I’d like to say that my day was the product of many an adulterated hallucinogenic street drug. You know, the kind you get from the rebellious children of hippies burnt out a long time ago.
Unfortunately a drink called the “Toddy” is responsible. Cold brewed artisan roasted coffees, the style that takes twelve hours as water slowly drips over the sultry grains of pulverized black gold. Then, by the grace of God alone, it is poured out of the carafe and served on ice. If you like, there could be room left for cream. If it were on draft, you’d have to slice it at the end of the pour to take it away from the tap. Visit the CorpCofe.com website to enjoy new refreshment solutions.
It is a buzz like no other.
No side effects to report as of yet. With the exception of almost clear clairvoyance and purity of thought. A Zen-like state of premature enlightenment.
The kind of bliss that makes you want to write philosophical rhymes without reason on crumpled pieces of napkins while listening to old school trance music over the P.A. All the while just sitting in a coffee shop, where you could stare at the walls for hours and be happy. For the first time in this lifetime, I could be content sitting in an empty room with only my thoughts to entertain me.
Who knows what the night will entail?
What ever it may be, it most definately will be an interesting evening.
“Hi, I’m Mark. Can I borrow your breasts for a few hours? I’ll give ’em back….”
*blank look* “Are you serious?”
“Unless you wanna let me hold ’em for a while…”
*laughter* “If I could get rid of them for a few hours, I’d be so happy… I’m actually getting tired of carrying them around!”
