19 January 2010

6 cups by joe

i never understood those people who paced around the coffee pot, panting drones, waiting for it to brew.

now i understand those people.

now i am one of those people.

this has brought a whole host of skeletons springing forth from the family closet and, in particular, has revealed one of my family's most closely held secrets: the fact that my grandfather makes The Worst Coffee In The History Of The World.

suddenly everything makes so much more sense.

why did my father and my aunt- both notorious late sleepers- always awake at dawn at my grandparents' house? to make The Coffee.

why did my mother start drinking tea? The Coffee.

when my grandmother's sister said The Mean Thing about my grandfather that made my grandmother defend his honor and cut all family ties? yeah, that was about The Coffee.

rule #1: you don't badmouth The Coffee.

at the risk of being exfamiliated, i will say this though: my grandfather makes some profanely bad coffee.

it's no wonder he makes one cup last the entire day. i always categorized this as "savoring" but now i'm pretty certain he is engaged in a secret experiment to see how much microwave radiation is required to resuscitate the juice of dead beans.

but i should clarify. there is The Coffee. and then there is The Coffee, Round Two.

The Coffee is not great, but it is tolerable. like someone accidentally forgot an ingredient that wasn't very important until it was gone. though weakened, the cup can carry on.

The Coffee, Round Two, however, is a crime against juan valdez.

despite the fact that other people's beds are the only place i can sleep the night through these days, i will arise before day break to avoid The Coffee, Round Two. because Round Two is Round One with new water run over the same used beans. it produces a drink that, when taken black, is eerily reminiscent of a glass of water in which a single licorice jelly bean has been briefly dipped.

my mother brought my first cup of The Coffee, Round Two, to me in bed. i awoke to this abomination and thought it a joke. i laughed out loud. i did not know better. i quickly learned.

but if nothing else, my grandparents are committed. now that i'm outed as a coffee person, there is no going back. because for the rest of forever, at my grandparents' house there will always be a cup of bean vapors with my name on it.

a threat that is so odious, so against nature, that it should probably tip me into giving up caffeine at long last. but no, no. an oline's faithful 100%. so bring me your muddy waters. bring on those sweaty beans. i drink your coffee. i drink it up.


oline said...

(i would like to apologize in advance to croftie for having ended on an allusion that will no doubt be quoted in her household for days to come.)

Les Savy Ferd said...

wrong! I've been good. and unless she is lying, she will tell you that SHE herself has been There Will Be Blooding up our happy home with quotations far more than I.

(She is particularly given over to calling Barry a "bastard in a basket".)

However you have spurred me to watch the film again some day soon. Maybe after I somehow break the death grip the Venture Bros have over my DVD player.

oline said...

oh honey, whyever would you want to sacrifice another 3 hours of your life to that?

ps. your christmas present will be coming via croftie tomorrow. yippee! at least my record with christmas presents is slightly better than austin birthday celebrations.

Les Savy Ferd said...

sacrifice, or elixir-like life-enchancing awesomeness.

It's a fine line.

oline said...

a very very fine line.

Les Savy Ferd said...

a very very very fine line, fine line/ With two giant burning oil derricks in the yard/ Life used to be soooo hard...