My coffee woes continue. I’m back in the home office this week and of course the coffee pot was empty this morning. Fuckers. So, being America’s Coffee Bitch, I made more. I went back for more just after lunch: empty again, I made more again. Again: fuckers. I just went back for my afternoon jolt: empty again. And even worse than that, no more coffee packets. (Well, I shouldn’t say no more, there was plenty of decaf, but we’re not animals.) (At least I’m not.) (Generally speaking.) (Usually.)

Anyway. No more coffee: Fuck. Fucking fuck fuckers.

We have two lunchrooms in my office: the big one, and then a small “galley” over on my end — just a wet bar, really: sink, coffee machine, a few drawers and cupboards. The big one is where all the goodies are, so I went there to restock the galley. Only the big one’s almost out of coffee, too. All that was left there was a drawer with maybe enough coffee for a week. (Again, plenty of decaf, but we’re not animals.) (Well, they are on that end.)

I did the right thing: I cleaned ’em out. I loaded up with as much coffee as I could carry and smuggled it over to the galley. I left barely enough behind to get them through about noon tomorrow, but we’ll be good over here in the galley for about another two days. By that time the purchaser should have noticed they’re out of coffee on their end and maybe gotten off their lazy coffee-swilling-but-non-coffee-making-and-ordering ass and ordered more. And get the good stuff this time, biotch!

Don’t fuck with my coffee. I will take you down. I will take you down to Chinatown.