I like my coffee like I like my women... expensive?

I drink a big, honking cup of coffee most mornings to get fired up for a full day in a windowless room. New York offers a myriad of options for those seeking caffeine, from the breakfast carts on every corner (many still offering the classic NY paper cup) to the hyper-pretentious places like Think, where I'm pretty sure people just hang out in line to create a sense of purpose for themselves.

While some of these places are worth the ordeal, I must confess that I frequent Starbucks more often than I should. In my defense, my mother has a habit of loading me up with gift cards when I'm home. Free is hard to top, so for weeks at a time, I become a regular at one of the hundreds of Starbucks in the city.

I despise having to tell someone my name after ordering a drink. I tend to mumble, so the process is usually a drawn out, back-and-forth exchange that ends with my awkwardly shouting my name like a mental ward patient. Usually, what ultimately gets written on the cup bears some resemblance to my name. Here are some examples from this spring.

The top left entry is the winner, though I had to cheat when the barista asked me how to properly spell my name. Moving down that column, we have "Jared," which is coincidentally the name of my arch nemesis. Below that is something that looks like "barcet," which was my favorite of the barely legible ones. The final cheat is at the bottom of that column. I got tired of the ordeal that comes in communicating my real name, so I went by Jerry for a while. They wrote it, but with skepticism. I don't think I look like a Jerry.

In the next column, we start with "Derek." That happens sometimes. I was amazed when someone wrote "Jarret" without any help, but I think it just looks weird to have a double 'r' and single 't.' The first time I got "Tom," I just assumed I had stolen someone's drink. As it turns out, one of the girls just thinks my name is Tom, so now I'm Tom at the Second Ave location. It's almost like living a double life, and I kind of like that.

Of course, all of this experimenting comes at a price. When you register your gift cards, the folks in Seattle keep track of how often you use them. I apparently abused this thing, because it wasn't that long before they sent me this:

This is how God informs you that you go to Starbucks entirely too frequently. When this showed up in the mail, I threw it in my drawer and took a cold shower. I can sink pretty low, but I refuse to be THAT guy in NY with a personalized gold card to pay for my coffee at Starbucks... especially after I found out the Trenta is ONLY for cold beverages, though iced coffee is another rant entirely.