The Effects of Coffee
Coffee is a helluva drug.
I had a pretty normal childhood. During the summers I was a latch-key-kid, which entails the normal latch-key behaviors. My taste for coffee developed during those summers. Nothing kills time like brewing two pots of coffee, watching 4 hours of M*A*S*H, then chasing the cat around with a lamp like a crazed animal (me not the cat, Kitty is quite calm).
People often mistakenly think that I have good taste in coffee and will therefore ask my advice for which roast is good, or where to go. I feel obligated to inform them that my consumption is beyond that of a connoisseur, but instead that an addict. While I enjoy a good shot of espresso, I'd be just as happy chugging cup after cup of our robot-made office coffee. My coffee pallet has been ruined by frequent use.
All I care about is that it's not decaf. It was invented as a punishment. Decaf is given to people who piss off baristas, unless you ordered the "vente decaf three-pump sugar-free vanilla skim milk extra-hot whipped cream latte"; those people usually wind up with regular.
My friend Kerry calls long coffee orders "blah-blah-blattés".