PSL Lovers: Not For You

It’s fall.

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I’m with the majority: I love this season (basic as that is). Crisp air, pretty leaves, the best sunsets (seriously, why). It does a lot for my feels and happies.

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Heart feels during fall for no goddamn reason other than LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS BEAUTIFUL WHY THO

But not if you’re Matt Bellasai. This still makes me laugh, and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen it.

I wouldn’t go so far to say that PSLs taste like someone sprinkled cinnamon on a shit sandcastle, but I will say they’re not that great. They taste fine; if you like them, good. Drink them til you hate them. Or until they take them off the menu for the season. Whichever.

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The reactions right now: The FUCK did she say? MURDER HER.

I avoided writing a post about the PSL because 1. Everyone has, 2. I don’t see the point in bandwagon criticizing, and 3. bitching needs a purpose, or should at least provide an alternative. I didn’t have one… until now.

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I was in Chicago for the Chicago Marathon. I wasn’t running; that long distance has been fully checked off my bucket list of Dumb Shit to Do to My Body. I had friends running on behalf of UIowa’s Dance Marathon, so I was there to support. Around mile 10, we picked a spot, and my body promptly fell asleep standing up. So I dragged my tired pumpkins over to the nearest Starbucks, which was a block away because Starbucks is everywhere in Chicago (except when you’re in desperate need; I call this the Starbucks Condundrum. When you don’t want one, you see them every few minutes. When you do, can’t find one close.)

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I planned on regular, black coffee, (the usual, unless I’m feeling fancy) when my stomach poked me in the ribs. Yo. We’re cranky this morning. Don’t feed us that acidic sludge. Can’t you just treat us this morning? PLEASE?

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If my stomach had a face

I scanned my options as the line eased forward. And then I saw something new: Chile MochaThis sounds delightfully intriguing. 

Curiosity meerkat is intrigued, too.

So I ordered. And I sipped. And holy happy, spicy, party in my mouth: perfection for my palette.

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If you’re looking for something that doesn’t taste like pumpkin goop and warm milk, this is a lip-smacking, spice-popping, delightful little cup of joy. Equal parts sweet and savory. So much yum.

My two cents?

Skip the PSL and give your mouth something new to salivate over. Or at the least, don’t knock it til you try it.

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Bossey Boots

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