Yeah! My point exactly!

I actually gave the coffee up for a while, it reached that point with me. I said, “You know what, I’m not going to have a heart attack in front of some eighteen-year-old Haiku-writin’ mother fucker, in a Starbucks, okay? It’s just not gonna happen.” That would be just my luck. “He just came in here, and he was yelling at me about coffee-flavored coffee, whatever the hell that is. Then called me a Haiku-writing mother fucker. I’m glad he’s dead, I really am.” So I gave it up. In the morning, I would suck down two Cokes, back-to-back, to get that caffeine jolt. About a year ago, working on Long Island, making a movie, I’m driving around in my truck, and I see a 7-Eleven, and I think, “Of course, 7-Eleven! I can get a cup of coffee flavored coffee in 7-Eleven. What could be more than the 7-goddamn-Eleven?” I walk in there, sure enough, two big aluminum containers, like the old days, right? One’s labeled decaf, the other one has no label, what would you think? I think you would think what I thought. I pour myself a nice cup of coffee, I get up to the counter, go there to pay for it, behind the counter is another eighteen-year-old kid, okay? Head shaved, right? Both ears: pierced, okay. Both nostrils: pierced. Both eyebrows: fucking pierced! Tattoos coming out of his sleeves on both arms, he’s got baggy pants on, okay? They start at his knees, and this is all underwear right hear, okay? Here’s the pants and here’s the underwear, there’s twenty-seven inches of underwear, what the fuck is that about? Explain it to me. That’s one of the most basic rules that we all know about: the underwear goes inside the pants. Not here, not here, not here, INSIDE THE FUCKING PANTS! That’s why it’s called under-fucking-wear. I am standing there looking at him, now he starts to talk to me. This is how he talks to me: “Yo man, wassup? Wassup, man?” And he’s white! He’s waving gang signs at me, “Wassup man,” and he’s fucking white! He’s talking to me like he’s a card-carrying member of the Wu Tang Clan. You know what, you’re not in the Wu Tang Clan, okay? You’re not even in A Tribe Called Quest, asshole. You’re in a 7-Eleven, you’re eighteen years old, you don’t know shit about shit, and pull up your pants! And, uh, his tongue’s hanging out. You know why his tongue is hanging out? Because there’s a five-pound steel stud embedded in the middle of it, that’s why! What the fuck is that about? When I was a teenager, I wouldn’t get a steel thing put in the middle of my tongue, that’s one more thing for your dad to grab ahold of when he’s pissed off. “Come here!” “Auugh!” How do you wake up one morning and say, “You know what I’m gonna do today, I’m gonna get a piece of steel shot right through the middle of my tongue. Yeah, I’m gonna pay a big, fat, hairy, sweaty, tattoo guy to do it, too. Then, I’ll get a piece of steel shot through my cock. Yeah, that’ll be fun, yeah. Then I’m gonna get a metal rod that sticks out of my ass and makes my underwear stick out even further, then I’m gonna get a keychain attached to my balls, so I always know where my keys and my balls are.”

So I’m standing there with my coffee, trying to pay for my coffee, he’s looking at me… I take my coffee and leave. I get in the truck, I’m drivin’, coffee’s in the cupholder, I’m thinking about what a FUCKING retard that kid was, hopin’ my kids don’t turn out like that, all of a sudden I smell maple syrup in my truck. Did the kids spill maple syrup in here? And then I realize it’s coming from my coffee, somebody spilled maple syrup in my coffee. I go BACK to the 7-goddamn-Eleven, walk in, put the cup on the counter, I go, “Yo. Yo yo yo yo yo. Come here. Come here. Somebody spilled maple syrup in my coffee.” “No, that’s the flavor of the month, man. That’s, uh, maple nut crunch.” Maple nut crunch, okay? Maple nut fucking crunch. Are you gonna tell me that Juan Valdez is down in Bogota right now fielding a field full of maple nuts, I don’t fucking think so! In fact, I’m willing to bet my left maple nut that he’s NOT! Pull up your pants. My mom used to tell me when I was growing up, “Denis, why don’t you wake up and smell the coffee.” You know what, ma? I did, it smelt like fucking waffles, okay? Why don’t you just throw all the breakfast stuff in my coffee? Yeah, put an egg in there, eggaccino. How about some Cocoa Puffs, puffaccino. God damn it.

but i get my morning cuppa at the hometown coffee shop

PWNED by 2 hrs 1 min.

God dammit, EXACTLY what I was gonna say. :p

5 dollar cups of brunt crap…