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Jan. 12, 2001
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New Years Coffee Orgy
We try very hard to get you the hard facts. The real issues and items that effect all coffee
drinkers.
Once in a while, we get carried away. Yah, we could say it was an experiment, or we could call
it research for an article. In a way it was both of these things.
Still, at least you don't have to find out for yourself. We did it for you, see what happens
when there is way to much coffee and cake. I mean...more then should be legally allowed.
Do not operate heavy machinery!!!
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Brand New Year
As I sit here fighting with BPV ( Benign Positional Vertigo), I wonder what the new
year will be like without some sickness fogging the view. Jack's been sick, and so has our beloved Bitter
Bean, Mr Pants. Actually, quite a few people round here have been down for the count.
Oh it was grand, with the sore throat and the stuffed up head. The continuous tap
like running of my nose. How I wish a simple rubber washer would fix a dripping nose, much like it fixes a
dripping faucet. It doesn't really work like that at all. I waited it out, with copious doses of Tylenol to
kill the pain from the pressure in my skull.
It lasted about 5 days and I was back to normal. I had no idea how much time I spend
breathing through my nose. You only really find out when its not working, but it too had returned to normal
and I could sleep now too! Yay.
Then I got me some vertigo. No I didn't order it on the net. I was spending some time
at the Pant's abode and on my way out I noticed if I moved my head quickly I felt the room spin and I could
not balance properly. It didn't improve the next day, so off to the clinic to see what's that matter.
Benign Positional Vertigo. Gee don't feel so benign to me. My doctor sent me to
another doctor that administered a special technic. I think he learned it in the dark ages just after they
taught him how to use the thumb screws and the rack. Whatever he did left me feeling nauseous, but now I
didn't get vertigo when I moved my head fast. I guess it'll go away now. Yay!
The year gets off to a bang with plenty of flu and weirdness. Still, it might be an
idea to get this stuff out of our system early. Jack already finds it difficult enough to get out of bed on a
good day, I'd hate to have these ne the norm. On top of that, Coffee Club suffers, and you as a reader suffer,
cause I'm a whiner.
I think that we will be returning to normal programming very shortly, and as promised
Coffee Club Online will be expanding. We want to offer more to our reader, so that you have more to read. More
articles, more reviews and maybe if we can swing it, we'll try and bring you hard to find products. Mainly
though, we gonna write.
Enjoy!
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy
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CAN-CON CAN'T
Hello and happy new year, kind reader! How's it all
working out for you? The new year, I mean.
I spent the last two weeks teetering between the engaging and entertaining company of witty & attractive
friends and the insufferable inferno of viral influenza. I lost a week of my life, and was deprived of
my ability - nay, my right - to drink coffee during this time. But I am nursing myself back to a healthy
coffee-drinking bastard again, and will be bringing you reviews and insights on some delightful
coffee-related items I acquired over the holidays! Until then, here's a true story that happened
a couple of weeks ago...
Lawrence flicked his pompadour with a brisk head nod: up and back to the left. It was a dude's cold outside,
and he was certain that the touque he secretly removed before entering the Indigo Bookstore & Cafe
had left his hair dancing the electrostatic watusi. He ran his fingers through his raven locks a couple of
times to be sure, leather sleeve fringes swaying like dozens of tiny whips.
He approached the counter and ordered a tall black coffee and took a seat in the corner where he poured
a health gob of Bailey's Irish Cream from a hip flask into his coffee. He leaned over to the next table and
grabbed an Olsen Twins Teen-Zine and had a seat as he ogled the track-suited girls at a table a few
feet away. They were reading a fashion magazine with Madonna on the cover. "Yah, girls, gonna dress you
up in MY love! Heh-heh..."
Enjoying a small chuckle, Lawrence looked away and across to the Wall
of Canadiana: splattered across a giant wall were the names of assorted heroes of Canadian music, art
and writing. He read the names over and over, furrowing his brow so much by the fourth time, his HEAD
was CRAMPING. He dropped his head to the table.
"Mutherfuckers!" he said, first under his breath, then a
full blown yell after bolting upright. The place went quiet. "What?!" he shouted at the onlookers.
Nobody said anything. "Look at this bullshit!" he continued, pointing to the wall. "I mean Bob and
fucking Doug McKenzie are up there! Where the hell am I? I mean I do have six albums!
Peter Gabriel's band played on my albums! I smoked a peace pipe with Jon Anderson! I'm a classically
trained pianist! CLASSICALLY TRAINED, I SAY!"
You could hear a fly fart in that bookstore.
Now standing
on the coffee bar, exasperated and sweating, Larry screamed, long and slowly, "(YOU'RE A) STRANGE FUCKING
ANIMAL!?" He sighed heavily, clambered down from the bar, grabbed his coffee and muttered his way out of
the bookstore. "Who the hell was that guy?" asked Christine, the new girl working behind the cake counter.
Her friend Kathy, replied, "I dunno, but he comes in and does the same thing every week!"
Later that afternoon, four friends walked into the Indigo Bookstore & Cafe, ordered some coffee &
cupcakes and took a seat behind the coffee bar. As they perused the Wall of Canadiana, one of them
was heard to say, "Hey, how come Gowan's not up there...?"
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.
" These moonlight desires haunt me. They want me! "
Edward Pants, Esq.
In life's coffee bag, be the bitter bean.
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Calling Spacemonkey! Come in Spacemonkey
I am Jill's crimson blush. It has come to my attention that I might have frightened the lovely and
talented Mr. Joel Bissonette.
Joel must understand that although Jill has always found him both
fascinating and panty wettingly hot, she does not in any way obsess (much) about lost opportunities,
and has no desire whatsoever to either stalk him or boil his bunnies, metaphorically speaking.
Joel,
our favourite space monkey, must understand that Jill exaggerates for `literary`
purposes. That Jill's
girlish fannish glee is a wee bit overstated. However, Jill would love the opportunity to interview the
hottie Joel for our readers here at the Coffee Club.
So dear Joel, if you read this piece, you can reach
me at jitteryjill@coffeeclubonline.com.
And no, Jill doesn't live on a farm, and, alas, Joel, you never did see my breasts.
C.P.J.-"So who would you have coffee with?"
J.J.-"Benicio Del Toro. Yes indeed. He was so hot in that film."
C.P.J-"Way of the Gun? "
J.J.-"Yes, especially the bit where he's crawling in the dirt with his ass up in the air. I just want to lick him"
C.P.J-"Salma Hayek. Now there's someone you should be licking."
J.J.-"No, I don't want to lick her. She's hot, but she wouldn't have that sweaty salty man taste."
C.P.J-"No, she'd be sweet and flaky, like a pastry."
J.J.-"Flaky all right."
C.P.J-"No seriously, lick Salma Hayek. She's like a cream puff."
J.J.-"I'll stick to Benicio, he's a serious hottie."
C.P.J-"Say..why don't you ever crawl around in the dirt with your ass in the air??"
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