Five Hour Energy and the Jeeves of Java

A commercial this morning taught me some new, very eye-opening negatives about coffee.

Apparently, you have to:

• Make it
• Wait for it
• Fuss with it
• Carry it around along with a briefcase and overcoat nearly spilling it upon your person

Or-- if you are unable to manage the painful inconvenience of those-- you must:

• Stand in line for it.

While admittedly I have wished at times that caffeine could be injected directly into my veins-- particularly on those mornings where routine bloodwork becomes a temporary barrier to myself and glorious, life-giving java-- I had never considered the burden it is to actually make some of the stuff appear in a cup in my hand every day, and keep it there until safe consumption is complete.

But 5 Hour Energy tells me this is true. So I feel kinda like a powerhouse of get-it-doneness just for making this extraordinary personally-challenging event happen each morning!

The benefit of their product, 5 Hour Energy suggests, is in its instant gratification.

Just pop it open and chug. Unless you don't have any in the house because you couldn't remember to buy any. Like the coffee. In which case you have to:

• Drive to the store
• Figure out where the frig the store stocks it
• Wait in line for it
• Wait until the cashier scans it
• Yank it out of her hand before she puts it in the bag
• Rip open the lid, which hopefully is easier to do than those little creamer containers you get with your coffee which usually end up squirting you in the eye
• Drink it
• Pause for harsh words from other shoppers for holding up the line while chugging your on-the-go jolt of non-coffee instead of...
• Paying for it.

But, see, and I hesitate to even mention this... I think in 5 Hour Energy's desire to showcase their benefits, they might have accidentally totally not intentionally missed a handy, yet little-known facet about the process involved in crafting a pot of their brethren in wake-up beverages...

Technology has given some of us rare, lucky individuals this thing called the Coffeemaker with Timer. When properly programmed, it is the discreet butler of caffeine, the Jeeves of Java. And it allows for that beautiful brew to come to life without proximity to a lifeform with active brain cells.

It's neat that way.

Now, it may not eliminate the obvious fussing and gravity problems associated with coffee. But it does save on time. Plus, it tastes so good with breakfast foods...

Like pre-sliced cracker-sized cheese squares and pre-fried bacon.

Note to Self: Write Clearer Notes to Self

It was jotted in my own manic scrawl, in pencil, on the corner of a scrap of paper and left on my desk. It sat there with gravity, weight. 

It Meant Something.

And it stayed there on my desktop for several weeks, patient and waiting,  because it, yes, Still Undoubtedly Meant Something. 

It was an Idea. A Spark to be fanned into a blazingly hilarious blog post, destined to make laughter pierce the air!... turn readers' days instantly better!... with readers' families and coworkers catching the mirth through happy bloggy osmosis!... 

Yes, there would be dogs smiling... babies giggling... and inevitably it would bring peace to people across the world except probably not Egypt because let's be realistic: a crappy note on a piece of paper can only do so much.

And that note, that note intended for boundless humor read:

"The Cellars Progressive Wine Sale"

...

...

Yeah: I know. I have no idea where I was planning to go with that either. And it is so. not. funny. 

The babies, they weep. The dogs, they smile not.

Egypt is still Egypt.

I might-- and I can only guess here-- have been thinking of questioning whether Progressive Wine was branded politically, or whether it was a simple suggestion that one should drink many sequential bottles at once in increasing alcoholic content percentages.

One would think, from my lack of memory, that I had tested that out.

But somehow the whole joke of Progressive Wine Differing from Libertarian and Conservative wine in, say, belief in how much involvement the winemaker should have in the fermentation process...

Well, it doesn't really live up to the whole "wishing I could buy the world a Coke/glass of Progressive Wine/beverage of choice and live in perfect har-mo-neee" thang.

And then there's that "carpool" note over there. Clearly that was written at another time, since it's in ink. But I don't carpool. I can't recall having an event to go to that required a carpool. 

Or maybe the paper is just one grand statement on designated driving.

Yes, your guess is as good as mine, folks. All I can say is, thank goodness I'm not Guy Pearce's character from Memento. 

There'd be no telling what I'd find tattooed on myself.

Question for the day: Do you ever write yourself notes and then get amnesia?

And by the way-- who are you people?

Purry Duty: Boston Cat Ordered to Serve as Juror

"You mean this isn't the jury box?"

So according to this article from the Telegraph newspaper, a Boston cat recently was called to do jury duty. It turns out "Tabby Sal" had been listed on the family's census submission, under Pets, but it appears that with today's anti-discrimination policies, our government is willing to take practically anyone able to serve. 

Thumbs are not a prerequisite.

Having received the summons, the feline's owner suggested that Tabby Sal's presence on the jury was possibly superfluous, given the prospective juror's "inability to speak and understand English." The article doesn't say whether this was enough to exempt the cat from his duties as an American citizen.

Now, my own kittens both do understand English, but they are not fluent, native speakers. 

As far as I can tell, their grasp of the language is pretty much limited to:

• Their own names
  
• "food" 
  
• "no" 
  
• "nice" 
  
• "no" 
  
• "good" 
  
• "no" 
  
• "stay" 
  
• "no" 
  
• "fer Pete's sake, Harry, what the hell are ya doin'?"
  
• "no" 
  
• "down" 
  
• "no" 
  
• "treat" and
  
• "not for kitties"
  

Also "no." But that particular word appears harder for their ears to register and process than words like "food" or "treat."

If these are, however, the words being used in an important court case, my furred friends Alice and Harry would probably be able to turn in a decent, honest verdict-- at least one as good as the average human-American who watches a lot of daytime television.

I mean, I figure most of us-- myself included-- can speak almost no Cat. So, being bilingual, the kittens are already our linguistic superiors. Plus, their day jobs consist mainly of self-employed in-home perimeter security patrol and REM processing. This makes their schedules flexible, so getting off work to participate in a trial isn't too difficult.

Only drawback would be for a lengthy trial. 

In which case, the jury box had just better have some litter in it.