While I was walking to work this morning I found myself pondering my basicness, Vera Bradley backpack strapped neatly to my back and iPhone in my hand (I have a cover with a cat on it). Being "basic" is something I'd never given much thought to until yesterday, when a co-worker casually mentioned that I fit squarely within the confines of the "basic white girl" demographic. I hadn't considered how ordinary I was. And I'm pretty ordinary.

So I took Buzzfeed's "How Basic Are You?" quiz to see where I landed. I got "You're not that basic" and a picture of Selena Gomez. Nice! But today, I'm putting myself through basic-training. Get it? Puns are so basic. Point for me!

The person who assessed my basic-dom is Rebecca, who accompanied me to Starbucks today. She was shocked when I told her I've never had a Pumpkin Spice Latte (*glorious angel voices*). According to Internet legend, a.k.a., Twitter and this Flavorwire article, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, or PSL, as Rebecca likes to call them, are for young women in oversized sweaters who love yoga pants and Instagram. I love Instagram.

Lucky for me, there's a Starbucks right downstairs from the the MTV offices (and pretty much every other street corner in New York). So, Rebecca escorted me next door so she could witness my religious experience.

Some time later...

OK, so I just got back from Starbucks, and I'm halfway through my first-ever, basic-defining PSL. I've been on the phone with tech support for a while, trying to figure out how to get the photos Rebecca took off my phone. I'm good now though. And jittery. Like really jittery, and I think I have the munchies?

Here's how it all went down:

Look at me. I have no idea what I'm getting into.

Here I go... life as I know it may change. So innocent, unknowing. I miss that girl.

I ordered a medium (I mean, grande) because I didn't want to go too hard but also didn't want to hold back.

Naeemah, my barista, tells me she usually sells around 20 in her shift, and she wrote my name on a cup.

She spelled it wrong, but how the hell was she supposed to know? As a fellow double-E-er, I felt like we had a connection.

The anticipation was too much. I played with the sugar pumps to pass time, and dreamt of all the simple carbohydrates I was about to consume -- 50 grams to be exact.

Sidenote: I'm still sipping on this PSL, and I've told three coworkers already that I feel like I'm on drugs. All three agreed. Caffeine is truly magical. My fingers are typing faster than they've ever typed before. You go, Emilee, you go.

OMG what a moment this is. I'd like to thank my job for letting me document my journey. It's here. It's finally here.

I got whipped cream, as you all should.

Holy baloney, what is this made out of?

It tastes like dessert in a cup.

Except for the coffee part. Blech, coffee. Did I mention coffee makes me shake and I only drink it once a year? Probably should have mentioned that before.

Drinking a Pumpkin Spice Latte is like taking a 20-minute nap on a soft bed of pumpkin pie with whipped cream as a pillow, covered in a blanket of leaves as your kitten cuddles close next to you while you snuggle by a crackling fire. And then you wake up and don't fall asleep again for 20 hours.

Naeemah asked if I wanted a "treat receipt" so I could come back and try another drink. Maybe my heart rate will slow down by 4 p.m., but I'm not counting on it.

Oh! And I met a new friend named Emily too! What are the chances, huh?

Once I got back to the office, I examined the color more closely. So caramely.

I put my hair into a top knot because I could already feel myself transforming into a Starbucks-yoga-basic-ista.

This is me now. EMBRACE THE BASIC.