You may or may not know that I am a hardcore caffeine addict. Like the kind that gets a headache when they miss their morning coffee. This is probably not the sort of thing my doctor or therapist wants to hear but I figure its better then heroine and a girls gotta have her vices right?
I just noticed that when you type out Therapist it looks like the rapist…. Man they really should have gotten together on that one and added a few silent letters or something to make it less weird. I’m thinking tossing in a silent q or d. Hehe tossing in the d….. SERIOUSLY THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I DON’T HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE YET!
When Manfriend and I were renovating our new house a coffee bar became an absolute must have. In our old condo our two (yes two) coffee makers took up the majority of the kitchen space (which was already pretty minimal) and I used that as an excuse as to why I didn’t cook. “Can’t make dinner love, the Tassimo and the Espresso machine are set up just right and if I move them we are all going to die.”
I’m still working up for a new reason to not prepare meals. So far “Babe, I can’t cook because I’m technically crazy according to actual doctors” isn’t working as well as I had anticipated.
It seems like it would be counter intuitive but I have a pretty solid post yoga ritual of getting a cup of coffee from one of the eight billion places this town has to offer (before you ask why I go out for coffee when I clearly have TWO coffee makers at home, I must intercede with a hearty Because I Want To).
I like to switch it up between the espresso bar I used to work at when I was 17 and wore almost exclusively Nick Cage t-shirts & my hair in pigtail buns and the record shop/coffee shop that is run by a guy who is legitimately named Bob and has the beard your beard wishes it could be.
But on the weekend I had had to cancel plans to visit the city for a friends birthday because I’m painfully broke and when I crunched the numbers, the trip just wasn’t happening. So instead I went to my usual yoga class and met up with some friends for coffee. They insisted we go to a different place and I graciously acquiesced. Wait. No… no I protested loudly because the service there sucked and I didn’t like the way the coffee girl looked at me last time when I asked for as much coffee as I was allowed.
I was shouted down by my friends and thus went to the Café that I’m pretty sure resents its customers for even showing up in its hallowed halls. By this point I was approximately 20 minutes past my usual second cup of coffee time slot and had started to develop an eye twitch and would likely have accepted a cup of coffee off of a hobo on the street.
We managed to steal a table in the surprisingly busy establishment and when I say steal, I mean it surprisingly literally (a pack of Cougars were advancing on it and part of me wanted to use one of the chairs like a lion tamer would and shout “Back, Back I say” in a british accent but I didn’t want to get sent back to the crazy people house). We took turns grabbing coffee and snacks because if too many of us appeared to be about a foot away from the table people would start circling again.
I ordered my customary “Give me the biggest coffee you have” and the girl smiled at me (holy shit a smile! She must be new and still have her soul in tact) and asked me if I was sure. I answered with a hearty and slightly too loud “Oh fuck yea” she puled a bowl out from under the counter.
An actual bowl. Like a soup bowl. Seriously, I don’t think you’re understanding the amazingness of this. Guys IT WAS A FUCKING BOWL! THAT SHE WAS GOING TO FILL WITH COFFEE!! FOR ME!
If this had been a movie there would have been a choir of angels singing and an otherworldly glow emanating from this magical coffee delivery device. I was seconds and very large counter away from clutching it to my chest and whispering “My preciousssssssss” but somehow I managed to keep what little dignity I have left in tact and took my magical coffee to the table with me.
The girls stared at it for a few minutes, I assumed it was because they were absorbing the awesomeness and trying to get over the jealousy. In reality it was because I think this is one of those warning signs they put in addiction pamphlets. Its like the equivalent of mainlining heroin, but for coffee drinkers. Actuallly…. Can I mainline coffee? Quick question… what is mainlining?
Oh fuck, just googled it. Never mind don’t want to mainline coffee. I will simply live with my bowl.