Friday, March 10, 2006
Mmmm... Cappuchino
I've developed a little bit of a drinking problem lately. No, not an alcoholic drinking problem. I've been working on that for some time. This isn't Party of 5 or Beverly Hills 90210. You can't become an alcoholic in a matter of months. You have to devote yourself for years to reach such an exalted level. But like Bailey or Dylan, I've developed a serious drinking problem very quickly. I can't stop drinking cappuchinos. (That makes me a cappuchinoholic, which is a wonderful word, by the way.)
I'd like to point out that I hate Starbuck's. I hate the whole culture. I prefer the more refined culture of the local gas station. In what can only be described as the greatest development since breast implants, almost every gas station has started carrying cappuchino machines. I'm seriously thinking about having one installed in my kitchen.
I've liked coffee for some time now. And I always thought that people who drank anything but black coffee was a total retard. Then I decided to add a little sugar to my coffee. Zing! I've been drinking Diet Coke for so long that I forgot what a rush it was to have a little sugar in your coffee. Then I added a little milk. Before long, I was drinking sugar milk (with a splash of coffee for color).
A year ago, my Jeep just about exploded. I had to pawn it off on a car dealer, and quick. So I headed up to my family's cabin in WI to get the soft top (which I stored there for long, boring, unimportant reasons). At the time, my senile grampa was living there. I decided I'd rather drive home completely exhausted in a snow storm than spend any time with him. (I'm a great grandson, I know. I don't deal well with senility, which means I'm destined to get it. Assuming I don't have it already. And judging by the length of my parenthetical comments, I think it's safe to assume Senor Senility is knocking on my door.)
As I'm leaving Fond du Lac, I stop at a gas station for some caffeine. I was going to get a Sobe iced tea or something. Those always give me a nice rush. I just happened to come across one of those new-fangled cappuchino machines. It was cold and snowy out, and I wanted something to warm me up too. (God, this sounds like a letter to Playboy or something.) So, on a whim, I got a French Vanilla Cappuchino. Oh my.
The ride home was GREAT. Sure, I almost died a few times from the snow. But I was WIRED. And the cappuchino was delicious to boot. Within a month, I was having one every morning. By the second month, it was 2 a day. In the third month, I was mainlining the stuff and snorting non-dairy creamer. I was out of control.
Thanks to the wonderful people at Cappuchinoholics Anonymous, I was able to slay the beast that was my addiction. It wasn't easy admitting it, but I had a family to think of. Quitting wasn't easy either. I had to quit my job and sit around the house a lot, watching old episodes of NYPD Blue. But I managed to get the monkey off my back. Or so I had thought.
A couple of weeks ago, I started working again. I was tired on my first day of work, so I innocently stopped at the gas station for a coffee. But the cappuchino machine beckoned me and I couldn't resist. I've been able to keep my cappuchino fix down to once a day. I think I have control over the beast that dwells within me. But it's only a matter of time until I spiral down and start ordering Vente Carmel Macchiatos at Starbuck's. And if I ever get to that point, I ask that someone just shoot me.
I'd like to point out that I hate Starbuck's. I hate the whole culture. I prefer the more refined culture of the local gas station. In what can only be described as the greatest development since breast implants, almost every gas station has started carrying cappuchino machines. I'm seriously thinking about having one installed in my kitchen.
I've liked coffee for some time now. And I always thought that people who drank anything but black coffee was a total retard. Then I decided to add a little sugar to my coffee. Zing! I've been drinking Diet Coke for so long that I forgot what a rush it was to have a little sugar in your coffee. Then I added a little milk. Before long, I was drinking sugar milk (with a splash of coffee for color).
A year ago, my Jeep just about exploded. I had to pawn it off on a car dealer, and quick. So I headed up to my family's cabin in WI to get the soft top (which I stored there for long, boring, unimportant reasons). At the time, my senile grampa was living there. I decided I'd rather drive home completely exhausted in a snow storm than spend any time with him. (I'm a great grandson, I know. I don't deal well with senility, which means I'm destined to get it. Assuming I don't have it already. And judging by the length of my parenthetical comments, I think it's safe to assume Senor Senility is knocking on my door.)
As I'm leaving Fond du Lac, I stop at a gas station for some caffeine. I was going to get a Sobe iced tea or something. Those always give me a nice rush. I just happened to come across one of those new-fangled cappuchino machines. It was cold and snowy out, and I wanted something to warm me up too. (God, this sounds like a letter to Playboy or something.) So, on a whim, I got a French Vanilla Cappuchino. Oh my.
The ride home was GREAT. Sure, I almost died a few times from the snow. But I was WIRED. And the cappuchino was delicious to boot. Within a month, I was having one every morning. By the second month, it was 2 a day. In the third month, I was mainlining the stuff and snorting non-dairy creamer. I was out of control.
Thanks to the wonderful people at Cappuchinoholics Anonymous, I was able to slay the beast that was my addiction. It wasn't easy admitting it, but I had a family to think of. Quitting wasn't easy either. I had to quit my job and sit around the house a lot, watching old episodes of NYPD Blue. But I managed to get the monkey off my back. Or so I had thought.
A couple of weeks ago, I started working again. I was tired on my first day of work, so I innocently stopped at the gas station for a coffee. But the cappuchino machine beckoned me and I couldn't resist. I've been able to keep my cappuchino fix down to once a day. I think I have control over the beast that dwells within me. But it's only a matter of time until I spiral down and start ordering Vente Carmel Macchiatos at Starbuck's. And if I ever get to that point, I ask that someone just shoot me.
