Water water everywhere, and coffee.


I beginning to think that walking around Vancouver in this weather is like losing your virginity. Once you get that wet, you will never be that dry again. Of course, unlike sex, one never really acquires a taste for walking in the rain, nor does one ever start to enjoy it. Rain must be like titty-sex and blow jobs as far as  the hetero-gal is concerned: sometimes necessary to get where you’re going but you never really enjoy it.


A school friend of mine has me back on the chase. A self-declared “Coffee Snob,” she got me to pull my French press out of mothballs and start using it again. The problem with this is I suck at making coffee. When I was a student, I would live on cigarettes and coffee during the daylight hours and other poisons in the evening. I have never had a taste for coffee drinks. I don’t drink lattes or cappucinos. I drink black coffee, no sugar, no milk, no cream. Because I don’t care for all the other accessories that coffee comes with, I need to find a good cup of plain, black coffee. This is the new quest.

If I’m going to get back into drinking coffee again, I need to find the good cup. This shouldn’t be too hard in a town like Vancouver. If you know where to find the best plain, black coffee, let me know. Tim Horton’s need not apply.


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