"Insanity doesn't run in my family.... It practically gallops!" - Cary Grant in "Arsenic and Old Lace" (1944)
Venting an overflow of dsyfunctionality inspired by the Boy (aka my son) declaring "I really don't care... Blog it."

3/28/10

BRB

How hectic has your life been lately?  Mine's been non-stop!  Never would have guessed from my recent lack of posts would ya.  Never fear, dear reader, more tales are forthcoming... starting next weekend.  Now that we've survived a recent round of school play practice and performance, work projects, regular car repair, emergency car repair, The Boy being sick, and then being sick myself.... we're off on a much needed vacation.

So I'll be back next weekend to describe the beauty of the Cherry Blossoms in Washington DC and what it was like to stay in our first hostel.  I'll try to get a couple of good pictures to share as well! 

Whew!  Time really does fly by!  Before you know it the Spring Mullet Hunt will be upon us.... but that's a whole other story.


3/3/10

Black Plasma

They say the the human body is made up of over 55% water. My chemistry is a little more high-test then most, being composed mainly of thick, unadulterated java. My father worked for the railroad, a job which demanded that a pot of black coffee be brewing 24/7. I sure it was in the Transportation Union's rule book somewhere. And we’re talking railroad coffee here… Strong enough to remove any stray rust from the tracks. That’s what I was raised on and still require on a daily basis to lubricate what brain cells I have left.

At work the rule is that everything must be labeled on your desk. Ergo… I have a prominent spot on my desk marked off for my coffee cup. Being a bit of a wisenheimer, I thought long and hard over how to label my lifeline before narrowing it down to three choices. So I carefully folded some cardstock into a flip-able tri-folded sign bearing the labels “Java Chalice”, “Elixir of Life” and “Black Plasma”. Then because my favorite cup has become a permanent appendage, when removed from it’s place of honor you'll find a small label that reads… “Twolf is out of the office”. (I debated on placing a similar label on the seat of my chair, but thought better of it.)

Recently a new food service vendor took over the cafeterias at work. I strolled in one morning to refill my cup, took a sip and shuddered. Someone in their management had the audacity to replace the brewed coffee machine with one that serves instant! We’re talking terrible instant coffee. Their brewed coffee was barely strong enough to begin with, but this swill is more akin to mop water then to coffee. Why the vending machines serve better! I couldn’t drink it… which lead to a sharp drop in my productivity that day.

Coffee for me is honestly medicinal. My blood pressure runs so low that without a good dose of caffeine my entire system threatens to shut down. If I accidentally run out of coffee at home, a ultra-sonic signal proceeds my vehicle down the interstate to work forcing the other drivers to give wide berth for their own safety. Well… it would probably be a valuable safety option when you think about it.

This leaves me in a quandary. Unfortunately the rules don’t allow me to bring in a coffee pot. I tried to bring a thermos, but it was obviously too early in the morning (4:30) for my brain to remember a new step in its usual auto-piloted routine. The thermos sat on my counter several mornings. A couple of times I did remember to fill it, but it never made it out the door. Finally I broke down and brought in a (slightly) more palatable instant coffee to use… leaving it in the car so that it would actually make it to work. (I’m not mentioning the two days that it took for me to remember to take it to my desk.)

Remember my new toy… the personal vaporizer (or electronic cigarette) that I recently took up instead of smoking that I mentioned in a previous post? Thankfully the cafe mocha flavored nicotine juice that I’ve been puffing away on is full-bodied and flavorful. If I close my eyes, take a puff and then quickly slurp down some of what passes for coffee, maybe I can fool myself long enough to make it through a few more days. If you see a story on the news about some loony holding hostages in a factory lunchroom demanding a keg of Starbucks and a straw… remember me fondly.


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