Brentology.com

My Caribou Coffee drinking partner is sick, so I am on my own to read the Sunday paper, play on my computer, and people watch while downing some dark roast caffeine filled goodness. In a coffee shop, I spy . . . .

Huge lady in a huge fur coat that looks like it has not been cleaned since she bought it in 1950. You look like a giant pile of road kill.

An elderly couple sitting down nearby and obviously getting their first cell phone, complaining to each other about how the cell phone store next door is ripping them off by charging them to get wireless service when the already have a line in their house. Should I interject and tell them the horse and carriage has been replaced by a magical space age motorized contraption?

Two young girls who are allowing people behind them to order while they decide and that customer thanking them. They then say it is just good manners. That is refreshing these days.

A man needing a coffee fix who, from all appearances, has not been near a shower, razor, or comb in several days and whose sole effort undertaken in leaving the house today was to put on a stained Steelers jersey. Could everyone please let him go to front of line so he can get out of here before the grossness decides to linger.

Many random and neutral people quietly and quickly entering and leaving with their orders. Stop and do something to amuse me please. Dance Rummy, dance.

Another person typing on a laptop across the room. Is he doing homework, playing games, writing a letter or what? Perhaps he is sitting there in all his superiority making notes about the people around him.