You know, sometimes I wonder if I drink too much coffee. And then I just say "Nah, fuck it" and pour myself another cup.
One of the first things I do every workday morning, after I, of course, wake up, is to load up my coffee maker, which I also like to call my "Christian Crank Lab™", and get that fresh brewed aroma to completely permeate my apartment. After my workout, shower and breakfast, it's time to slam down my minimum two cups with just enough speed to efficiently mainline the caffeine into my system without giving myself second degree mouth burns in the process.
When the time gets tight and I have to get off my ass and go to work, I fill up a travel mug and pour the excess leftover in my cup for one last slurp before I head in. Once I'm settled in on the job, I sip on my java until about 2 1/2 hours later, when I go back home for a very short break. At this point I'll finish my mug, wash it, and usually switch to water and also drink some juice later in the day.
In reality, I'm not as much of a coffee junkie as I used to be. I don't usually drink it at night very often anymore. I also don't really go for the four dollar mochas like I used to and I've even stopped drinking caffeine loaded soda. My decision to quit dark soda (i.e. cola) was part of a successful experiment to stop the frequent sleep-interrupting acid reflux attacks I was having (and my esophagus, and unexpectedly, my bowels as well, have been thanking me ever since). So I figure that I might as well have some kind of indulgence and/or vice in my life, or otherwise some fuckers will want to crucify me sooner or later.
(IMPORTANT NOTE OF GUIDANCE: This post is but one in a series called THE MUNDANE MONTH OF BLOGGING™. For those of you who are scratching your head right now and saying to yourselves, "What the fuck is he trying to prove?", Click Here, Pilgrim)
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