There is no longer any reason to carry on.
Yes. Lack of coffee has driven me over the edge. I'll be like a cartoon man, dragging himself across the desert. The mirage of a Starbucks, always just out of reach. This morning, I'll crawl myself over the threshold of K-Mart, on my hands and knees as the old, greeter lady walks over, hears my piteous moaning, bends down and says,
"Coffee makers are right this way, hon."
I will groan at her, my unintelligible gratitude, as I clutch my aching, thought-free head and whine my way to the various coffee makers on display. Obviously I will not be capable of making anything like a sensible decision, in my un-caffeinated state. I will jostle on the floor, with the other poor wretches who awoke to no coffee.
I will need to rely on bold print and small-word statements that appear on the box, along the lines of: "THIS MAKES COFFEE FOR YOU!"
In this morning's coffee maker competition finals, any coffee maker that says words like that ^ on the box, wins!
Even the Russian judge will award it a 10/10 for sheer brilliance and grasp of the fundamentals of what this competition is all about. That coffee maker understands the true meaning of this advertising battle and transcends the petty "bitterness" between rivals.
Will I clean the new coffee maker before making this morning's pot of nectar? Perhaps. Or possibly I will be drinking my first cup, with bits of shredded cardboard and Styrofoam packing peanuts, still in.
When I say "Nothing tastes like that first cup of coffee." I will not necessarily be expounding on it's level of deliciousness.
Oh God, my head.
Dear Stir Chinese Restaurant in Seattle,
I ate dinner there today. You probably remember me. I was the only person in the entire restaurant, which, at the time, seemed strange. Now it feels more like a kind of foreboding that I missed.
I am writing this while perched uncomfortably on my toilet. I am remembering your delicious General Tso's Chicken with steamed rice and egg flower soup, with each contraction of my bowels.
I would enjoy sending you the bill for the two rolls of toilet paper I am using, per hour, and the reduction of my pride. But on what scale does one measure dignity? I have also lost a lot of weight on your "Chinese Cleanse" but all you will receive is a Single Finger Thank You from me.
At first, I was excited to have "beat the dinner rush" in your restaurant. But now the only rush I feel, is coming from your food, exiting my body. My stinging anus would like to point out that although people pay a lot of money to go on diets like this one, I doubt that they can sense parasites building little red-roofed pagodas in their small intestine.
I am certain I can imagine the result, were I to mistakenly laugh. Or cough. Or sneeze.
I will endeavor to refrain from partaking in any of those activities. I would be much like a filling water balloon were you to remove its rubbery sphincter from the spigot and then release your finger grip on the balloon's neck.
Thank you for the excellent service though. My meal of intestinal parasites was delivered quickly and with a smile. Although I have never had cholera, I now understand how people die of it. Thank you for letting me see what it is like to live in other countries! It has been an exciting ride.
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