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Dec 22, 2000
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Merry Holidays and Happy New Year
Coffee Club Online welcomes you to our ever so entertaining holiday
issue. We hope that you will enjoy it as much as we did putting it together.
Oh who we kidding. We're couch jockeys , and barely managed to do this
bit of fluffy you see before.
Still, in the spirit of the holidays, we wish you all a fab-o holiday season,
and may your shovel always cut, and your back never break.
Read on!
Recipes!!
Hey there boys and girls.
We here at Coffee Club understand completely that your culinary skills go just far enough to let
you grind up some beans, add water and hit the on button. Hell, you think we do any better? We're
just glad boiling water is so easy to make.
In an effort to ease all our lives, we've put together some recipes. Some we have
tried and can vouch for, some we have not.
Take a look, you might find something yummy to add
to your holiday fun.
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A Holiday Tale
T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was
stirring, not even a mouse. Except for me that is cause I'd been drinking coffee and plenty of it. This
year I'd be damned if I'd miss the fat man doing the chimney trick. Some places they pay extra for that.
My eyes glazed, and I blinked away the thin film on my eye ball. It was well passed
midnight, heading on to about 4am. Still no sign of the bugger. Was he leaving my tree for last? Maybe he
wanted me to fall asleep. No chance of that, not with a thermos full of joe.
I heard a sound, it was a creaking. A creaking in the rafters, could it be? Maybe
that was the sleigh setting down on the roof. I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. My head snapped
straight. If it was him, he was waiting too, most likely till I went off to dream land.
False alarm. The minute hand on my watch crept past the six. My gaze fell on the side
table, there waiting for him was a glass of milk and some cookies. The milk warm, and the cookies stale and
hard. He never ate them, but we still put them out.
Sugar plums danced in my head. Then I heard the sounds of sleigh bells. I put down my
mug and went to the window. There in the sky, under the glow of the moon, my water eyes made out a miniature
sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. I swore under my breath.
Then in the twinkle of the Christmas tree lights, I heard on the deer touchdown on
the roof. The sound of hoofs scares me to this day. In an effort not to wet my pants, and to hide I tripped
over the coffee table, rolled across the floor and stumbled behind the sofa. I looked up at the ceiling and
followed the sound of footsteps to my fireplace.
Then in a flash, as I peered over my sofa, a big fat man in a red suit appear. Man,
the fat bastard was big. Big and red. I can totally understand the bowl full of jello thing. I thought about
this, as he unloaded his red sack. Then he turned, walked passed the milk and cookies and vanished up the
chimney.
At this point, I laughed. I couldn't help myself. I just laughed and laughed and
laughed. They found me the next morning curled up like a baby, behind the sofa. I can't say it was the best
Christmas I've ever had, but I can say, Santa is one freaking fat bastard!
Happy holidays my friends.
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy
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White Christmas ( Or: Hooray for Poochie! )
It was Christmas Eve, and Janet stood in the doorway of her beautiful dining room, nervously tweeking the edges
of her bright red and surprisingly spotless Happy Christmas & Merry New Year! cooking apron. She scanned
the room and couldn't help smiling as she said aloud to herself, "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!
"Ya, easy for you to say... you didn't just spend two hours on the roof with a pair of wire-cutters up
Santa's plastic ass trying to get the goddamn light-flasher working!"
It was her husband. "Keith!" Janet snapped, "Don't use that kind of language! It's Christmas, for Chrissake!"
"Sorry honey..." Keith said automatically as he took off his boots and hung up his coat. He ambled over to her
and gave her a playful pat on her bum as he asked "How 'bout a kiss?" "Oh, you!" Janet chuckled. She turned and
kissed without contact; just the air by his cheek. "Makeup, honey!"
Keith nodded and went to the kitchen to make a hot cup of coffee. Janet resumed her perusal of the dining room, still beaming.
