Caffeinated Bliss.

I love Coffee.

Correction: I love Store-Made Coffee.

Doesn't matter where I go, Starbucks, Tim Horton's, or that coffee shack at the other end of town - I enjoy it when other people make me coffee.

And it can't be just anyone - it has to be a Coffee Professional.

My Coffee at home? Sucks.
Coffee at Grandma's? Sucks. (Sorry Grams.)
Restaurant Coffee? Sucks.
Regular Cup 'o Joe at work? Sucks most of all.

What do all of the above have in common? (Next to the fact that they all suck?) Neither myself, sweet Grams, the waitress at Ricky's, or any of the people I work with are true Coffee Professionals. There's training involved. Rigorous hours of training, using industrial equipment, to make sure that my beverage is prepared to exact specifications.

If you think of it, it's amazing. Take a 4-dollar crack whore, slap a Tim Horton's Uniform on her, train her up in customer service,(instead of servicing customers, wink-wink) and she can make a better cup of coffee than my Gran. (Bless her sainted little heart.) There's some Johnny Mnemonic -level brain technology going on there. There just has to be.

(If I brought home a 4-dollar crack whore and told my Wife that she was just there to make me coffee, do you think she'd believe me?)

Whatever it is, there's something about having that sweet beverage created just for me that makes it so wonderful. (I'm on my third Extra-Large of the day, and if I have any more, I think I will approach spiritual nirvana.)

If you'll excuse me, I think there's some residue left in the bottom of the cup.


Later.