Once in a Blue Monday

Giving up coffee doesn’t have to be my New Year’s resolution anymore (I don’t actually believe in resolutions, only high-resolution for photos) because I done-did it already!!!

Yes, I have effectively been off the brown sauce since last Wednesday (ok, so not a week yet but things are looking encouraging, emphasis on raging).

Actually, today I was allowed to pour myself a cup of it, but I was only allowed to smell it and listen to it, but not drink it. It went really well, you guyyyyyyyys. I didn’t even venture a sip.

Do cry over spilled coffee.
photo courtesy of Flickr and tienvijftien

Also, I started taking these energy natural vitamins (I know it sounds weird but they are legal and non-prescription! Jessi to Zack: I’m so excited! I’m so excited! *breaks down* I’m so…scared!!) and today I woke up with an incessant urge to climb mountains and cross rivers using naught but my footsies and armsies. Outstanding. I can’t wait for the 20/20 story on these bad boys.

Two other tings:

1: Andy Kindler rulez.

2: Holiday video made by my improv group, Jinx
http://www.viddler.com/player/f07479e2/

If You’re Not Part of the Problem, You’re Probably in Denial

PART I: ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I had an intervention with myself yesterday.

I was considering these coffee cutbacks I had taken upon myself (granted, with my best interest in mind) as perhaps a bit too extreme, and I was thinking maybe, just maybe, I should cut myself a little slack.

WRONG.

I showed up at my dealer of choice yesterday, feeling positive. That is until the barista said, with a knowing chuckle, “You’re late today!”

Well, well, well. Why the familiar tone, mon cherie? And who put so much “know” in your chuckle?

Feeling slightly discomfited, I tried to brush it off. AND I was going to get a smoothie instead of a coffee. Baby stepz, right? Everybody knows that smoothies throw a powerful antioxidant-vitamin hook kick to your immune system, especially if you add in a little flax seed and wheat germ and hair and who knows what else. There should be a “don’t ask, don’t smell” policy with smoothies, in my humble experience.

There is nothing innocent about the smoothie
photo courtesy of Flickr and rileyroxx

Anyway, it was a no-go. The place was out of bananas! No smoothies to be had. Not just by waywards on the mend, but by anyone!

Ok. Enter phase II of self-improvement sequence. Hot chocolate. Caffeinated but not nearly as much as an espresso one-two punch to the gullet. So I tried out that choice on our barista. Let’s call her SUPERMEAN.

SUPERMEAN is delighted with my hot cocoa choice. She doesn’t think I could’ve picked better. She’s convinced I’ve made some great decisions in life, but this is by far, the greatest. Good thing I didn’t tell her about the Java Minimization Program.

Anyway, then as I’m leaving, she really laid it on me, in this serenely snide tone, with a chipper “See you tomorrow!”

What the.

How dare she.

There was something so calmly all-knowing about those three little words that I could only sip my heavenly beverage and seethe into my steaming cup. Her tone and words were exactly the kind of cheeriness a drug dealer uses when completing a sale with a junkie. And not even a respectable junkie, but rather a junkie with bloated self-worth who’s suffering from delusions of trying to turn over a new (tea?) leaf.

PART II: CONSEQUENCES

Anyway, that was enough to convince me I have a problem. But of course, the best way to wean yourself off the brown ambrosia is, of course, to couple it with sleep deprivation and lots of it.

What better way to combat lowering your dosage of uppers than with a militaristic regimen of fatigue and insomnia?!

So to put it lightly, things have been a little off lately.

I had a minor panic attack when I had to tell the people at lunch to remake my pizza with green peppers instead of pepperoni.

And last night, when a dead fly fell out of one of my bags, I spent quite a bit of time looking up superstitions on dead flies. I also gave the fly a tiny and brief funeral.

I can’t focus on people’s faces when they’re talking.

…plus other assorted goodness, all brought to you by the Society for a Caffeine-Free ‘Parna.

Zombies outside an institution of coffee? How fitting!
photo courtesy of Flickr and atp_tyreseus

Of course, all the coffee drinkers I talk to think I am making a very bad decision, very bad indeed. The way they carry on about it, you’d think I didn’t know what I was doing!

(Haha. Joke’s on me.)

