Why am I always too embarrassed to speak up when someone, claiming to be a hair stylist mutilates my hair? I asked this question to my boyfriend after several trips to the bathroom turning on the light and screaming, “What the [delete] did she do to my hair!” each time I faced the mirror. I was livid and he was sick of hearing me complain one day after a “haircut” at a high-end salon in Belmont. He didn’t know why either. I thought about it. And concluded it must be because I view a stylist on the same lines of an artist, and no one likes to tell an artist that their work sucks, I say that as…

Bloggers and independent writers like me and those with entrepreneurial tendencies could breathe a sigh of relief when Starbucks decided to offer free Wi-Fi last June. That meant that we could no longer twiddle our thumbs or bang our heads against the table claiming writers block when the real ailment was procrastination. Starbucks for me has become an office away from my home office. Others have told me that free Internet has allowed them to work without distraction, in a comfortable atmosphere that makes the lonely job of writing a little less “single.”   And there is tons of coffee to keep…

I can’t get a good cappuccino, not even in my dreams. A few nights ago, I had a horrible nightmare. My desire for a cappuccino, a real Italian cappuccino, were repeatedly deflated. Or should I say the foam was deflated. In my dream I walked into my local Starbucks and, of course, it was served to me in a paper cup. When I removed the lid the cup was filled to the brim with foam that was losing air rapidly dissolving before my eyes. To make matters worse, there was no steamed milk mixed in with the espresso.  Thinking I could outsmart the barista, I decided to order a caffè latte. That was a …