Shortly over a decade ago, I was in Germany for the first time and thought a nutritous day’s intake of stuff included: cigarettes, coffee, alcohol, fried crap, squalor, some cheese and perhaps some ice cream and a Ritter Sport and some more ice cream and a cigarette. In the painful decade between now and then I have, for various and sundry reasons, given up, in this order: cigarettes, being messy, alcohol, dairy and sugar (the cigarettees sometime around 1995, the being-messy about 2001, the other three last November). I have also completely redesigned my diet and "workout lifestyle" to quasi-monastic parameters, and am now a kind of unholy Monk/Monica Gellar hybrid of anal-retentive-control-freaky-micromanaged FUN. Certain oversized alcoholic friends of mine have even accused me of belonging to the Women’s Christian Temperance Union (though I say: a brother like yours would drive *anyone* to the Women’s Christian Temperance Union!), and I realize that in my newly-non-intoxicated state I am not as much "fun" as I used to be. Though really I am a lot more "fun" on the inside–drinking made me feel depressed and dead inside and aggressive and prone to extremely bad decisions. Not to mention it gives you a big dumb gut and hangovers that cut into study time.
>>>INTERJECTION. Oh my God. There is currently an ad on the TV for a portable implanted defibrilator. Eat whatever you want and just zap yourself back to life, just like the Superfans. Da Bears indeed. See also, "idiocracy" comment below.<<<
Anyway, to sum up: I don’t drink anymore, and I realize this makes me almost-expellable from the Big Brainy Grad Student Decadents’ Club, but whatevs. The club’s officers were going to draft a manifesto to kick me out but they turned in a paper and got drunk instead. My point is, aside from merciless self-pushing and unreasonable expectations of myself, I don’t have any "vices" left (all right, Disneyland counts as a vice. A big one). Except one big, big ginormous one that will remain firmly in place for the rest of humanity: coffee. There’s this great old episode of NewsRadio where they parody "Titanic" (if any movie deserved it…melodrama AND a boat, what’s not to hate?) and Dave Foley is dying on a plank of lumber and all he can think about is coffee. That’s me. On my death bed I will probably a) yell at someone, b) make fun of someone inappropriately, c) attempt to paw my gentleman friend Professor Awesome (who will certainly be long-estranged or predeceased by then and yet I will find him for this express purpose), and d) ask for coffee. I have been in love with coffee since I was 13 or 14 years old and though I could probably switch to decaf and get a nice placebo going, the idea of quitting coffee is fairly terrifying to me. And yet, also enticing, since at one time or another I was simlarly enamored of cigarettes, alcohol, fried crap, dairy and sugar (and being messy). In this vein I attempted to de-coffify myself this past Sunday morn, when Prof. Awesome and I decided to hit the beach for a brief jaunt–or for what I thought was a brief jaunt, and thereby did not find it important to make some coffee before we left. The 8 minutes it would have taken to brew and drink it? Not worth it–it was a beautiful day. I ate an orange. Vitamin C wakes you up, right? Prof. Awesome doesn’t drink coffee and I bet he’s awake right this second. Fuck coffee! It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Jump cut to 2 hours later, as the Prof and I enjoy a delicious hippie lunch in Laguna Beach–so hippie, in fact, that the establishment does not serve coffee or anything else with caffeine in it. And here’s how this lunch went.
PROF. AWESOME: You know, Laguna’s pretty nice. I think I could live down here if I had to stay in the area. It’s even possible to find affordable housing. There are places to walk, etc…
ME: Uh huh (coffee coffee coffee oh my god please let there be coffee someday again soon).
PROF. AWESOME: Because only about two percent of scholars are at all "famous" and the rest of us toil in obscurity and that’s just fine with us.
ME: Seriously (much like I am toiling in the non-coffeedom of my current existence, which I cannot fathom I have deserved even with my nebulous history of misdeeds to humanity)
PROF. AWESOME: I enjoy eating Christian babies.
ME: Sure, sure, yeah, exactly (I’d like to dry a Christian baby out in the sun, grind it down and run some hot water through it to make Christian Baby Coffee is what I’d like to do).
So, for those of you at all worried that I am going to turn into some sort of sanctimonious fuckface with no "flaws" (except all the other ones), rest assured that my tiny experiment with caffeine withdrawal was pretty impressive and for the good of humankind I don’t plan on attempting it again anytime soon. Now get that devil’s liquor out of my face and go alphabetize your clothes, you degenerates.