“You fucked up my muffin order “ and other stories of early morning emotional outbursts: Episode One

 I don’t eat muffins as much as I’d like to. I could see myself getting really into them at some point. Ask 70 year old me and I might say “Every morning I get dressed and walk a mile to the diner and have a blueberry muffin, toasted with butter. I take my time eating it too.  Waitresses don’t like that much, bunch of whores. Pass me that purple velvet turban, will ya? ”

Back to modern day me.

This morning, waiting in line at the coffee shop, I said to myself “Get a muffin. Get the blueberry yogurt muffin.” I ordered my coffee and paused, “I think I’ll try one of these blueberry yogurt muffins” I said, casually, like I hadn’t thought about it before.  It gave the impression I was spontaneous and carefree, which, by the way, is the only time I seem spontaneous and carefree, when I am pretending to be. I smiled. I said please and thank you. I even gave a dollar tip. When the transaction was over I stood in place, waiting for my muffin. The order taker said   “Your muffin will be up in a minute”

I was confused. How long does it take to put a muffin in a bag?  I stayed in character. “I’m easy going” I reminded myself.  I walked to the coffee counter to retrieve my coffee with steamed milk. It was waiting for me. Quite timely, I thought, especially after the whole muffin mystery. The order taker spotted me lingering “Oh, we heat the muffins, so it’s almost done”

Mystery solved. Muffin temperature alteration takes time. I got it. I quickly understood why I had to wait. It was a different ball game. They were doing something nice for me. Something I didn’t even ask for.

“No way! Awesome!” I said with excitement.

“Are you in line?” someone asked.

“No, I’m just waiting for my muffin” I explained and stepped aside.

Another customer jostled me “Are you in line?”

“No, I’m just waiting for my muffin” I mumbled, already less enthralled with the heated muffin idea.

“Blueberry yogurt muffin” someone yelled.

“That’s me” I said.

I grabbed the bag while communicating my aggravation through my prolonged eye contact with the order taker and proceeded to hip check my way out of the coffee shop. It’s like getting through an NFL defense squad, trying to get anywhere in midtown before 9 am. I threw a petite 20 something year old off balance. I imagined her dry heaving over the smell of my sugary breakfast. “You should throw the muffin at her” I thought. I think about throwing food at people A LOT, but I never do. Mostly because I’m not wasteful.

Walking up 48th street in the city, I stuck my hand in and grabbed a piece of the hot muffin. I have to admit. It was damn good. Moist and flavorful. If I had been walking with a boyfriend, I would have said “You gotta taste this, holy shit. It’s really good”

And he would have said “Do you have to eat while you’re walking down the street?”

And I would have thought “Why do you go out with this guy? Throw the muffin at him”

I went in for bite two and felt something unsettling. Cold. Like really cold. The interior of my muffin was frozen.  They hadn’t heated it because they wanted my experience to be better than average, they had heated in because they were selling FROZEN muffins!!

I won’t tell you what happened next, but I will say, if age inappropriate behavior was a crime, I’d be awaiting  trial. The witnesses would say things like

“I’m not sure if that’s her. The muffin lady was really red in the face”


“She seemed like she was mad at something bigger and more important than the frozen muffin innards”


“I swear, she’s the same lady I saw freak out about a rotten banana in Brooklyn”


I’m a toe stub away from a nervous breakdown.

Don’t fuck up my muffin order.



Thanks for listening!



Kendra is a standup comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.



Twitter @kendracomedy

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