What is there to say? I'm not very interesting. I'm not a good writer. I don't even dress well. If you insist on knowing something about me just wander through the archives. It's all there.

Friday, September 16, 2005

On being addicted to coffee

When I was thirteen, I started drinking coffee. Everyone in my family drank coffee. It was a staple of our diet. I still drink coffee. I drink a lot of coffee. It is the first thing that I do in the morning. I am one of those people who can drink half a pot of coffee just before bedtime and still fall asleep instantly. I, probably, have a blood caffeine level that would cause my transfused blood to send the tranfusee into a hyperactive fit.

Needless to say, I am hopelessly addicted to my drug of choice. I can imagine that if some natural or man-made disaster struck and wiped out the coffee supply; I would be naked, curled up in some corner clutching my coffee mug with a wide eyed stare while crooning “bad Hobbit, must have my Precious”. It would be really pathetic.


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