I’m all into decaffeinated coffee these days. To a barrista though, the phrase “decaf please” seems to pass straight through their ears, much like yelling for water in the middle of a desert.

Anyway here’s a trick to make sure you get decaf. If you’re so inclined.

sam: I’d like a decaf Iced Latte Mocha decaf.
Barrista: What size?
sam: Medium decaf.
Barrista: You want sugar?
sam: Just decaf.
Barrista: Whipped cream?
sam: Decaf please.

Barrista begins preparing beverage, pausing after 30 seconds.

Barrista: Sir, you wanted decaf right?

In the In just 2 weeks I’ve punched through the gray area marked by occasional indulgence on one side; full fledged addiction on the other. Denial at this point is futile. The monkey is on my back. Even worse, the little weasel has my cell number.

My drug of choice? Iced Decaf Mocha Swirl Latte. Hold the whipped cream and the sugar, please. Thank you Mr. Coffee Huckster, I will come again.

The best place to purchase this drink is from the franchise that once sold doughnuts with little handles. Since they stopped selling the doughnuts that bear the title of the company I refuse to utter their name in public. All grievances aside, the Iced Lattes are good. Real good.

Try one today. And remember the Iced Latte Support Group meets every Wednesday night. I’ll see you there…

With the heavy rain outside, the sound of the water against the glass remind me of a cross between the end of the world and the beginning of political convention season. Just like peanut M&Ms, the two inclement events are the same foul flavor and consistency; cheap chocolate and soggy. Ah yes, there’s a ruckus brewing out there and I hope it stays the hell back.

Reading the last few lines reminds me of an old Peanuts cartoon, “It was a dark and stormy night…” Did Snoopy ever write a second line to his magnum opus or was it all an homage to the “all work and no play make jack a dull boy” in the Shining?

Speaking of interesting missives, there was an Ask Buddhapuss slated for today. Tragically, Master Buddhapuss slept the entire morning and afternoon on my favorite reading chair, suffocating my last pair of clean denim jeans. I was able to rouse him, but only long enough for dinner. The jeans were a wreck. There’s no hope for them in this life or the next.

After dinner the cat wanted none of this blogging business. My apologies.