There's these things and they're pissing me off.

Man, fuck coffee. Or fuck my body. Something's not right — I drink a beverage and now I can't control myself? Fucking Parkinson's juice.

Cigarettes are dumb too. I found one at a party last Saturday, brought it home and smoked it. Now it's sitting in my scented candle-turned-ashtray, all tan, white and black tainting the sky-blue wax, a perfect metaphor for itself. I look at it and feel cool for having a cigarette mashed into my candle. It looks cool. That's fucking ridiculous.

I have work in an hour, and it's the worst thing that could happen to me. Working at Jimmy John's, an expanding company that's glorifying a man's idea to rip off the masses for a solidly made sandwich, thus exploiting the fantastic American laziness and allowing Jimmy himself to live his life however he wants, which he deserves no more than the panhandlers that'd love to score a J.J. Gargantuan that day, sucks. It's a minimum wage job that doesn't compensate its employees with a free meal or sandwich (or cookie, or pickle, or day-old bread, or garbage) unless you work a double-shift. I've worked their four hours today already and have 5-and-a-half ahead of me. Let there be life.

Death is such a fag. Hanging over my shoulder every unhelpful second, checking my work and making silent judgments. If this is the last thing I ever write, and it had better not fucking be, I want death to know that I saw its game for what it was.

Sadness too. Sadness can shoot itself in the head with a dick-loaded rocket launcher. It's either there like a blanket, keeping you draped in it so you're impervious to outside emotions, or its worn like a hat, purposefully worn for certain situations for as long as necessary. You take it at your leisure through movies, books or stories about high school kids whose sports teams get better after they die.

Sadness should be like death, hanging over you but mostly avoided. Death should be like work, necessary for most people but totally fucking stupid to do and done for the sake of others. Work should be like cigarettes, trendy and eventually fatal but people do it for some reason anyway. And cigarettes should be like sadness, unfortunately permanent or sparsely but willfully consumed. Coffee should just calm down; whatever.

--Eliot Sill

Robert - Hot Drinks

You can tell a lot about a man from which kind of hot drink he prefers. Let's review the main three.

Coffee: The man's man will take a cup of strong black coffee, as will the lesser man who sees the man's man taking a cup of strong black coffee. Coffee is the lumberjack of hot drinks, albeit one who has been lately pacified by superchain Starbucks and Splenda. It doesn't take any shit from anyone. It is birthed from the loins of Colombian or Ethiopian coffee beans and injects itself right into your bloodstream, readying you for all the caffeine you could possibly need for your day out in the woods hunting for meat and stuff. Coffee is not to be fucked with.

Never mind the sky blue polo and pink table settings. This man is tough.

Tea: If coffee is the lumberjack of hot drinks, tea is their philosopher and yoga instructor. Tea's main function, as far as I'm aware, is to clear one's sinuses and refresh one's system with all-natural herbs and spices. It is also apparently a soothing drink that massages your throat and vocal cords, bringing your body into a more peaceful, centered state. Mostly it just tastes like hot water, though. One two separate occasions, I've tried my very best to get into tea. I mean, what's not to like about the idea of tea? It's accepted and nonaddictive. But as much as I can pretend I'm an east Asian monk or a British royal elite, I can't get around the plain boringness of tea.

That's great that you support animal rights, but unless you're Passion Fruit flavored, get out of here.

Hot Chocolate: Fuck yeah. Hot chocolate is the prostitute of hot drinks: delicious and exciting. You can't put marshmallows in coffee or tea, can you! Personally, I don't drink coffee or tea; they're icky. I don't need a caffeine rush and I'm centered enough as it is, so I keep my unwavering allegiance with hot chocolate. What'd you say? Hot chocolate is a juvenile drink, and I need to mature into something more fitting for my age? Maybe you didn't see my point about the marshmallows. I don't care how old I am. The day I decide that hot chocolate isn't super fucking delicious is the day I wish to die.

My ideal woman.