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Coffee Club Remote
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Sick For Home
I am Jill's painful coffee withdrawal. Having sampled coffee from every
institution in this town, I have this to say about that.
I WANT TO GO HOME!
It isn't that I can't
brew my own. Oh, no. But why would I want to when I can go to a cozy establishment and be waited upon
like the princess that I am? So, props for all the free refills folks, but learn to brew a cup first.
I've been to the Electric Café, which is in fact a greasy spoon. I don't know
why they try to trick patrons with a goofy name like that into believing that they are in fact a café.
The entire place reeks of french fries and they only have one type of coffee. Liquid crap.
I've been to Chatters Corners, where the coffee was served in styrofoam and
cream cost ten cents a squirt. I have been to every dirty little dive in town with the same results.
It all tastes like shit, and refills are free.
Service was abominable, aside from that hottie at the Corner Bistro, and Jill is
hugely unimpressed. It isn't that I am not getting caffeine, that isn't the point. It is that I am
pining for the whole experience. The witty banter, the luscious cakes, the dazzling array of liquids
to cool your coffee with. The comfy couches and the obsequious counter sluts. I am Jill's overwhelming
homesickness.
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