Look at how fucking happy that cartoon me is, with my legs in the air, arms firmly grasping the largest cup of coffee you’ve ever seen in a cartoon strip on this website, and a frat guy cheering me on?! So much fucking joy. It could be because we’re stick-naked, but I never could draw clothes that good. Or coffee mugs apparently. That thing would topple over so fast, spilling every last drop of the joe on the floor. I’d still lap it up. No drops of coffee go un-drunk when this girl’s around. ::points at self with both thumbs like a douche::
There’s something magical about the all-powerful coffee bean that makes us consume it like lunatics.
If I were given a choice between sacrificing my only child or my ability to reload my Starbucks card at will, sorry, kid, but it just doesn’t look like this mother-son thing is going to work out. What do you think it is that keeps me sane and/or conscious enough to nurture and care for you? Sheer willpower? The prowess of motherhood? Nope. Coffee. Lots and lots and lots of coffee.
Do you drink coffee like a frat guy at a kegger?