Forgetful Coffee Break

Like many UCF graduates, I own a UCF mug. As a preface to this small post that mug has an all-black interior. 

I had just gotten home from the grocery store and hard jamming to Ke$ha and had begun unpacking my loot when I decided I would brew myself a cup of coffee, for an after chore reward. And I know what you're asking, "But Dave, didn't you have a Starbucks while you were out doing said chores?" Well, yes. But I digress.

I absentmindedly set the coffee station to brew a single cup and continued placing bananas in their spot and cheese in it's spot and so on. 

As my work came to its fitful close I pulled out some creamer from the fridge. I've decided not to buy anymore creamer and I'm working on killing the last delicious bottle of the stuff. I've been weening myself off of this sugary treat for awhile so I only place a small amount in the mug. 

The mug turned completely white. I stared in disbelief. When creamer goes bad does it overpower the coffee that strongly? I had seen that the coffee was near the top of the mug! 

I looked at the date on the creamer. Expires in April. 

I stirred the coffee. 

I stood there stirring the coffee and looking at the date and just being generally confused for a moment before deciding to scrub the whole thing and just have a glass of water.

So I go to pull out the filter from the coffee machine and...

I had never put any grounds in.

Oh...me. 

Cat Cafes -- My Greatest Fear, Realized

Yes! Finally. The time for my personal Duality of Man crisis moment has come.

My greatest enemy and my greatest love (sorry Honey) have finally been combined into one, amorphous, terrible and yet beautiful business-related-blob.





This is a cat. He's probably annoyed about something you're doing.

                                 


                       This is a cup of coffee. It's probably delicious.

This is a small cat, sometimes known as a kitten, in a coffee cup. It's probably plotting your death.








That's right, beloved readers. There are Cat Cafe's, and they're coming to America. No word yet on the Eddie Murphy connection. The article states, "The cafes will be located in San Francisco and Oakland, Calif., and will be named KitTea and Cat Town Cafe. Both of the cat-themed restaurants are looking at a 2014 opening."

As you may know, I am deathly allergic to cats. It doesn't take me long to realize I've entered a cat infested house. The itching feeling, the watering and swelling of my eyes, the disturbance in the Force that tells me my death is near--all sure signs that someone has made the mistake of not adopting a dog.

You can probably see why the news of cat-toting cafes is disheartening for me. I already have to deal with cigarettes, constant agitators of my bi-annual struggles with bronchitis, at most cafes I regularly attend. That is to say Starbucks (pick it up entrepreneurs.) I don't know if I could handle this phenomena spreading to Orlando.

Of course, Korea is experimenting with Puppy Cafes. Which is probably worse news. I pose to you this question: How many times can a husband come home with a new puppy before he's just a single man hoarding dogs?

Starbucks, you Sly Devil

I have always been a proponent of the bookstore coffee shop. It has the two things I need most in my coffee drinking experience, namely: coffee and books.

Borders was long a favorite of mine, despite a shoddy store set up, awkward management decisions and horrible business savvy, it just always felt like home. It had a cafe that felt open and fun, it had a clientele that could be talked to, with and about. It was conveniently located. And oh yes, they had a large comic and graphic novel section.

I would just go to small, Mom and Pop coffee shops, or use my one dollar refill cup at 7 11 if it wasn't for the comics. That sweet sweet, panel art and writing combination I love so much. I became a Books-A-Million club member, simply so I could hop online, drink coffee, write blogs and read comics. Books-A-Million, you may not know, has the worst cafe known to man. Maybe eight possible drink selections, half as many table, and the same three old guys talking about "when lacrosse wasn't played in schools around here." I guess they're from the North.

I had long been without a cafe home, as it were. And far from negative, this "homeless experience" has been quite productive. I've worked on my art. I've developed new comic ideas. I opened a freakin' Twitter. I wrote application letters, unsuccessfully applied to jobs, talked to random passerby in a desperate attempt for human contact. I have done these things and done these things well.

And then...

My wallet may never be the same. And I don't even like Starbucks' coffee.