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Feb. 9, 2001
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Can You Write?
Oh we know you can read, at least we lean very heavily in that direction. We figure if you can't
read then you'll never see this anyways.
We at Coffee Club Online love bringing you fab-O issue after issue of a swell ezine. We also love
that you enjoy reading it. It do warm the cockles. Sometimes im sure you too wish that you could
be having this much fun with your cloths on and now's your chance.
We'd like to extend an invitation to anyone for coffee inspired writings. It don't have to be lots of
words, just take a look at how much we write. If you are interested, and would like to contribute
some of your rantings and ravings, please send it in.
Send to jack@coffeeclubonline.com
Free Coffee?
Jack peers out at the freshly fallen foot of snow. He's mind on the first cup of coffee, he
notices the postmen delivering his mail.
What does Jack find in his mail box? A smallish yellow envelope, from parts unknown. Deftly
he tears it open and out falls a packet of ground coffee!
Yay!!
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It's About The Heart
Oh, has another two weeks gone by already? What was Jack thinkin, or for that matter doing that he
didn't see the time pass. I am Jack's work bone. Yup, you might think that Jack's all play and no work, but you'd be wrong.
Wronger then a three-eyed toad with a penchant for gummie bears.
Then, my pal of the Bitter Bean reminds me that Valentines day is around the corner. If only I had
been paying attention. Gosh this issue would have smelled all nice and flowery. It woulda been full of fabulous advice, just
like Mr Pant's has provided. Instead, it'll be a weak attempt at capitalizing on a good idea.
I am Jack's misfiring neurons. No matter what you heard, Jack's got some light up inside his somewhat
hard head. Once in a while, Jack gets a bit of genius that can only be described as devine. This ain't one of those times.
So onward brave shoulder, into the unknown.
You say your stuck without a Valentines?(Jack is excepting any cards you'd like to send, mail to
jack@coffeeclubonline.com , least you can pretend to have one.) Forget
wine and dinner, that's so old fashion, though still a good one. Give yourself a fighting chance with a low key
afternoon rendezvous, over coffee.
You'd think this don't work as well as booze, and you'd be wrong. Wronger then a Koala bear with
travelers cheques. Caffeine is the worlds most popular stimulant, and its legal and uncontrolled. Can you beat that? Nope,
not even with a gold plated baseball bat! So, you see how good you got it?
You put enough caffeine in em, and it'll be bye-bye to common sense, and we all know that without
common sense, you have a shot, monkey-boy! Then there is the satisfaction of knowing that it won't kill em, with plenty of
statistical research to back up that claim. Give or take a few heart attacks, but then again, isn't the heart what its all
about? Throw in some chocolaty treat(you in bon bons?), and you have a knock-out combination of inebriant and aphrodisiac.
I am Jack's continuous high. That's right, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm probably
completely wrong. Wronger then a Playboy playmate in a tub full of Vaseline. No wait, that's a good thing isn't it?
So, if you see old Jack passin by, lift a hand and say hi. Maybe, if your lucky, I'll sit a spell
and we can chat about old times over a super fine cup of hot creamy sweet coffee. If you're extra lucky, you may be on Jacks
list next Valentines day.
Happy St.Valentines day kiddies.
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy
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Who loves ya, baby!
Hello again, kind reader! That dreaded Valentine's day is coming up, and in
addition to the big, wet, sloppy, farty kiss that I send you from the bottom
of my speedily beating, cholesterol-choked heart, I thought I'd pass along a
couple of little romantic-like tips for that special someone in your sad little
life.
Your humble narrator - despite what appearances and rumours may
suggest - has been known to acquaint himself with the fairer sex on occasion,
and even charm the pants off one or two outside of a bet or a dare! So have
a look and try these out for size, my little love-monkeys!
Loves me!
OK. You're smitten with that special someone, and, being the fine aesthete
I just know you are, you demand something special for your special something.
Chocolate - although tasty and easy on the skin when heated and poured onto
naked & quivering flesh - is just too traditional and predictable. Traditional
and predictable are not what we're about, right? Right. We love coffee. We love
candy. We love coffee candy.
