caffeine binge

1.5 weeks of non-coffee-ness.  I miss it.  The REAL coffee.

I’ve got all the fake stuff in hopes reconfiguring my DNA; I’ve got de-caf Dunkin Donuts coffee to brew at home, de-caf tea, I’ve even got Teeccino, which coins itself as ‘Herbal coffee,’ it’s made from roasted carob and other crap.  Surprisingly, it does taste like coffee, if you can get over the fact that is smells like booze (I say it smells like Jack Daniels, the Man says Malibu Rum) and the ingredients list looks like a hippy trail mix made by Kashi – seriously: carob, figs, date, chicory, huh?

I’m surviving.  I miss the coffee kick.  It’s such a letdown to slurp a cup of coffee and not get that energetic boost.  Or BOOST! if the coffee’s brewed strong like I like it.  All these other things have coffee’s mouth feel, and coffee’s taste, but doesn’t have the caffeine core of coffee. 

It’s like getting rid of your girlfriend ‘cause she’s crazy and you know, eventually she’ll do serious bodily harm to you.  So you date the girl that has the same brunette hair, even the same style and she’s got a similar body and good-looking face.  And she’s good for you, makes you good meals, encourages your personal growth, or whatever.  But she doesn’t do that nasty, naughty thing in bed that made you LOVE your last girlfriend so much, and stay with her so long, kept you going back to her.  She was such a naughty trap, and you loved it.  So, it’s a let down.

But I’m making it.  No terrible withdrawal symptoms, but I weaned myself off caffeine by stepping down my caffeine consumption.  I’ve been fully caffeine free since Friday.  Can I get a WOOT!?  Nah, it’s really not that special.

I’m afraid of a caffeine binge.  What if I miss it so much I go off the deep end?  Then I hit up the corner store for a Hershey bar, just for a little caffeine hit.  But that’s not enough.  So I get a Coke, NO! diet Coke, but not caffeine free, and I guzzle it.  And it’s great!  Reuniting with caffeine is FANTASTIC!  On my way out, I grab two more Hershey bars, King size versions.  And walking down the street, stuffing my face with caffeine laced candy bars, I see a Starbucks.  Or Seattle’s Best.  Yes!  Seattle’s Best!  They don’t have the nasty Pike Place brew that Starbucks is pimping like a three dollar hooker on Two-fer Sundays.  I enter, familiar coffee scent releasing mood boasting chemicals because I know THIS TIME I’m not getting de-caf!  I order, largest size please!  Americano, please!  CAFFEINATED, thank you!  Extra shot, please!  No, TWO coffees, please!  Put ice in it please, cool it down, thank you, I want to drink them NOW!  I fumble around for my red wallet, heart racing.  I pull out the debit card, my hands shaking like I’m in the late stages of Parkinson’s.  Big goofy chocolate/sugar induced Cheshire grin on my face, little smudges of chocolate on the corners of my mouth, pupils dilated.  Pound the coffee, heart explodes, the end of Fluer.

Stupid coffee.  You naughty tramp, I love you.