My friend Kelly in Alabama asks me how I stay up to write, what with being a single parent and all. She knows I don't like coffee, so what's the secret?
I admit that I frequent hipster cafes like Starbucks and Caribou, although for each one I feel my soul being anchored a little closer to Wall St to be traded with my wallet and the coffee beans. Criminal to pay through the nose for some java, but what can you do? I'm just as tethered to the social coffeehouse circle as the next person, and I don't even *like* coffee. I just need it. Here's to hoping they don't start regulating the juice of golden bean.
I admit that I frequent hipster cafes like Starbucks and Caribou, although for each one I feel my soul being anchored a little closer to Wall St to be traded with my wallet and the coffee beans. Criminal to pay through the nose for some java, but what can you do? I'm just as tethered to the social coffeehouse circle as the next person, and I don't even *like* coffee. I just need it. Here's to hoping they don't start regulating the juice of golden bean.
But as I said, it's not something I enjoy. I dress it up as much as I can with sweetener and soy milk and chocolate, and there's still no masking the awful burnt toast flavour. I'm concerned about it staining my teeth, so I usually accept the wayward glances as I sip it through I straw, and believe me somehow, the heat intensifies exponentially through a straw. To remedy that problem, I'd have to ice it down, but that would also dilute the caffeine, which is the buzz I'm chasing.
I used used to try to get the whole awful mess over with by purchasing instant coffee, taking a spoonful of the granules directly to my mouth and chasing it with a sip of water. I do NOT RECOMMEND. Let me say again, that was a BAD IDEA. First, if you can stand the horrible taste, it does not go away, even after several brushings. But those granules turn into a gummy, cement, gorilla-gluey type of mix with little bits of sandy type coffee that stay hard and go down the throat like shards of glass, and they stay stuck. Like for the next three hours.
Don't believe me?
OK, coffee cement be damned, you've done it. Now you have to deal with the fact that the instant coffee has made direct contact with your mucus membranes, and made a beeline for your bloodstream the moment you stared down that tablespoon of coffee granules and downed them. Within minutes the caffeine hit your brain and it went to overdrive, not in a good way. Your hands shake, your heart pounds. Why is everyone around you moving in slow motion? There things you are forgetting! Why is this meeting taking forever? Your pulse hums in your ears. Scribble, doodle, nerves, didn't we talk about this already? You look at your watch and see that, to your surprise, you've only been at work for ten minutes. You want to talk but your mouth can't catch up with your thoughts. No, you're too busy to talk. You're too busy trying to figure out what you are supposed to be doing that needs attention so fast. You just know you need to hurry. Then you get a little worried. And self-conscious. Do other people think you're acting funny? Is your face flushed? Why do you feel like you need to throw up? Well, at least, if you do, it might get that GRIT out of your throat! You really feel sick. And your breath, it's coffee, coffee, coffee.
And the crash begins...you cannot decide if food will help, or make you feel sicker. The fatigue you were trying to conquer is making a comeback, doubletime with nausea.
Well, in my case, I'm not a good sick person. People can tell when I don't feel good because I'm not tough. I'm no hero - I'll curl up in fetal position, flushed, heart racing and lay it all out there about how I did a really dumb thing with instant coffee just trying to stay awake, and feel so awful about it that I'll practially expect to be carted off in handcuffs for taking up work time.
So, after going to Human Resources for a "random" drug test (TOLDJA it was just coffee!) I'm back to Starbuck's - bending over with everyone else and having my....errr.....wallet cleaned out. For the sake of a cup of coffee. Oh, silly me - I meant a Venti Something Something Molitini Frolichotto.
(By the way, "Ventus" means "wind" in Latin, and I'm pretty sure that every time I order a "Venti" of anything, I'm just stupidly speaking some inside Italian joke for my money to be "Blown").
On principle, I refuse to buy a coffee maker. See, not only do I despise the taste of coffee, but I will not allow the overpowering scent of it to permeate my premises. So, to the ultra suave cafes I go for my buzz. It's a dirty truth, but detox is not an option.
For people like me, let's make sure these places stick around, lest the world run on instant coffee and dilated pupils and the brink of Armageddon.
See you at Starbucks. Or Hell. Whichever comes first.
Don't believe me?
OK, coffee cement be damned, you've done it. Now you have to deal with the fact that the instant coffee has made direct contact with your mucus membranes, and made a beeline for your bloodstream the moment you stared down that tablespoon of coffee granules and downed them. Within minutes the caffeine hit your brain and it went to overdrive, not in a good way. Your hands shake, your heart pounds. Why is everyone around you moving in slow motion? There things you are forgetting! Why is this meeting taking forever? Your pulse hums in your ears. Scribble, doodle, nerves, didn't we talk about this already? You look at your watch and see that, to your surprise, you've only been at work for ten minutes. You want to talk but your mouth can't catch up with your thoughts. No, you're too busy to talk. You're too busy trying to figure out what you are supposed to be doing that needs attention so fast. You just know you need to hurry. Then you get a little worried. And self-conscious. Do other people think you're acting funny? Is your face flushed? Why do you feel like you need to throw up? Well, at least, if you do, it might get that GRIT out of your throat! You really feel sick. And your breath, it's coffee, coffee, coffee.
And the crash begins...you cannot decide if food will help, or make you feel sicker. The fatigue you were trying to conquer is making a comeback, doubletime with nausea.
Well, in my case, I'm not a good sick person. People can tell when I don't feel good because I'm not tough. I'm no hero - I'll curl up in fetal position, flushed, heart racing and lay it all out there about how I did a really dumb thing with instant coffee just trying to stay awake, and feel so awful about it that I'll practially expect to be carted off in handcuffs for taking up work time.
So, after going to Human Resources for a "random" drug test (TOLDJA it was just coffee!) I'm back to Starbuck's - bending over with everyone else and having my....errr.....wallet cleaned out. For the sake of a cup of coffee. Oh, silly me - I meant a Venti Something Something Molitini Frolichotto.
(By the way, "Ventus" means "wind" in Latin, and I'm pretty sure that every time I order a "Venti" of anything, I'm just stupidly speaking some inside Italian joke for my money to be "Blown").
On principle, I refuse to buy a coffee maker. See, not only do I despise the taste of coffee, but I will not allow the overpowering scent of it to permeate my premises. So, to the ultra suave cafes I go for my buzz. It's a dirty truth, but detox is not an option.
For people like me, let's make sure these places stick around, lest the world run on instant coffee and dilated pupils and the brink of Armageddon.
See you at Starbucks. Or Hell. Whichever comes first.
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