A Jones for Java Part 2

The Lex Luthor part of me has created the perfect plan to bring America's economy to a screeching halt.  All coffee will be confiscated  No more Jamaican Blue. Ixnay on the Kona.  No more shade grown organic coffee from the Congo.  The result? Executives on the way to work would look like George Romero "Night of the Living Dead" Zombies (Sad to think that someone has on their resume  -- played zombie #17 in the '68 version of NLD franchise.)  Starbucks would close their doors.  AA meetings would have to switch over to Coke Zero.  Soon there would be furtive deals made in dark corners.  $500 for a small bag of instant Nescafe or a snort of Kava. 

I say this because I have a serious Jones for Java.  Right now, In fact, I have an IV pole of the stuff attached to my last remaining vein.   I am the owner of six coffee machines.  A French Press, A Kitchen Aid Drip Maker, a Tassamo (gift of the gods), A Toddy cold coffee maker, a Mr. Coffee with a timer, and an espresso machine.  I shop for coffee makers like Kiss shops for makeup.

Here's the back story.  I was in my freshman year of college and I hated coffee.  It tasted like roasted tar with a spritz of hot dog water. Well, I was working the night shift of the Holiday Inn and somebody brought in a huge bag of Dunkin Donuts with a six coffees.  I made the mistake of taking a sip of the coffee after going into a diabetic coma from eating four donuts.  The java heavens opened up -- this mahogany nectar wasn't just good, it was like a rite of passage to adulthood.  Make that brown-tonque nervous adulthood.

Now that I am a connoisseur of the evil bean,  I feel the need to unburden my soul.  Well, I liked coffee so much, I worked part time at the Barnes and Nobel version of Starbucks.  For 2 years, I had free and blissful access to virtually any coffee drink you could name.  Like an espresso infused Tony Montana, my face was covered in brown powder.

There's down side to coffee.  Coffee can turn you from a morning zombie to a manic Richard Simmonds in a matter of minutes.  One minute you're high fiving your way down cubical row and have full access to your brain.  In fact, you can name the entire cast of the classic flop Freebie and the Bean.  Then,  the next minute you drop like Mike Spinx in the first Tyson fight. 

Suddenly, you need more Java to keep you operating at normal levels of productivity -- a  productivity that finds you making frequent trips to the bathroom. As my favorite writer James Likeks says, "there's nothing like coffee for making one feel as though a hot and highly pressurized basketball has appeared in your lower abdomen."   For men, it's a wonderful opportunity to make a serious dent in the urinal cake. (Or better -- a hole in one). In men's world , the urinal cake is a target.

If you find yourself lost in the big city and need a rest room, just ask a coffee drinker.  They are the like the neighborhood watch for bathrooms. "Just go down three blocks and look for the 4-Seasons, best bathroom in the city -- they even have a basket full of cologne.  If you're really in a hurry their's the Dollar Tree unisex bathroom right around the corner.  Ask Madge for the the Key with the 10-pound ball attached to it.

To a coffee drinker, that ten-pound ball is like getting the key to the city.

Comments

[antigtani]

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[zayıflama]

I am also a good coffee drinker. Nice job.

[Alex]

Hilarious, yet true.

If you haven't sated that heroin like coffee itch of yours I implore you to get some decent peruvian blends.