into the comments there would be people defending latte lady. I KNEW IT.

First, the article about the new Ben & Jerrys flavors last week. Now, this.

If there is anything resembling justice in the world, that sack of dicks not only saw your comment but then googled "santorum squirt". With safesearch off.

"some bullshit mouthfart spiel"

For every asshole apologist in this thread trying to justify why bringing your own goddamned food to a goddamned restaurant is ok, I feel the need to share my own personal slice of why that is is literally the Worst Idea Ever.

There are times when I think that the sudden onset of severe lactose intolerance on my dairy-loving ass last year was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke that my puny brain can only process through weeping and lots of burps.