The great coffee debacle

It was the autumn of ought-five and I was alone in my carriage. I set out before the dawn on a cold November morn, tired yet prepared for the excitement of a full ten hours of a workday.

For my travels I had taken with me some vitals, not the least important of which was my 34 ounce "Bubba Keg" mobile barrel of coffee. I had just put my trusty steed (my Pontiac Vibe) into reverse, then shifted the workhorse into first gear. No sooner had I done that then my beautiful, extra large coffee mug decided it wanted to shift also... all over my passenger seat.

Now I am not one for the dramatic, but this one was a doozie of a spill. The mug was apparently not shut properly (I wonder who did that?) so when it went, it went. And as I went, I went on and on about this stinking cup. When I finally arrived at work I was covered in coffee, my car was doused in coffee, two new shirts, which had been used as emergency towels, were stained with coffee and my breakfast granola bars were soaked in coffee.

Now I like coffee as much as the next guy. Rather, I should say that I like to DRINK coffee as much as the next guy. Wearing it really isn't much my thing. Showering in it is a little out of my range as well. But I guess that didn't matter to my "Bubba Keg" seeing as that little varmint managed to spill all over me and the interior of my car the entire trip to work. Then it continued to drip while I walked into my office. Finally after cleaning myself up (and the table and the doorknob and the window and the tree outside) I managed to get the lid closed and finally was able enjoy a sip of joe.

A little while later my boss called and told me he was going to Starbucks. He asked if I wanted anything. Although I was thinking that I wanted a "Bubba Keg" that didn't spew it's contents all over my car and clothes, I refrained. And I asked him for a Mocha. Hmmm, coffee. And chocolate coffee at that.