PSA
Please do not order an espresso and assume you will be getting a cappucino.
You will not.
You will be sorely dissapointed voir intimidated when a double short black (or, if you’re lucky, a long black) arrives in front on you.
If you want a cappucino, that’s fine. Just order it. By saying, oh, I don’t know… “Cappucino please” usually works.
Let’s work together to stop the confusion.
Coffee makes me schizophrenic.
Ben 1: I know you bought coffee.
Ben 2: What? Oh. Shush. I’m trying to do my essay.
Ben 1: I know you did. I can smell it. The whole house smells of coffee. It smells wonderful.
Ben 2: Hrmm? Good.
Ben 1: Why are you just sitting there?
Ben 2: What? Because I’m working, that’s why.
Ben 1: But you bought coffee on the way home.
Ben 2: Yup.
Ben 1: And the house smells beautifully of it.
Ben 2: Yup.
Ben 1: So go make some!
Ben 2: What? Ben. You had a mocha like an hour. You don’t need coffee now.
Ben 1: Yeah, but this is real coffee. Freshly roasted and ground today. And it smells so good. Please?
Ben 2: Look, if you have coffee now, you’re going to get all jiterry and get nothing done.
Ben 1: Mexican Chiapas…. crisp acidity, hint of spice and chocolate…
Ben 2: Just wai-
Ben 1: Mmmmm.
Ben 2: What? My god where did that cup of coffee come from?
And so it begins.
Today has been shit.
I thought it would be a good idea to get up early and spend the day up at Uni putting in some hard hours on my assignments and revision for my tests.
Of course, I didn’t want to be too eager, so I figured if I got there around 10 that’d be fine, a good six hours before my class. Set my alarm for, oh, 8.30, respectable time. Catch the 9.20 Bus. And Voila.
But no.
Daylight saving screwed with my body clock. I don’t function before 8. While the clock said it was after 8, my body said “Yeah fucken right” and refused to even open my eyes. I finally managed to suppress my inner self and drag myself out of bed (begrudgingly) and hour later.
After some rushing around I managed to catch the 10am bus… not too late. But shitty, and half awake.
Reading my books for my French Lit test made me realise that I had far too much to read and not enough eyeballs to focus.
Working on my essay had the brilliant effect of making me doubt my entire direction and argument, my sources, and my ability to finish the essay on time.
I did write a draft intro to get me in the mood, and a quick outline which is far too sparse and short to amount to much. I found a couple more articles, but when am I going to find time to read them?
Mmm, pie for lunch. And coke. Back to work.
Class time, coinciding perfectly with a massive sugar crash, leaving me feeling, again, half asleep and not really listening to the lecturer. And the test is on Thursday.
I’m taking tonight off. I might read one article. But that’s it. I’m not going to fry my brain. I need to destress.
Could fucking do with a beer… but there are none in the house and I’m broke.
Well, that’s a lie. We have some Victoria Bitter that some guy left after a party. But I tried one last night, and seriously, its not even worth it. It can’t be classified as beer. Really. It tasted like… well, remember back to the first time you ever tried a beer. Probably a sip from your dads glass/can/handle/yardie.
Remember scrunching your face up? Thinking that it was one of the foulest tasting things on the planet, perhaps only beaten by brussel sprouts? Yeah, VB took me back to those days. And I drink a lot of beer. It shouldn’t do that anymore.
So what to do instead?
Stock up on copious amounts of caffeine of course. By drinking an entire six-cup plunger of beautiful coffee. Fair trade, organic, “a clean crisp medium bodies Indonesian coffee, with a hint of spice.”
Uh huh. Just gimme the caffeine. (It is bloody good though….)
Just call me Ben. God of Coffee.
It’s the end of a long day. I’m crouched down behind the coffee machine, cleaning the milk fridge ready for the morning.
Suddenly, I hear the voice of a middle aged woman.
“Excuse me, can I say something to you?”
Oh fuck.
I look up, withering stare ready and armed. I’m not in the mood for dealing with a complaint - it’s the end of the day and I just want to go home.
“In thirty years of travelling around the world, that was the most beautiful coffee I’ve ever seen. The pattern on top was outstanding, it looked like a native New Zealand fern or something. My husband’s a botanist, and got quite excited when he saw it. I just wanted to let you know how impressed we were.”
That took me off guard. I shelved the withering stare, and replaced it instead with a sheepish smile and a quiet ‘thanks a lot.’
On the inside, however, things were rather louder.
“Oooooh yeah. You know it. I fucken rock. I know. It’s cool. I would be awed in my presence as well. Just call me Ben, God of Coffee. A simple bow is enough, really. None of this grovelling. Ok, a little more grovelling.”
Needless to say, my mood perked up considerably.
The boss even overheard (always a bonus) and gave me a bottle of wine. My mood increased even more.
It is nice to have your work appreciated 
(Unfortunately, upon arriving home and opening my bottle of wine, I realised that some idiot had opened it already about a week earlier before seeing that a similar bottle was already open. They screwed the lid back on and put it in the fridge. It smelt and tasted foul. I had one sip. Gutting.)
Sunshine and Caffeine.
It is a beautiful day today.
I just spent two hours down at my favourite cafe, imbibing large amounts of exquisite caffeine while doing uni readings and research in the sun. In shorts and a t-shirt.
My senses are piqued.
My heart is pumping caffeine throughout my system. I’m more aware, can feel the slightest breeze, colours are brighter.
Feeling great.
Thank god for coffee. Thank god for sunshine.
Thank god for good days.
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Adey Ben, 2 months without a post is terrible. Get moving!!!!!
yojoe What about Missile Pops?
Shannon OMG. Check it out… http://mudhead.uottawa.ca/~pet e/beard.html
Ben A singular beer won’t quite cut it. But you’re on the right track…
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