Confessions of an Oakdale Barista

On the heels of The Secret Blog of an Oakdale Bartender, Weekly has uncovered more weblog entries — this time, from an anonymous coffee barista at Java. Keep reading for the decaf skim mocha scoop on your favorite Oakdale residents.

Nov. 14: Henry Coleman just stole $5 out of my tip jar. [?!??!?] Luckily, Emily Stewart put three back after I made her a fresh cup of chamomile. Everyone says she’s crazy, but she seems perfectly normal — except for hanging out with that Craig guy. Last week, he told me I reminded him of his daughter. Yeah right! Unless he’s in the habit of slipping his business card and phone number to her. Ick.

Nov. 16: Will Munson just bought a cake to celebrate passing the G.E.D. OMG. He is so cute. If he weren’t married, I’d…okay, I’d still be serving up black coffee with a smile and minding my own business. He’s a little young. I’d be better off on match.com.

Nov. 17: Will was just in here grabbing some coffee with that Jade girl. It’s a nice change from seeing her with her adorable cousin Luke (white mochacchino, extra whip), but did she have to sit so close to him? Have some pride, woman! You’re making the rest of us look bad.

Nov. 29: Nurse Meg from Memorial was in for her usual vanilla latte this morning and thank God she got here when she did and made her dumb boyfriend tip me. For some reason, Paul Ryan fails to see how baristas merit a gratuity. If Meg wasn’t so nice, he would have gotten a little “surprise” in his drink. And she should know better than to trust a guy with two first names. Plus, I think I heard him saying something about creepy Craig getting shot. Yikes. Ten-to-one C.C. hit on the wrong waitress.

Nov. 30: Will and the Mrs. ordered a couple of cappuccinos and chatted for a bit. We have a recording of her first song that we play sometimes and I hate to admit it, but she’s good. If only she didn’t look so sad all the time. Of course, if I were a child bride, I’d be pretty depressed, too. Thank God for the single life.

Nov. 30, Part II: Whoa. Gwen stormed back in here all of 20 minutes after she left and practically mauled Will in public demanding, “Take me home!” So much for being depressed. I wish I could credit my mad skills with the espresso machine, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have aphrodisiac qualities. (I’d make more money if it did.) Dec. 7: Wasn’t Carly Snyder’s little girl only a 2-year-old last week? All of a sudden she’s 7. The kid (Rosemary? Thyme?) bought two cinnamon rolls from me, though, so I can’t really complain. And she bought one of them for that metrosexual Australian hunk who comes in here once in a while to read the paper and drink Darjeeling, so I really can’t complain. He always calls me “sweetheart.” Of course, he’s probably married or gay. Or both.

Dec. 8: My register came up short today. Scotty from the Lakeview swears it wasn’t Henry, since Henry apparently was strutting around the hotel wearing a false beard and faking a horrible European accent. I can’t believe I missed that. Why does Scotty get to have all the fun?

Dec. 11: From the way Carly is twinkling at tall, dark and Australian, I’m guessing he’s not married or gay. He’s just…taken. At least he put a few bucks in my jar and called me “darling” in that dishy accent.

Dec. 20: Detective Snyder (black, two sugars) had a pretty intense chat with the ex-Mrs. today. I could be mistaken, since I was reading Cosmo and running the dishwasher, but I swear he said he didn’t want her going to jail with Leon and Prince. Weird. I didn’t know Carly was moonlighting as Madonna‘s True Blue period from the ’80s. I wonder what the Awesome Aussie thinks about that.

Dec. 25: I have today off. Yay! Merry Christmas to me. My gift? Not having to make smoothies for all those ungrateful frat boys from Oakdale U.

Jan. 5: Nurse Meg spilled her latte all over the place thanks to her brother. [!?!?!??!] Fortunately for her, he bought her another one. Unfortunately for me, I had to clean up the one she dropped. Mr. Snyder smiled at me sheepishly as I got out the mop, but smiles don’t pay my bills, Buddy!

Jan. 9: Saw cute Luke for the first time in months. He’s less clumsy than his dad and apparently he no longer likes the extra whip. I’m lucky he laughed when I asked if he’d locked himself back in the closet all this time. The next time my cousin Frederico is in town, I’m totally setting them up.

Jan. 26: It was almost closing time, so I was playing World of Warcraft on my laptop. Of course that vaguely cute Hughes boy and his dorky friend had to come in. Little punks! It’s bad enough that they practically live here and they never order anything, but they parked themselves on the couch and had some weird argument about bondage (or maybe James Bond). Like I couldn’t hear them? Then that hotshot from L.A. who always orders everything decaf and skim came in — for all of two seconds. He loitered, didn’t get anything and left! If you’re going to get in the way of my WoW time, at least get a “To Go” cup and a stale scone, okay?

Feb. 5: Valentine’s Day is less than two weeks away and I may just be desperate. I wonder if creepy Craig is still available?