Life Blood

"Don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee in the morning."

Everyone has heard a co-worker say that at least once. We get it Jessica, you've fed a lifetime of caffeine addiction with copious amounts of pumpkin spice and chai.

As someone with a real caffeine addiction, fuck off. Anybody who actually survives off of coffee in the morning will tell you that it is the most unpleasant thing in the world to be told, "oh I need my coffee in the morning," but they somehow still have a cheery attitude and a smile on their face. Anybody who says they need their coffee in the morning doesn't actually need their coffee in the morning, they just like the social interaction of walking into Starbucks and the egotistic self gratification of the barista calling their name out over a crowd of other overly cheery and self proclaimed coffee fiends.

I've worked in construction and emergency services, and my roommates through the years are either working 100 hours a week on Wall Street or are in the military. Your cushy office job going over the sales reports for your t-shirt company does not qualify you to be a coffee addict.

When I asked my friend on Wall Street how often he worked I was honestly surprised. 100 hours on average a week is a new level of self loathing and degradation. When I asked him when he has time to sleep he said he didn't, he just keeps drinking coffee. Do you think you could work 7-5, 5 days a week, and occasionally miss the game on Saturday to work another 7-5? I don't think so. Wall Street workers: certified coffee fiends.

7-5 not good enough? Commander says training at 0600. Next down on the totem pole says be ready at 0500. Next down says 0430. Now its 0300 and you're standing out in the snow at Fort Drum in upstate New York waiting to get your ass kicked, and what is the only thing that helps you get through that day? A lot of shitty coffee. None of that peppermint mocha bullshit, we're talking day old, lukewarm bulk coffee. Maybe later that day you'll make the coffee packet from the MRE, which hardly qualifies as coffee, and is definitely not FDA approved. Coffee is one of the top consumer products in the military, as shown in a study done by my buddy whose platoon goes through 3 jars of Folgers a day. Military: certified coffee fiends.

Let's take a look at the construction and laborers in society. They have to be on the job site at 6 in the morning. Last I checked the only coffee place open before 6 is the McDonalds drive through and the gas station. Have you ever wondered why construction workers and laborers are always overweight? It's because the coffee they're drinking is so bad they have to overload it with cream and sugar just to choke it down. There is nothing appealing about drinking still boiling gas station coffee at the ass crack of dawn. What are they going to do though? Fall asleep behind the wheel of a 3 ton, half a million dollar piece of machinery? No. They force feed themselves shitty coffee because that's what heroes do. Construction and Labor: certified coffee fiends.

My background the last few years has been working along side the brave guys and gals who work in emergency services and the likes. Doctors (pricks), nurses, medics, firefighters, cops, and various search and rescue types. If you work any of these jobs, you know that it's either shift work or you're on call. If you work 12 hour shifts and have somehow landed the day shift on the regular, congrats. You've won. If you're one of the unlucky souls that gets stuck on the 24-72 hour shift, you know that grandma doesn't have a stroke during the normal 9-5 business hours. The homeless guy living in the bus stop isn't tweaking on meth and shitting on the sidewalk at your convenience. There's an entire episode of "How I Met Your Mother" about how nothing good happens after 2am. Well I'm here to tell you that not only does nothing good happen after 2am, but everything bad happens after 2am. How do all the first responders make it through the 72 hour long hell? You guessed it. Enough caffeine to kill a small horse. There's no "OPEN" sign for emergencies. Shit just happens. So next time you see a first responder, buy them a cup of joe, they might just start enjoying the public again. First responders: certified coffee fiends.

You're might be wondering what inspired me to write this lovely article. Well let me run you through the shit show of a morning I had today, all before 8 in the god damn morning. I woke up and immediately went to the kitchen to make myself half a pot of coffee. No coffee filters. Fuck it. Bundled up on this crisp December morning in Colorado and dragged myself to my piece of shit car and started driving to the grocery store to buy some filters. On my way their some asshole decided that his shitty little Prius was in Mario Kart, and started swerving all over kingdom come nearly hitting my tin can on wheels. Little did he know my tin can has a horn that I like to use very often, and one of the windows still goes down. Needless to say, in between angry horn blasts, my sailor's mouth gave him a few colorful licks. Fuck that guy.