So check this out, my sweeties: KOPIKO
coffee candies. These little babies are THE SHIT! They are chock-full of
the tasty-tastes of coffee, sugar, and caramel. Maybe even a little smack thrown
in for good measure. I really don't know: all the labeling is Indonesian, with
the exception of the curious and mildly ominous warning:
(Which reminds me: take note not to buy the ones meant for export - they are
not the same thing. Like breasts, it's gotta be the real thing for me.)
If you're lucky, you can find some in a couple of your local Chinatown grocers'
shops, right there between the giant bottles of 27% glucose-drink and the jars of
dried smelts-in-aspic.(If you can't locate these gems, contact me here
at Coffee Club, and I'll hook ya up with the sweet-stuff. I'm yo' pusha, baby!)
Hear me now: nothing says "I'm so sweet for ya, baby!"
like a bag of illegally imported, high-octane candies, shared by candlelight in
a cozy bed and chased with a pot of tarry java and about a liter of espresso ice-cream.
And if you don't have anybody to share these with, just stick one in every orifice
of your body, lay back and get ready for the ride of your life as the osmosis starts
workin'.
Loves me not!
Valentines Day is probably the nastiest day to end a relationship that just
doesn't got that swing anymore. Birthdays are good, Christmas is OK, too,
but V-Day is pretty harsh and is the choice of rat-bastards everywhere. But maybe
you just don't know how to break it off.
A nice gift that has the pretense of
thoughtfulness and falls just short in the quality & taste departments is
always a nice hint. At the very least, it'll push your significant other to start
thinking about dropping you like the hot, peanutty turd that you probably are.
And hey, nothin' wrong with that - saves you some effort.
So here it is, fresh
from the memories of your parents' pantry: a nice bag of Eight O'Clock Coffee.
Give this to your not-so-Valentine and enjoy the next few months alone with a bag of
coffee candies and some butter.
Note that I had to buy this goddam
bag of Eight-O-Clock Coffee for this article, so I'm gonna stretch out this mild
novelty and actually brew it up and share the experience with you
next issue...
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.
" Ahhhhhhhh, love t' love ya, baybeh! "
Edward Pants, Esq.
In life's coffee bag, be the bitter bean.
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Jill Gets Phat
Vietnamese espressos with condensed milk. Mochacinnoes with whipped cream. Coolie Iglesiases with
shaved white chocolate, Bovinity Divinity Ice Cream. It is with no little dismay that Jill realized these sweet treats were
heading straight for her ass and thighs.
Initially, like any modern western woman, Jill was upset and vowed immediately to head for a gym
and drink naught but black coffee from now on. She raved and cussed and tried desperately to squeeze her pants shut over
her cream puff tummy. Then after a few stiff drinks and a lot of sex, Jill came to her senses. Fuck it, say I.
Life is a short trip without a suitcase as it is. Might as well dig in those spoons and savor
what yumminess there is on this benighted earth. Jill won't be a patsy for the Cosmo- reading, stiletto -wearing crowd.
And for gods sake, doesn't Jill have more important stuff to think about?
Now I'm not saying you should eat from a trough and end up washing yourself with a rag on a stick,
but for the love of humanity, you should be able to put a little cream in the coffee now and again without agonizing about
the size of your thighs. Selfimprovement is masturbation, so they say, and wouldn't you rather be having sex than jacking off?
So dig into that brownie, bring on the full fat lattes. Mummus all around, baby. Beauty is not
in the number of ribs you can count with your fingers, it's in the bottom of a tub of New York Super Fudge Chunk.
C.P.J-"So who would you have coffee with?"
J.J.-"Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise! Just to watch the cake fly."
C.P.J-"Like you didn't see that break up coming a mile away."
J.J.-"No, they were supposed to be togethah forevah."
C.P.J-"I am so sure. Industry rumour has it that they
were both gay, and just stayed together for the kids and for the sake of their careers."
J.J.-"He's gay, totally, but I don't think she is. And she is so hot."
C.P.J-"Oh, come on! It would be a travesty if she didn't have hot
lesbian sex. She should be running naked in the woods like some nymph, all nubile and such."
J.J.-"Rolling around in the dirt."
C.P.J-"More like propped up against a tree. I have no idea what I mean by that. "
J.J.-"Meanwhile he'd be skipping about tra la la."
C.P.J-"That's right. Dropping rose petals all around her feet."
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