Homeless in Seattle.

For lack of something better to do while waiting in line at Starbucks, I started looking around at the crowd. (It was either that or really think about the ridiculous amount of money I was about to fork up for a small cup of bean juice and milk worth about 25 cents.)

This particular Starbucks is in a college town, and I was amazed by the sheer quantity of grungy, unshowered guys and girls who had laptop computers open and stacks of papers spread out on the tables next to them. One guy was sleeping. Another chick was camped out on the couch by the fireplace and I swear to god she had slippers and a blanket. I am not kidding. I couldn't help but wonder whose job it was to tuck her in at night.

It seems the unwritten Starbucks rule is that as long as you have a Starbucks cup somewhere in your general vicinity you are free to take up couch and table space and use their electrical power as long as you'd like to -- an offer which many people obviously take them up on.

It was at that point I realized something: The only difference between being homeless and not being homeless is a laptop and a paper cup.

Here's an example: Say you're a drummer who just broke up with your girlfriend. If that's not the definition of homeless I don't know what is. The first thing you should do is buy a laptop like this one. Then hit the garbage can outside your local Starbucks and grab an empty cup. After that, you're on easy street. Walk in, sit down, open the laptop, put your feet up and bask in the coffee-scented goodness that is your new living room.

Seriously, could this scheme be more perfect?

You're a musician, so obviously you work nights. Normally you're leaving for the club around nine or ten at night and coming home around six in the morning, so you leave before they close, and you're back when they open.

Truth be told, you don't shower all that much anymore since you discovered AXE, the bathrooms at 'Bucks are way cleaner than what you're used to, and you're there early so you always get the comfy couch. And if you're really lucky, maybe even the blanket.

Added bonus -- If the laptop actually works, you can start a blog to tell all your fans what a raging bitch your ex-girlfriend is, and how she doesn't understand what rock and roll is all about and that you didn't know she was even coming to the show and you were only autographing that chick's tits because you're a consummate professional and seriously, the reason your pants were down is simply because it was really hot in the dressing room and after a great show like that you always like to give it a little air, so kicking you out of the trailer was totally uncalled for and if you think about it, she should actually be apologizing to you, and also Neil Peart is the best fucking drummer ever.