Back to the Withdrawing Board

(wise advice I could still take)
Try to be like the turtleā€”at ease in your own shell. ~Bill Copeland

I tried writing something today, but nothing really was coming to me. And sometimes forced writing is disciplined and admirable, but it’s not the kind of work that needs to be exposed to the public voluntarily.

So instead feast (punintended) your eyes on this conversation snippet (conversational emotional breakthrough):

Ok I lied. There is stuff going on with me. But it’s mostly summed up as this nonsense below:

(To be fair, boyfie is trying to turn me back into a healthy vitamin kid, but my body is still resenting him to hell-o for it. My withdrawal is straight out of the angsty years.)

Lastly, Oh, Hillo sent me this relaxation video, and I am now, fittingly, addicted to watching and listening to it. It’s a koi pond, incidentally also the mascot of the local Zen Buddhist High School!

(I can’t believe someone gave this video a 3-star rating. REALLY?! If I weren’t so darn relaxed and non-confrontational right now, I would do something about that.)

Setting the Bar(ista) for Service

Yesterday afternoon, I bought a weekend coffee so I could bask in the sun and sip it. No big deal. I went to a family-owned place with a nice patio outside for sitting and ogling other people’s dogs.

The barista was of fair-enough friendliness. She half-smiled at me as if we were acquaintances (not friends) and fulfilled all her responsibilities with no great fanfare. I didn’t get the feeling she thought much of me, but I couldn’t really tell either way.

But then! When she handed me my coffee, the following happened.

Barista (B): So it’s pretty nice outside today, huh?

Me (M): (jumping at the chance for brief human connection) Oh yes, it’s very nice outside.

B: I bet. I have been inside all day…(musing off into distance)…in fact, since 9 a.m.!

M: Aw, that’s too bad.

B: Yeah, and I have to work until 7 p.m.! (overworked pout) I’ve been working really hard.

M: Oh dear.

B: My father asked me if I would work today last week, but I didn’t know it was going to be so nice outside…

M: Yes yes.

B: And now, it’s work all day! And work all the time!

M: Ok, thank you.

I really didn’t know how to exit the conversation except to give her an understanding head tilt and warm puppy eyes while backing away slowly to imply earnest empathy for her situation.

But I felt like she wanted something more from me. Else why all the outpouring of gritty sentiments!

You guys, here’s what I think played out! She wanted me to regift her the coffee she just made me. It was really all I could offer her…besides my credit card again (as I am a non-cash-carrying buffoon).

Then she could add it to her vast pile of sympathy coffee cups (similar to the pile of bones giants have in their cave that make up a fond display of their past victims). And thus make the day worthwhile somehow.

I hope you like your espresso made via guilt drip.
photo courtesy of Flickr and gahdjun

But here’s what I did! Walked away without a smidgeon of external remorse!

Because I am more scared of customer servants than they are of me. An exception to the rule they probably learned in training. Be warned; I will bolt at the first sign of solidarity.

Also, aren’t most revolutions planned in coffee shops?! Free trade and all that.

The Drama Queen’s Understudy Makes Her Amateur Debut

I thought you guys should know. I reordered a specialty coffee drink yesterday.

Yup.

I got the first one.

It tasted heavily of ashes and chocolate water slightly mixed with a hint of mint.

I considered my unassertive options. I actually didn’t sample the brewed poison until I had vacated the vendor’s premises.

I realized I couldn’t afford two mid-priced luxury beverages in one day.

So I marched (more like tippytoed) back to the esteemed cafe, and I was all halfheartedly (as if it were out of my hands), “Something doesn’t taste right!” and they were all “We’re sorry! We’re sorry!” And then I was all “Not as sorry as I am!”

Then I tried to change my drink order to something simpler, but the owner insisted that the barista remake my original drink. Which I then tasted in front of the whole staff, beaming, thrilled at how impossibly good it was…(and the Oscar weiner for Best Supporting Overactress, in a Tragicomedy, goes to…)

But hey, standing up for myself without having to make jokes about it, wasn’t the end of me. I mean, I guess it was half bad, but it was half alright too. Insert witty half & half line here, and tie it in with coffee reference.

This is going to be me in a year. Block and punch, but verbally!
photo courtesy of Flickr and cheetah100

***

Today, continuing my aggressive streak, I almost took out a manchild on crutches.

Fittingly, he commented, “So sorry about that!”

Because he’s the one who was clearly an imposition on the door I flung open all wild and crazylike. Riiight.