There was the holly & ivy around the fireplace, the tree off in the distance in the living room with exactly the right
balance of popcorn streamers and tinsel, the lavishly decorated table, the centerpiece that little Becky made, the
good wedding silverware, the thrice-used British stoneware, and of course, nestled nice and centered at each setting:
the cleverly alternating red and green and white Christmas Crackers. That's when she realized the disaster that had struck.
It was the cleverly alternating red and green and white Christmas Crackers. Sure they were clever, but they weren't
alternating! There were eleven place settings, meaning that there was a red followed by a green after
the eleventh setting! She started to shake but collected herself and whispered them out : "Red, green, white, red, green,
white, red, green, white, red, green... RED! She was livid. "SHIT! This is just fucking perfect! We might as well be
having Christmas dinner at the fucking Olive Garden!"
Janet had one extra white cracker, but only eleven places at the table and nobody else to invite on such short notice.
This would not do. Try as she might, she couldn't arrange the crackers in an order that wasn't out
of sequence, and started to sob. Keith walked in to see what all the ballyhoo was about and she told him her dilemma.
He mentioned something about eleven being a prime number and would only form a pattern with one or eleven differently
coloured crackers and went back to the kitchen to have another cup of Joe.
Just then little Becky came in with the family dog, Poochie. "Mommy, I wish Poochie could have Christmas dinner with us
instead of sleeping in the doghouse all night like last year!" Janet felt the warm swell of divine inspiration as she
heard little Becky's words. "Oh, he can, Becky, he can...!"
Later that night, as everybody took their places at the table, Janet made a toast: "To the best Christmas ever!"
Compliments spewed from the guests about how beautiful everything was. Janet smiled graciously as she looked over at the
new twelfth spot at the end of the table where Poochie sat, licking his genitals. The twelfth spot with a white
Christmas Cracker on the plate.
Peace on earth and good will to you all.
Farewell until next time, gentle reader. Do come back again and feel
free to send me your comments, suggestions, stories, whatever. Gotta go, the
coffee's on. "Hallelujah! Noel! Be it heaven or hell: the Christmas you get, you deserve."
Edward Pants, Esq.
In life's coffee bag, be the bitter bean.
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Jill's Yuletide Cheer
Top 5 Things That Suck About Christmas
5. Fruitcake. What the fuck?
4. Assholes who throw the gifts you bought them back in your face, or toss them into the trash in front
of you. Miserable ingrates who can't appreciate the enormous time and effort you went through to try and
find something that they'll like, but because they're bitter jerks who hate everything anyhow, you needn't
have even bothered trying to purchase something for them.
3. Drunkles and Smants. Jack's translation: Drunk uncles and smoking aunts. Swooping down like vultures on
Christmas Day and ritualistically angering and humiliating each and every member of the family until it's one
big crapfest of tears and smashed crockery.
2. Dead trees as far as the eye can see. The glass slipper of our generation. Loved intensely for a week,
a day, then tossed into the garbage to rot.
1. Christmas carols. Okay, Jingle Bells is alright, particularly the more popular ‘Batman Smells' version.
And even Silent Night isn't so bad. But it's Frosty the Snowman that sticks it to me. "And he waved goodbye
saying ‘Don't you cry, I'll be back again some day.'" When, Frosty, when? I've been waiting more than two
decades now. You lying bastard. Just like every other man in my life. I hate you.
Top 5 Things That Rock About Christmas
5. Suddenly it's okay for everyone to gorge on lovely gobs of chocolate.
4. Toys. Shiny pretty dollies and superheroes with removable tights.
3. Sitting in a café drinking a steamy creamy caffeinated concoction, watching all the slack jawed troglodytes on the other side of the glass struggle through the slush as they balance twenty seven bags of loot for ungrateful relatives. Ah, Christmas.
2. Suddenly it's okay for everyone to drink lots and lots of alcohol. Even your mother gives you booze.
1. Getting your stocking stuffed. And you can take that anyway you like.
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