National Coffee Day
I read that today is National Coffee Day.
Who comes up with this stuff? Not that I have anything against coffee. Oh heavens, no! Every damn day is national coffee day in my life. Coffee is my elixir; my cure for all things dark and dreary. In fact, on this overcast and chilly autumn afternoon, guess what I'm drinking?
You guessed it.
I'm kidding. Coffee it is. Specifically, Caribou Daybreak, even though it is nowhere near daybreak at the moment. Hell, I will probably be swilling this stuff well into the evening hours. And by 10:00 PM, I will be deeply regretting my decision. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
But what can I say? I love coffee. Good, strong coffee. And best of all, the Surgeon General has decided that it won't kill me now.
I remember my introduction to coffee. I was a freshman in college, late autumn, 1988. I had to write a paper which was due the next day (surprise!). I knew I had to pull an all nighter, so I went to Target, bought the cheapest coffee maker I could find and the cheapest coffee possible.
When I got back to my apartment it occurred to me I also needed something called "coffee filters." Well, I didn't want to waste precious time going back to Target -- and to be perfectly honest, I didn't have the money, either.
I MacGyver'd myself a perfectly good coffee filter out of a several layers of paper towels and proceeded to slurp, write and slurp, rewrite.
By morning I had finished, got to class on time (nearly pissing myself on the way there... that stuff flowing through me like hot lava). But as I sat in the lecture hall, I noticed my heart was doing flip-flops in my chest, my ears were buzzing and I was shaking from head to toe although I wasn't cold. In fact, I was sweating.
What was this sorcery?
Coffee. It was on that day in 1988 I became your bitch. And your faithful bitch I remain.
Speaking of faithful bitches, the Dingo is interested in nothing but sleeping in my chair on this lazy day. She needs coffee.
...actually, no. A caffeinated Dingo is a bad idea. Very bad.
Who comes up with this stuff? Not that I have anything against coffee. Oh heavens, no! Every damn day is national coffee day in my life. Coffee is my elixir; my cure for all things dark and dreary. In fact, on this overcast and chilly autumn afternoon, guess what I'm drinking?
You guessed it.
I'm kidding. Coffee it is. Specifically, Caribou Daybreak, even though it is nowhere near daybreak at the moment. Hell, I will probably be swilling this stuff well into the evening hours. And by 10:00 PM, I will be deeply regretting my decision. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
But what can I say? I love coffee. Good, strong coffee. And best of all, the Surgeon General has decided that it won't kill me now.
 |
| This is still the Surgeon General, right? He's the only one I'm familiar with, so I'm guessing there's been no change in the past 35 years. |
I remember my introduction to coffee. I was a freshman in college, late autumn, 1988. I had to write a paper which was due the next day (surprise!). I knew I had to pull an all nighter, so I went to Target, bought the cheapest coffee maker I could find and the cheapest coffee possible.
When I got back to my apartment it occurred to me I also needed something called "coffee filters." Well, I didn't want to waste precious time going back to Target -- and to be perfectly honest, I didn't have the money, either.
I MacGyver'd myself a perfectly good coffee filter out of a several layers of paper towels and proceeded to slurp, write and slurp, rewrite.
By morning I had finished, got to class on time (nearly pissing myself on the way there... that stuff flowing through me like hot lava). But as I sat in the lecture hall, I noticed my heart was doing flip-flops in my chest, my ears were buzzing and I was shaking from head to toe although I wasn't cold. In fact, I was sweating.
What was this sorcery?
Coffee. It was on that day in 1988 I became your bitch. And your faithful bitch I remain.
 |
...actually, no. A caffeinated Dingo is a bad idea. Very bad.
