My coffee maker died.

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.