Made it. Grocery store. Brain not functioning. Parking lot. Turn right. Fuck.

Have you ever parked in a parking lot with those stupid diagonal parking spots? Not the normal ones that are perpendicular to the center lane that can barely fit one car, but the ones that if you drive passed them the wrong way you have to back in? Someone decided that parking lots don't cause enough turmoil in driving society, so they needed to make it one way too. Fuck who ever did that. Anyways, after I realize that the grocery store had this stupid parking lot that was one way, it was too late. It's all good. I back large rescue trucks into garages quite a bit, so backing into a spot is a piece of cake. I can do this even without my coffee. Throw my car in reverse and start pulling in. That's when some old geezer who looks like he was an extra on the Sopranos comes flying in to the spot on the other side. No big deal. As long as he stays in the lines I'll be fine. Wrong. This geriatric fuck comes in like a Formula 1 racer and zero regard for any lines around him. Now I'm trying to park my SUV in half a parking spot while trying not to hit his 1970's heap of junk. You know the ones that look like they're convertibles but actually just have leather roofs for some reason? Typical old guy car. Fuck that guy.

I decided to be a decent human being for once, and pulled forward and 18 point turned into the spot across from me. Now old man winter and some other shriveled lady are waiting in line for carts to be cleaned. I get that we live in pandemic times, but I didn't realize that a symptom of COVID was taking up the whole doorway to the store. It's a serious feat being able to block an entire double sliding door, but somehow these half sized, older than dirt assholes are taking up the entire entrance. I skirt around them and the door attendant asks if I'd like a cart and I angrily say I'm only here for coffee filters. The tone in my voice definitely had a little bit too much hate in it, so attendant lady, I'm sorry, but if you're reading this article, you understand.

I beeline it for the coffee section. I see a bag of Death Wish coffee, self proclaimed strongest coffee on the market. The name was fitting enough at this point and I definitely needed something strong. I grab a bag and head to checkout. After a slight aneurism when I saw the price of it and saying fuck it, I pay and head to my car. The fucking coffee filters. The only thing I left the house for and I forgot it. Now in a blind rage, I walk back into the store, grab 400 filters, and check out again. As I'm walking back to my car, guess who I see walking out. Geriatric Mario who nearly plowed through me when I was parking. What did he buy in the grocery store at 8 in the morning? A dozen gallon jugs of water. Nothing else. I can't make this shit up. This old guy comes flying into the store, nearly hitting me, before I've had my coffee no less, for some fucking water? The audacity.

Surprisingly, on my way home I had no run ins with demolition derby drivers or the blind members of society driving on the roads. I finally get home, still in a rage. My car is parked as crooked as it can be without getting a ticket for being an asshole. I finally get to make some coffee. That's when I decided to write this article. Why let my caffeine deprived rage go unutilized, when I can use it in a creative manner. It wasn't until I got to the section on parking lots that I finally took my first sip of coffee.

No, I won't let this end this way. Through the power of my second favorite drug, nicotine, I pushed my coffee away, to let the self loathing fuel my creative powers. I wanted those of you who drink your caramel macchiatos every morning to truly understand what it means when I say "don't talk to me until I've had my coffee." Now that my brain is actually starting to fail and I can barely form a sentence, I'm going to drink my coffee. Black. A guy I used to work with always said he drank it black because he liked his coffee how he liked his women. Bitter and keeps him up at night.

Thanks for reading, hope this article has been at the very least entertaining, but if you're just tired of mindlessly scrolling Instagram while you drink your coffee, I'll take that too.

Coleman, out.