LIFE IS HARD. It seems like every new day brings a new question that, try as you might, you’re just unable to find an answer for. The Smoking Jacket understands this, and we’re here to help. TSJ’s editor, Melissa Bull, and Headshots columnist, Mike Spry, set aside some time in their busy schedules to answer your questions in a feature we’ve cleverly named “Ask TSJ.”
This week’s incredible question comes from a TSJ reader in Kansas.
I’m torn in responding to your question because on one hand, I’m all for having illicit sex in public washrooms (it’s where I met my first and third ex-wives). On the other hand, you’re one of those entitled degenerates who seems to treat the local coffee shop like a daycare center. I know your type, Charlotte. Moving tables around to suit your needs, allowing your kid to disturb other customers, telling the baristas all about the mundane and monotonous nonsense that makes up your day. I don’t think the barista wanted to have sex with you, I think he was just trying to shut you up by putting his percolator’s pump stem in your basket before working the knob over your pot (being careful to pay attention to the spreader cover) in order to froth the milk to top up your latte.
Furthermore, in Kansas the legal definition of prostitution is: “Performing for hire, or offering or agreeing to perform for hire where there is an exchange of value, any of the following acts: Sexual intercourse; sodomy, or; manual or other bodily contact stimulation of the genitals of any person with the intent to arouse or gratify the sexual desires of the offender or another.”
So unless you want little Charlotte Junior to grow up visiting mama at Topeka’s Correctional Facility for Women, I’d keep dropping that five bucks before you drop your panties. And for the love of God, get a babysitter.
High five, dude, you are one hot soy MILF. But is your eight-and-a-half-minutes man really serving you right? Forget the kid for a sec, and forget your shot of extra foam on the side. Seriously. I mean we’ve all gotten off to the smell of piss and all, but this situ sounds like an extra-tricky way to get your kicks, and girls, they don’t usually espresso so quick. Is your barista being a total drip or what. I’d say he’s more drip than or what, and no one likes filter coffee anymore. AKA time to get in line with the seniors over at Dunkin’, probs.
Okay, so back to your kid. Here’s a story for you. Back when I was pretty I worked at Ralph Lauren and this one time, on Boxing Day, a couple came in. The couple had a newborn baby. They were so stoked about the Boxing Day sales they neverminded their baby under a table piled all over with sweaters. I heard a brand-new baby crying and I was like, Whoa! There’s a cone-headed baby UNDER A PILE OF PREPPY CARDIGANS OVER HERE! And the parents were all the way four floors up, lah-dee-dah shopping, paying no bother to WHO MIGHT BE STEALING THEIR BABY.
What I’m trying to tell you, Charlotte, is it’s a dog eat dog world, and someone’s gonna eat your baby, Charlotte, while you’re off getting your snack services in the loo. In short: Your baby barista setup + fruit of your womb neverminding = recipe for disaster.
Did you know there are dingoes in Kansas? What. True fact. They go baby-hunting at Starbucks because they like a little overpriced foam on the side as much as anyone.
Seinfeld: “Maybe the Dingo Ate Your Baby”
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