I am mastering the French press.  Often times I stroll over to the ‘bucks for my cup of sole enhancement.  I am feeling more and more guilty about this considering I buy their bag coffee and could just make extra at home.  Transportation has proven precarious to say the least.  A good, tight-sealed mug would probably do the trick, but I am too cheap to buy another mug that I will likely break or lose within a month’s time.  So I have been trying my hand at the press.  We have a coffee grinder, espresso machine, and coffee machine at my office.  The espresso machine is ok, but the one-hitters are just too pinnerd for me at times.  Plus, the Euros in my office use and abuse that poor machine like a 2 cent crack whore.  The coffee machine is the result of such abuse.  It is the curb side, down-and-out, meth-head.  The only one willing to use it is my Venezuelan colleague who has probably been hardened to such atrocities in his own country.

The press experience was my only logical option.  I brought a nice glass one from home and we’ve had a nice relationship thus far.  She’s a little sloppy in the kitchen and leaves some residue in her tank, but mostly the elixir she produces is good.  This morning I forced the Saeco machine to push out some steam so I could froth my milk – a ghetto style cappuccino.  Nice.

Obviously my life is boring.

Almost got hit by a car again.  A 20 something fatty wearing sunglasses that made her look like a fruit fly.  She came ripping out the 7-Eleven near my office without stopping or looking and cut me off as I road towards the exit of the shopping area.  I tapped her trunk and explained that she should invoke ALL of her sensory skills when driving – not just the hearing – which was probably relegated to listening to Fergie or some such lame ass music.

~ by Indy on December 19, 2007.

2 Responses to “french”

  1. yeah…but was she hot?

  2. Had some thoughts about this a couple of weeks ago, always i tend to forget things like this.

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