The saturday night before a big final means I’m either at home languishing between the pages of my text books or am somewhere like Cafe Artiste languishing between the pages of my text book. The interesting thing about Cafe Artiste is that every once in a while I’ll hear something over the background noise and here’s what I heard tonight:
Gay man telling female friend: “I came out to my parents over breakfast. My Mom was pouring us all coffee. ‘Mom’, I said, ‘I like my coffee like I like my women……..I don’t like coffee…‘ “
