Note: there is no “x” in “espresso.” Ergo, please refrain from mentioning “expresso” in my presence.
Yes, I’m speaking to you–you, the aging jock holding the poorly lit cigar with the band still on it.
Same goes for your acid wash-wearing “Omigod why the hell would anyone pay $15,000 for this Ansel Adams photo when they can walk right around the corner and get the poster for ten bucks” girlfriend.
sturtle [dot] com 