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Party Pants

Party popper. Plop. Negative nancy. Meh. Clenching Cathy. Might have made up that last one, hold on… I need to pour my coffee. Drip. Faster. Drip. Hurry. Drip. Oh my God, why is this taking so long to get into the cup? So, I have been using my coffee press -which I have finally been able to use- and it seems I have forgotten how the hell to use it. Even though its my preferred brewing method. Shocker. But, seriously, that’s how long it’s been! Ohhhh, the deprivation. Where’s my knight with shining coffee cups when I need him? He better be out shopping for shiny coffee cups. I bought some ground coffee -I know, I do come across as more the whole bean type- and have been scooping that into my press. For my fellow “I heart coffee” lovers, you already know where this is going. Catastrophe. You don’t put ground joe in a press. Oh, but It smells so good. Coming out of the package. Ive been too lazy to go purchase the appropriate style of crude. I wait for my teapot to boil the fresh water.Tick Tock. Tick Tock. And, then await the aromatic espresso to fill the air. Espresso-filled air? Yeah, you heard me. It is… totally… a thing. Hush. As I take a sip from my newly poured cafe au lait, I also discover I’m choking down the gritty mud swirling around in the cup. What the hell? Dammit. I forgot that I need to have my beans “coarsely” ground. Which means, I need to make my way to the grocery jungle and pluck a bag of whole bean java. But, alas, amidst my morning wakeup… I still drink the muddy water though… I don’t waste coffee. I just don’t. So, eventually, I run to the market to find the perfect whole bean bag of pick me up. The bolsa I choose will carry me over the grocery store threshold of new life. I heard angels singing when I chose. This. Bag. Is… The One. Laugh all you want but I can’t just pick any Ole cafe. What do you take me for, a savage? I think not. And so, I find myself this morning coarsely grinding away. The relaxing sounds my little beans crunching… awaiting their fate to my perfect cup of break fluid. I let it simmer. I pour into my beautiful cup made of fine China. Did she say a teacup? Ok, its a cross between a tea cup and a demitasse cup. Bite me. And… I take an urgent slurp. Listen, I’m hurting. I’ve been typing away here for you guys without coffee. That’s like poking a sleeping tiger in a cage. Rowr! Don’t hop over the cage. Or do. Or in this case, my office desk. I’ll take your arm off. With your poking stick. And I’ll drink your cappuccino.

Photo: Nobel Ambience Photography

So back to the point… or at least to make the title of this post make sense. It’s Friday. I’m sliding into my Party Pants. I’m belly-full, off of my french roasted brew. Like a baboon. I love monkeys. I’m feeling robust but smooth. Like a puffer fish. Glup. Glup.  Enjoy the weekend everybody… Sorry about taking your cappuccino. And your arm. But I warned ya…  Happy Friday!

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