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July 21, 2000
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Jill's Up The Hill
Oh my, can you imagine a whole week spent on the Rock? That's what Jill's
has done already, and she has two more fabulous weeks in the woods...
Coffee With Any One Vote
Here's your chance to vote for the male and female you would most like to
have coffee with. I am Jack's free will. We worked long and hard to compile a list that covers many tastes and styles of
person that might be the bomb to drink with.
I am Jack's power of the vote. This week, you vote in the Best Male
catagory.
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With Open Arms
Coffee Club would like to welcome Mr. Pants(no relation) to the front page.
He will be writing regularly, in his Bitter Bean column.
Please show your appreciation with a toast at your next coffee outing.
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The Daily Grind
Gather around kiddies. I am Jack's itchy trigger finger. I have a story to tell,
and it all starts with a snoot full of coffee dust.
Jack's been looking for a way to start his morning right. Jack's not very nice in
the morning. I am Jack's nasty demeanor. Jack doesn't like to talk or for that matter, doesn't like the
looks of you in general.
What Jack needs is a cup of golden brown nectar hot enough to burn his tongue.
What Jack needs is the intoxicating smell of a rich dark roast. What Jack needs is sweet, sweet caffeine
dancing on his taste buds.
I am Jack's past life. We covered the whole concept of a proper Maker the last
time around. Now we know how important it can be. What else is needed though? Beans you fool! But that my
friends is a given.
So you go to your favorite little coffee shop, and you ask the cute girl behind
the counter to grind up half a pound of Hawaiian Kona. You flash her a smile, hoping she'll be impressed
because you're buying the expensive stuff, but she's seen it before, so you move on before you make a fool
of yourself.
I am Jack's nose. Oh what an aroma, fresh ground beans. You rush your precious
cargo home and brew up a big pot. You pour the rest into an airtight container and store it in that special
spot you set aside in your fridge. Pansy boy!
Then the dream is over. Days later, your expensive, fabulous life giving grind just
doesn't have the juice anymore. Yah it still tastes great, but the life has slowly drained out of it. What
went wrong? Can anything be done? I am Jack's compendium of answers. Yes.
Jack has a coffee grinder. Now Jack buys beans and grinds them fresh everyday. Does
it make a difference? Absolutely you caffeine monkey! You can get that fresh ground flavour every time, just
by grinding beans at home.
The beans keep their flavour, and stay fresh longer. Your not releasing the essential
oils untill you grind them, which is the problem with long term storage of pre-ground. Now Jack drinks coffee
shop coffee at home. Now Jack is happy. Now Jack is a nicer person in the morning. So get yourself a home
grinder, you will thank yourself with every cup, and every sip of fresh ground brew.
I am Jack's big smile.
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy And Other Shit
You drink your coffee black not only because it tastes better that way,
but for fun. Fun because it reaffirms your belief that you are better than 99% of the rest of the world.
Fun because when you order it black, they almost always question you, "Just black?"
What you say: "Why yes, just black."
Translation: "What the fuck did I just say, you pathetic coffee-serving monkey?
What part of "black" did you not understand? Was it the "black" part? "
You are better than 99% of the rest of the world.
You are better than 99% of the rest of the world.
I am in a halfway decent coffee-shop/bookstore. It is my first visit; I
wander casually through the place, just killing some time. It's daytime during the week. Around me are a few
customers, engaged in coffee-chat with a friend or enjoying a quiet read in a cozy chair.
My eyes fall upon a solitary woman sitting in the corner at a small, high table.
She is drinking a tall, dark coffee and is wrapped in a sleek, black trench coat. Her legs are crossed
and seem to be daring themselves to slip further through the seam of the gabardine suit. When our eyes met,
I knew she had been watching me the whole time.
She smiled; I approached. "My name is Natasha. Meet me at
the Natural History section in five minutes - I want to show you something. We will not speak to each
other again."
I obeyed.
The Natural History section was in the back corner of the establishment,
with subdued lighting which cast itself nicely to bring out the warm woody tones of the shelving's
veneer. I wondered if it was a real wood veneer, and if it wasn't, then artificial veneering had
made huge strides over the years.
Natasha was already there, standing seductively in her long
overcoat, legs shoulder width apart. I, too, stood with legs askance, but only because I was housing
a boner the size of Florida in my trousers. We stood barely a meter apart, facing each other in hot
silence for what seemed like an hour but was probably more like fifteen seconds.
I blinked, she gave
up a shadow of a grin and began unbuttoning her trench coat, one bastard button at a time. She
opened it wide and what I saw next was better than a thousand Christmases: she was completely naked
under the coat with the exception of two #8 Melita cone filters (non-bleached) snuggly capped on
each breast.
Laughing gently under her breath, she buttoned up and walked away with her
heels tic-tacking down the hallway, leaving me still slack-jawed and frozen.
Mister Pants' Quest #1
Your humble narrator is on a quest to find the best cheap cup of coffee in the Toronto area.
And when I say cheap, I mean cheap!
Expensive coffee is NO challenge: a five-dollar cup of coffee better be good
and include, at the very least, the promise of a quick hand job.
I am nothing if not cheap, and will
gladly give your fine establishment a free plug in exchange for a sample of your delicious black
(yes, black) swill.
If this appears to be an attempt at getting a free cup of coffee, you're
absolutely right. But so will your plug be free. Hell I'll plug ya even if your coffee sucks.
Farewell until next time, gentle reader; that's all I have for this week,
my first contribution to the Coffee Club. Do come back again and feel free to send me your comments,
suggestions, stories, whatever. Gotta go, the coffee's on.
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SLICE OF CAKE
SINGLE SERVING FRIENDS
My take on this: single serving friends can take a flying fuck at the moon.
Why on
this earth would you start an inane conversation with a perfect stranger? I have a difficult enough time
dealing with inanities from my real friends, let alone some shmuck on a plane.
I don't want this pantsuit wearing old biddie beside me to be the last person I
have spoken to in the event of a crash.
Nosiree Bob. Let's cut the crap folks. I don't give a rat's ass
about you, and you sure as hell don't give one about me.
I am Jill's rapidly eroding patience. I don't want to know about your
job/grandchildren/surgery/vacation plans. And I know you aren't the least bit interested in mine.
My life is ending one second at a time, and I don't want to waste any of it talking to you.
I have a big bald head for a reason, people. Take note and back off.Let me
drink my ditch water aeroplane coffee in peace, for the love of god. 'Nuff said!
What desolation!
The scorching heat, the pelting rain
No ice coffee here.
J.J.-"So who would you have coffee with?"
MrC.P.J."Oh, I've been thinking about that. Winston Churchill."
J.J.-"Excellent. He rocks."
MrC.P.J-"Oh, no even better. Pierre Trudeau, Ex-Prime Minster of Canada."
J.J.-"Trudeau? Why?"
MrC.P.J-"He was cool, he was Canadian. He gave everyone the finger and he had a hot little hippy wife."
J.J.-"Yeah but Churchill won a war. What the hell did Trudeau do?"
MrC.P.J-"He was stylish! He could tell you how to dress."
J.J.-"Well then, he can have coffee with Gwen Stefani. I, on the other hand will have a big black cup of joe with Churchill"
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