Not only do I need a support group for my klepto issues, but I am also an addict. That’s right, kids. If I don’t have an I.V. drip of strong ass coffee every morning, then I’m about as useful as a pantyliner is to Bruce Willis.

I consume no less than a pot of the stuff before I even leave my house in the morning. That’s just the regular, rut-o-the-mill crap too, I don’t own anything close to the best automatic espresso machine. The the games really begin when I get to the office. Oh yes, I have it made there. My boss is sympathetic and spoils me with Seattle’s Best beans. For Christmas 2 years ago, we acquired a mac-daddy espresso maker that grinds the Columbian beans into powder and then spews boiling hot water through it with extreme pressure so as to extract every last bit of the caffeinated goodness inside. God bless espresso and the occasional vanilla latte.

If I don’t get my daily dose of good stuff, I become as foul as an 87-year-old school lunch lady who’s sloppin cole slaw food stuff onto the tray of a smart ass high school kid. It’s cool. I don’t do without much.

However, I have went on strike from Starbucks. Pisses me off that I have to pay around $4 for a latte that I can whip up here for nearly nothin.
Nevermind the fact that I feel like the total redneck as I am ordering my “Non-fat venti vanilla latte, please” with my thick ass southern drawl. I always feel like they give me my total, ask me to drive around to the window, all the while making fun of the redneck chick with the funny accent.

Plus, I’m highly influenced by what I hear. And I a little squirrely told me that StarSchmucks is evil. He doth spout the truth!

(If you’re offended by extremely foul language, I advise you not to click that down there. And I apologize in advance for being so easily amused by such profanity. Please know, my mother raised me better than this. I am a black sheep.)