My caffienated overlord shall be appeased!

I was at the dentist recently, and on the patient form I filled out in the reception area, the form asked if I wanted to learn how I could have a whiter smile. I think it may have said "more professional smile," but the idea of tooth color having a damn thing to do with professionalism is so absurd to me I think my brain MUST have invented that one on its own.

I scoffed and checked no because there is no way possible I'll ever have white teeth. I drink enough coffee every morning to drown a whale. It's a total trade off--white teeth and sleeping in class, or alertness and a maize-hued grin. I've come to terms with the latter. There's no reason to fight it. My husband drinks more coffee than I do, so we will just have matching teeth, which will go perfectly with our matching cat sweaters and bucket hats when we totally lose our marbles.

That will be a beautiful sight, two old people, in cat sweaters and bucket hats, with poop brown teeth, swigging coffee. Perhaps spiked with whiskey. When you're old people will probably give you a pass for being perpetually inebriated.

But I digress.

I've run across many people who have been trying to kick their caffeine habits. I suppose getting a headache whenever you don't give in to the black, bitter goodness of joe kinda sucks, I guess. I wouldn't know--I don't go without the substance long enough to suffer from any sort of withdrawals.

I don't think my advice to a meth addict suffering without getting his or her fix daily would be "well shoot, if it sucks to go without just pump your veins full of more!" But I guess I feel caffeine addiction is pretty innocuous and I'm not condemning myself to wandering shirtless and toothless through grocery stores in my middle age if I don't give it up.

My biggest problem with coffee is if I order it at a restaurant. At home I portion control myself--I make about half a pot, and I have to leave the comfort of my computer chair to get more, so after a while it just gets cold and I don't want it anymore. When I'm at a restaurant I can drink like fifty cups because a good waitperson will fill it up over and over and over and I'll keep drinking it over and over and over until my left eye begins to twitch uncontrollably and my fingers continually tap the beat of "shave and a haircut."

But at least I'm getting my $1.50 worth of water filtered through bean dirt.I probably raise the water bill of every breakfast establishment I patronize. That's okay because I don't think two eggs, some potatoes, and tube-shaped pig ass is really worth $9.

I'm kind of a weenie when it comes to coffee too. When I'm at home I'm all bad ass, like, "I like my coffee BLACK like my SOUL" and I pound down five cups of unadulterated Columbian. If I go to Starbucks or any other coffee shop type place and get a regular cup of black coffee, I think it tastes like burnt ass and I yearn for flavored creamers. THEY HAVE NONE. They're like, man, this is the real stuff. You want to taste this stuff. All we have is sugar and powdered shit that doesn't cover up anything. YOU ARE AN UNWASHED RUBE IF YOU DO NOT ENJOY THIS BURNT-ASS-LIKE FLAVOR.

I totally cannot deny my rubeishness, and I won't. I only like my coffee black if it's weak enough to not make my taste buds vomit in unison.

Well, I am no longer under the influence of coffee at the time of writing this, so I've run out of inspiration. Now I'm under the influence of Long Island Iced Tea and that's a horse of another color. Maybe I shall pontificate upon that at some point. Same Bat Channel, Same bat Time.