Coffee is No Joke

I. just told me he read that coffee prevents diabetes. Very cool. All I have to do now is to continue imbibing and I can stay fat. Yeehaw.

Joe's Fault

I've developed the bizarre, rather ghettofabulous habit of cutting out the fragrance strips from fashion magazines and collecting them. The problem is, none of them smell good on me, maybe because my blood is too acidic from drinking too much coffee. There we go with the coffee again. It always comes down to Joe, Joe, Joe.

Jonesing for Joe

Sometimes I feel compelled to state the obvious, such as that I'm addicted to coffee and the painfully reasonable reasons for knowing this:

1. First thought in morning: coffee. Second thought: Milan needs milk. Third thought: Shit, but I need coffee first. Fourth thought: but poor Milan! Guilty conscience ensues...

2. Fifth thought after first latte with lots of foam and cinnamon made by loving husband and which is so substantial, one ought to think it would suffice for a week: Man, I feel like this didn't even have caffeine in it. Asks: Are you sure you put coffee in mine or did you hog it all for yours? Hubby insists there was lots of coffee in latte. Grumpily makes a pot of coffee. 2 Cups.

3. Buys coffee con leche at daycare.

4. Gets to work and makes coffee.

5. 2 p.m. doubes over with stomachache, coffee-induced.

6. Has another sip.

Traffic School

Traffic School sucks. But at least I can blog in a blankie sipping espresso instead of sitting in a popcorn-ceilinged office swishing stale coffee in a styrofoam cup, aging ten years and listening to bad jokes. But it does suck, and I wonder if I've used up my good cop karma.

Coffee Enema?

I wonder where I could get a coffee enema? I think there's a place in Palm Springs, but somewhere closer to home would be nice. Losing weight is not the primary motive. Of course I do want to lose weight, but I really just want to get the yuck out. And since I love coffee so much, I thought it might be a good match.

Guilty Pleasures

Shoulder pads on the other hand can be way cool. But why am I thinking so much about fashion? Why am I not thinking about preschools and vitamins and baby wipes and bottle feeding? What happened? Am I maybe becoming my shallow, materialistic (vs. maternal) self again? Have two years of intense work in the Zen school of Dr. S. accomplished nothing? Case in point: $20 dollar exercise class at glam studio followed by shoe shopping at Zara and an overpriced Latte at Le Pain Quotidien, while stowing M. away at daycare. And he was clinging to me leg this morning. Can we say GUILT?

Nothing Comes to Mind

Without O.D.ing on coffee my mind is a different creature altogether. But the calm sea also breeds lethargy. Lukewarm waters a la Med aren't conducive to creativity. Or are they? I suppose I could write in a villa on Cap d'Antibes. But I'm craving a cold shock to rouse the senses, to stir the cerebral mass, to cook a novel or two. Impressed by the economy of style of Chandler and Rand. But even that thought doesn’t lead very far. Bumps into the kitchen cabinets and dirty laundry and pizza pieces strewn on the dining room floor. A toddler really is an immense brain drain. And I want to kill the person who recently wrote "motherhood is a state of grace."

Friends Again

A nice cup off coffee with D. who popped over and brought Belgian chocolates and stories of Prague Spring ('68), David Bowie in Berlin and Maurice Sendak took care of that shiteous feeling. I feel so much better. I deleted A's voicemail without listening to it. I wash my hands off everything.

Just a Lazy Saturday

I really didn't need another "LA = Hell" book, but here I am waist deep in "I'm Losing You," and only half a box of Ritz Crackers and two cups of coffee eased the pain of chore whores, frequent fisting and pedophilia. Why am I reading it just when I'm going off antidepressants? And why does it feel so dated? (Snapple, Victoria Principal for chrissake---I'm lucky I even remember her). It's definitely no Day of the Locust---yet still it was somehow befitting by comatose state on the couch today. It's the kind of day when I cannot bear music or looking in the mirror, so bring on the Babylon.

Have you hallucinated today?

People who take in the caffeine equivalent of three cups of coffee (or seven cups of instant) are more likely to hallucinate, a new study suggests. Today, I heard people singing in my right ear. It wasn't the Beatles. More like a Target commercial. The study also said that it is possible that the association between caffeine intake and hallucinations was due to the fact that people who are prone to associations tend to use caffeine to help them cope with their experiences, such as having a 15-month-old scream and whine all day.