Jumping for Java Joy

Coffee. Sweet, glorious, liquid heaven; two syllables that pack enough punch to make my hands shake. Some prefer alcohol as their drug of choice, or, uh, crack, but me? My love drug for life is a good ol' cup of joe.

It has come down to the point where I will plan my day according to the location of the nearest Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts or other obscure cafe to get my fix. Money is no object; when it comes to the consumption of caffeinated goodness, there's no price too high for good coffee (except, maybe for Kopi Luwak. We all have to draw the line somewhere).

This week, filled with nannying awesomeness, was also full of trips to the coffeemaker in my kitchen at 7am. I have decided that the best way to get my buzz going is to prep the night before, something that used to be part of my ritual at school. Lacking the funds to get my java jitterbug on via the gas station three minutes from my house (seriously, that dollar coffee can take a toll on you bank account three months later), I have resorted to smacking the coffeemaker upside the filter when it fails to perform to my standards. By this point in my life I should have the ritual down:

1. Place filter in correct spot.
2. Fill with desired amount of coffee stuff.
3. Sprinkle in a little cinnamon for funsies.
4. Pour correct amount of water in.
5. Close lid.
6. Press "on" button. Or "brew", depending on your maker.
7. Wait.

Yesterday, number 7 went on for a good long while. I had only prepared four cups (enough for a large "to go" thingie for my drive) and half an hour later it had yet to brew...pissed, I looked behind the defunct machine to discover I had not plugged it in. No wonder no one wants me to be their assistant.

Besides being the bane (and lifeblood) of my existence, it also serves to cement the friendships I have left in my hometown. "Let's meet for coffee (or tea, at times)" has become the mantra of choice when hanging out with old friends. Cheaper than beer, gas and hookers, the best way to get to know someone is over a steaming cup of the brown stuff (whoa, that sounds awkward).

When I go for interviews, especially in New York or New Brunswick (it's not so "new" to me anymore), I reward myself with a cup of coffee. The best experience I had was in the Bruns, wherein the Starbucks was directly across the street from the office. For each accomplishment, a grande nonfat sugar free vanilla chai latte (yes, I am aware it's not coffee), iced or hot, usually works to ease the sense that I might have failed miserably. When it's really good and I'm on a high, a little shot of espresso in a nonfat mocha boosts me to the stars.

No matter what your preference for the strange brew (though enough of it will probably make you see ghosts in video game machines, too), it remains a livelihood for it's loyal fans.

Perhaps they'll start making beer hats for coffee drinkers...Java Jukers: Nom from your Noggin (donuts optional).