Seventy-five percent of the time when I’m ordering my “almond milk matcha latte with no sugar added, lukewarm, please,” I’ll be recognized by an employee. And yes, my order is a pin in the ass, but I’m determined to enjoy the liquid indulgences of modern life. Might as well take advantage of it all before the zombie apocalypse. I have no practical skills; I’m fully aware that I’ll be one of the first ones “turned.” Instead of learning motorcycle repair or something else disaster-scenario useful, I’ll order the drink I want until I become a shambling corpse.AND I WON’T BE DEFENSIVE ABOUT IT, OKAY?

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