Amongst other things, coffee is now more complex than I can recall…
Spawned by eenyne on March 9th, 2010Fuck Mr. Coffee.
Fuck Mr. Coffee right in the ear hole.
I refer to the Mr. Coffee brand of coffee machine that, say, someone such as myself may have purchased at a K-mart about six months ago. There is of course a story that goes with this ear-fucking sentiment, and it goes a little bit like so:
I am not a rich man, and thus, at some point in the distant past I “acquired” some random caffeine dispensing appliance that served my needs rather adequately for many a year. This “acquisition” may or may not have involved drunkenly walking into a local hotel one night, and waking up in my home the next day with the super human power of turning coffee grounds into life-sustaining drink.
All of that is irrelevant anyway though, because as of some time last year, said appliance stopped delivering steamy water to me grounds. Oh sure, try as I might (one should NEVER try to siphon hot water through a short straw) hot water refused to ever produce anything close to “the best part of waking up” for me ever again. This led to the “reasonably priced” (read: cheap) purchase of a brand spankin’ new Mr. Coffee brand coffee pot.
With the ability to now produce morning beverages at my command, I proceeded to place filters, coffee and water into said unholy device in the manner that any fucking moron would expect to adhere to, but more precisely, in the manner dictated by the included (though understandably brief, and likely unnecessary for anyone with most of their fore-brain intact) instruction manual.
Despite purchasing every brand, size, and shape of filter available in two states, this demonic solution for modern living always seemed to somehow over-fill the filter and deposit stealthy ninja-like grains of coffee grounds into my (formerly) tasty morning beverage.
This usually resulted in the appearance that I had fucking shit in my teeth, which is totally gay, because I haven’t had shit in my teeth for, what, at LEAST a year or so now (according to the police reports I still have access to).
For what it’s worth, my usage of the word “gay” up there is meant to convey a vexing and logically avoidable situation, and I apologize if its usage offended anyone. On the other hand if you WERE offended, and you happen to be attached to a penis, let me take this moment to assure you that unless you’ve had several miles of dick in your mouth, then you probably need to get over yourself, as I’ve probably gobbled MORE dick and (currently) LESS coffee than you. I feel that my personal acquaintance with the previously mentioned “dick to mouth ratio” entitles me to use the word gay as I see fit, or as my darker skinned friends would say:
That’s OUR word “person who engages in intercourse with his, or possibly someone else’s mother…”
Should you turn out to be well versed with the “golden wiener ratio,” then by all means, feel free to send me an email. Preferably with a CURRENT photo of you attached bitch, not your “That year I pinky-promised Fernando that I’d get in shape” photo.
Just to be fair, I suppose I should point out that if you were offended by the above, and happen to be attached to the opposite of a penis (the mother, the maiden, the crone, or alternately, Shiva, the destroyer of worlds, as my female life-partner lovingly refers to it), then you may well be either:
A.) Just as full of PC-bullshit as the gentlemen above, or
B.) Gay yourself, in which case my previously mentioned life-partner would love for you to email me in the manner outlined above, assuming that you’re comfortable with me quietly sipping a Scotch in the corner while doing some light running cometary whilst you two get “acquainted.” She can tie a “Josephine Knot” in a fucking cherry stem without using her hands if that’s any incentive.
We here at e9dotcom like to do our part in facilitating the acceptance of ALL lifestyles (I’ll do it in a cheerleader outfit I suppose, if you really want it, but you’ll really have to be committed to this whole fucked up thing for me to stay in character).
JESUS, what the hell was I fucking talking about here?
Did I mention that I went off of my ADHD meds about three weeks ago? Well, *pssst* just between you and I, there’s no one (conscious) around me at the moment who IS privy to that information. This becomes obvious when one considers that no one is stopping me from using this here keyboard…
So…
Yeah, I’ve been off the “super focus pills” for a while now… so…
Oh yeah, coffee. That miracle liquid that is to me what that ring was to Golum (Seriously, invisibility? How in the name of fuck does invisibility “rule them all?”)
So me and this coffee machine go at it (no octagon, but similar UFC rules) for six months or so. It finally gets to the point where I’m literally forced to WATCH the goddamn thing spew water, turning it off as necessary to avoid that ‘freshly munched on fecal matter’ look. It’s almost to the point where I could fucking swear that if I looked away for even the briefest of moments, “Mr.” coffee would “drop a spike” in my morning cuppa simply out of spite…
…The thing IS black though…
…although, I don’t believe the white man ever subjected the humble coffee machine to slavery…
…well, maybe just the black coffee…
…but really, I’m just typing out of my ass here, and I have no real desire to get all controversial again…
…especially since I don’t know how to play this bit into a swinger request like the last time.
…
So, long story short… Well, long story shorter anyway, I found myself a Walmart.
Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived in places where that involves turning the fuck around too.
Point is, up here, near Wyoming, I DID find one, and found out that this (and near as I can tell ALL Mr. Coffee model coffee pots available in the size I own) flat out NEED this stupid add-on-water-filter-that-sits-on-my-OTHER-filter-AND-don’t-do-shit-’cause-I-already-filter-my-water-piece-of-shit-add-on.
…Now, I know there was a reason I was really tweaked about this when I started typing, but…
…Ya know what? Fuck it, hang on I’ll go find the receipt, because that’s what I was looking at when I decided to start typing this. I never seem to write for this site anymore, so this thing must’ve been important enough to waste both YOUR and MY time over, even though I’ve forgotten what incensed me enough to…
…
…
… .
Sso, I fouund the recipt for this thing. for about 4 bucks I can make coffe that isn’t really that fucking chewy. I left the reciept near the bottle of vodka that I couldn’t buy in idaho (geyness) and the included instructions reccomend that I replace this filter thing once a month, or, as they interperet it, 30 brew cycles.
Now, speaking as a fan of being awake and coherent (questionably), 30 brew cycles is what I generally refer to as Monday through Thursaday, so it seems that coffee technology has become more complex than simply “grounds, filter, and water.” The vodka has somewhat eased the pain that this significant advance in coffee brewing technology has afforded me, but now it is 3:30 in the morning, which makes me want to make coffee.
This pisses me off all over again, and my neighbor’s children’s snowmen will have to bear the brunt of this anger.
Tonight will be a night of firsts, as this is the first night I will carbon filter my coffee, and it will also be the first night I defaecate on a snowman…
The best part of waking up, is colder near my butt… Which, yes, is not so ver clever, but after half a gallon of vodka… really, fuck youu, thsat’s why. so ther.
