Read this before.
While we’re talking about coffee, the author would like to acknowledge two things: one, that he is drinking coffee as he writes this; and two, that the people who come into coffee shops every single day--you know the kind I’m talking about, the ones that make sure everyone there knows who they are, they talk to everyone, they always get “the usual” or some shit, they’re overly kind, and they say stuff like Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t actually own a cell phone, just shoot me an email and I’ll check it on Friday--annoy him immensely and think they should change up coffeeshops every now and then to give the semi-regulars a break from their Starbucksness (because, of course, this is what Starbucks employees do--hang out at work and talk over the paying customers). Further, the author would like to mention that he’s not in said coffee shop every single day and cannot, therefore, rightfully claim that these people are indeed there every day causing this unintended annoyance. Above all this, however, he would like to thank Will and Martin for making him the exact same cup of coffee every time he comes in. He really appreciates this and it makes standing the regulars much more bearable. Had the coffee resembled corporate break room jet fuel coffee, he would have never stepped foot in the coffee shop again. The author would also like to thank the cool glass tubes and metal handles for assisting Will and Martin in the coffee assembling process. Also brought to you by coffee is the author’s ability to think more clearly, often expediting the process of confession and/or hyperactivity. On the confessional front, the author would like to apologize for a hypothetical situation that he’s been conjuring up: since every user wishes to be on Instagram’s blessed Suggested User list, the author would like to acknowledge that he wants more than anything to have tons (and I mean TONS) of followers on said platform, and that he (sometimes) envies the fame of those with the “K” next to their follower count, but also gags, daily, at the illegitimacy of such fame and wishes to expel it far from his thinking. However, the author would like to confess that he’s been hoping for Instagram to “suggest” him as a user, but then reject the “suggestion” so as to be able to tell other people that Instagram did indeed suggest him, but that he rejected the motion to avoid the fame, thus elevating his pride to such a degree that it puts the result of fame, had he not rejected the suggestion, to epic shame. The author feels terrible and would like to let Instagram know that he would gladly accept this offer if they ever choose to suggest him, but the idea of a social media platform being so "suggestive" sort of grosses him out, and may still reject the offer and not tell anyone. This may be a win win. He would like to acknowledge and thank all that the suggestion implies, including, but not limited to:
Ad opportunities (or, the ability to spread to propaganda to a wide audience that doesn’t want to hear it, for a price that would probably only help the author to afford more coffee or pay for delinquent taxes from 2014)
People wanting to be around him and/or become friends with him
People wanting to have their photo taken by him (probably for their own purposes and to gain more followers. This is as equally lacking in moral solidarity as A., and similar to D.)
Companies wanting to utilize him for their own purposes (though, this is really more a subpoint to A. than anything)
Other opportunities for monetary gain, generally speaking.
Though all these are fabulous and self-indulging, the author would like to thank all those friends and Instagram users with tons of followers who humbly approach the subject and are able to beautifully subvert the attentions and turn it to something positive, as well as tastefully advertise in a way that makes me want the thing you’re promoting. Your ability to breach this Psychological Great Wall in my brain is worth noting.
The author wants you to know that he's now done with his coffee.