Home Go
27 October 1998
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Home Go
27 October 1998
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Snack! today was biscotti and coffee, which I didn't go rushing for as I drink enough coffee on my own, thanks, and who needs biscotti when you have donuts? But later on this evening, when I went to go get the evening's refill - another great thing about Donut World, their large coffee is - I saw that they had also brought in a couple of bottles of Torani syrup. I've never used this much, I dunoo, just not excited about the idea of putting blueberry syrup in my coffee. The flavor that was left tonight was Irish Cream, and since there wasn't any half&half, as usual, I figured What the hey. So I poured in a shot.
I'm walking back to my desk and take a sip. Whoah!! That's fuckin' whiskey! Surprising, but not actually such a bad idea now that I think of it.
Except, of course, it's not whiskey. There isn't even any real sugar in this, it's NutraSweet®. But it tastes like whiskey, and somehow they've got it to do that heat-in-the-throat thing that you get from actual alcohol. (When I say it tastes "like" whiskey, I mean only in a very vague sense, and only because it's in coffee. I'm not that much of a philistine.) This raises the interesting question - if I hadn't bothered to check, would I have gotten drunk?
"Mmmmmmmmm! That's good placebo!"
My office crush is working awfully late, but at least it's because she's in a geeked-out data coma and not because she's writing a mission statement or doing a budget or anything horribly official like that. I do have a certain standard when it comes to imagined relationships, after all.
That's about it. Been awfully damn cheerful today, no special reason. Not complaining, me.
Postscript: On further reflection, that Torani syrup doesn't taste anything like whiskey. Furthermore, it's got a truly foul aftertaste, like chewing on old tires - about what you would expect from anything that uses NutraSweet®. Well, about what I would expect, anyway. How people can stand to drink diet soda amazes me.
Also, I should make it clear that when I talk about my office crush, it has no relation to any kind of real-world expectation. It's like those fantasy baseball leagues. It's a fun game, talking about acquiring or getting rid of this player or that. But nobody who plays it is saving up money to buy out Barry Bonds' contract. (I actually know almost nothing about fantasy baseball leagues, so if I have mischaracterized them here, I'm sorry. Not very sorry, but a little. Doomo sumimasen.)
On an unrelated note - I just heard the coolest thing on the jazz radio station. "I belong to the Beat Generation / And everything is doing just fine." In a syllable-for-syllable match to the famous-to-me Richard Void song, Blank Generation! Wow. Historical roots. I can take it or leave it each time. So stop calling me Boomer, sonny.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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