10:16 p.m. - 2007-04-01
Damn You, Mister Coffee! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!!
Sometimes I wake up early and make Kia coffee and bring it upstairs and serve it to her in bed. One day recently, while shopping, it occurred to me that this early coffee endeavor could ultimately have negative ramifications for certain parties. To wit, Kia could grow a little bit TOO accustomed to coffee being brought to her in bed. Expectations could be raised; one day, coffee won't be enough. Breakfast in bed will be expected. Then cheese plates. Then lunch. Then tapas. After the tapas, when will it end?
After the tapas?
No. I couldn't let this escalate to tapas. Something had to be done. Perhaps a convenient, space-efficient, reasonably priced appliance could help me steer clear of the tapas quandary looming before us, threatening our marriage? But of course! A coffee maker! The kind with the timer! What you do, see, is load up the machine with the ground coffee and water so essential to coffee production, set the timer, and the coffee automatically makes itself at the appointed (early) hour. Kia still gets early coffee, but her husband doesn't have to get up early. Everybody wins! Luckily, the store where I was shopping, Target, sells such a device. I purchased one, a Mr Coffee 4 Series 4 cup coffee maker with timer, for fourteen ninety-nine. Our future never seemed brighter.
But disappointment would soon sully the brightness. For it soon became apparent that the timer coffee maker was too good to be true. Mr Coffee, we soon learned, has certain tendencies. Leaky tendencies. Our machine seemed to be working fine, making drip coffee in mere minutes, but when we tried to use the timer, we soon realized that water was slowly leaking out the bottom throughout the night. Mr Coffee couldn't hold his water long enough to turn it into delicious early morning coffee. This Mr Coffee was no coffee maker. He was a FRAUD! An incontinent fraud!
And so, once again we've learned to lower our expectations, and have gone back to manual, non-machine-made coffee, coffee brewed with the sweat of our brow and a cone filter. I suppose it's to be expected. I flew too close to the sun of effortless coffee with wings of shoddy merchandise and the consequences are...really pretty mild. We're still making coffee manually. Which is actually okay, because that way you don't drink the coffee that's been sitting there on the little hot plate thing and sure it stays hot, but it still gets kind of stale and doesn't taste as good. Kia and I both make pretty good coffee manually. Maybe everything turned out for the better.
Still, part of me is crying inside. Mr Coffee let us down. He got so caught up in the celebrity high life that he forgot his roots, his reason for being. Mr Coffee can no longer even MAKE titular coffee, and it's tragic. Joe DiMaggio must be standing up in Baseball Heaven, holding his bat, weeping. Except, do they use baseball bats in Baseball Heaven? Or do they have baseballs lasers or baseball perfect energy fields that you wield with the power of your mind and no physical effort? You could spend a lifetime wondering over such questions and it wouldn't matter. No matter what, Baseball Heaven must be terribly, terribly lame.
Whatever. Anyway, next week Yid Vicious is playing in Minneapolis.
NEXT: Yid Vicious in Minneapolis!!!
