Sold! For one Starbucks cupcake

Today, I confess I've sold out to Starbucks.

Who knew? I mean, this is Starbucks, people. The ersatz, faux-granola coffee chain that has become that safe last resort before serving up the fries at McDonald's. Because Starbucks' employees from Hollis truly care about the company's Fair Trade campaign.

Starbucks pastries are crap and I know this because I worked there in college. OhyesIdid. Ten years ago, it was considered a respectable place to work. There was a certain cache to wearing the little green hat and apron when Starbucks was the first gourmet coffee bar to hit your hood. As a result, I became a coffee snob who was hopelessly addicted to coffee. I was damn proud of the fact I could steam that milk like a bandit (without a thermometer! watch out for my bad ass!) and sling out several capuccinos in a row faster than you could say boo. My devotion was such that I got caffeine poisoning and broke out in hives, from too many experiments behind the bar.

I was the baddest muttafuttin' barista this side of the Mississippi.

She's a mocha-making, milk-steaming, caffeinated puh-hunk!

Then the fall semester began and it was time for me to leave. After the ensuing withdrawal phase had passed, my eyes started to clear. I saw the people posturing as they walked down the street, holding that cup of coffee and looking all important. Tapping away on their keyboards, using the free wi-fi that lured them into the shops. Congregating with friends on the big, comfy couches like in Friends. I saw they were buying into a lifestyle concept, the J. Crew of coffee. They were buying into a load of crap.

In silent protest, I started going to Au Bon Pain across the street for my fix, even though there's a Starbucks right in my building's lobby. I wasn't going to pulled back in. Oh no, you won't find me sitting in a Starbucks, drinking a cup of their coffee, and enjoying it. I got wise. My ire was such that I started to get stomach aches every time I had a cup of their java. Stomach aches so bad, I was sure I'm allergic to their coffee.

But one morning, while cutting through their shop to get through to the elevator bank, I stopped. In their pastry case was a cake stand containing vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, winking at me. Cupcake slut that I am, I bought one. And once I bit in, I swooned. I sighed. I then sold out for a cupcake.

That's right - a cupcake. It's not just any kind of cupcake either - it's possibly a cupcake even better than what they have at Buttercup and Magnolia bake shops. The persecution by Sex And The City fans starts now.

I mean, this is the cupcake. The shiznit fashizzle of cupcakes. Here, have a look:

(They also have what's called a Vanilla Sunshine cupcake. I tried to take a picture, but to be honest, that didn't even last long enough for the camera. What can I say? I like vanilla cupcakes.)

But seriously, how good does that look? All those curliques, like it's a little person with hair. Sitting in the sunshine waiting to be gobbled up by moi. Waving a curl at me, like, "Yoo hoo! M! Yes, you! What are you waiting for? Come on, girl! Eat me up!"

Which I did. And I enjoyed every last corporate behemoth, capitalist, soul-sucking bite of it.