A Large Cup of Boiling, Seething Hate

When I was a little kid, my mother would make something called “honey coffee.” Which was coffee with cream and sugar. I would go to school with caffeine coursing through my veins. This made me a prime target for ruler swinging, eraser throwing nuns. (For older women, they had the accuracy of Joe Montana. Fucking bitches.)

NOTE: I went to an all male, Catholic, military school from 3^rd-8^th grade. This explains my loathing for authority, and a host of other negative personality traits.

Flash forward to my college days, when I was a young, drunk, horny, smoking cigarettes, wasting time, and hitting on girls like a Japanese Zero honing in on the USS Essex. Fucking loved those days. They are long gone. Anyway, I discovered black coffee and cigarettes fucking RULED. Almost as good as cigarettes and LIQUOR.

The coffee love continued. My first job, I drank a lot of coffee because I got to walk past the office of the hot HR chick. Brothers, I dedicated so much time to trying to get that woman to go out with me, to no avail. To be honest, I was in my 20s and had some money in my pocket, so the drinking was escalating and I was cockier than Dak Prescott. She loathed me.

Coffee is now an important part of my life. I need it because I have three children who claim me as their father. Waking up to the sounds of three boys kicking each other in the nuts makes for a long day. I also have a job and without caffeine I would be a useless blob taking up valuable resources. (I save that shit for when I’m home, ask Mrs. Fozz.)

But as you all know, coffee has been fucked with. It’s all fancy and shit. You can’t just walk in to a store or gas station and get a goddamn cup of Joe. No, it’s got to be exotic, and foreign, and maybe evenflavored, which I fucking hate. Jesus god in heaven, if you want flavored coffee you should be stabbed to death with a wooden coffee stirrer. I know that would take a lot of time and effort, but in the end, you would be dead and I could drink my coffee in peace.

Now, let’s crank up the guns on the battleship New Jersey and take aim at that fuckhole known as your local Starbucks. Sure, I could stay out of them and patronize local coffee shops (more on those hovels of pretentious assfucks in a second.)

I find the coffee not bad. “But Fozz, they overroast their beans. They are the equivalent of McDonald’s.”

To this I say, “Go eat a shit sandwich, Mr. Thumb Dick.

But having to “order using European sizes” irritates the shit out of me. I always ask for a medium, and piss off that stupid asshole with the white boy dreads. (If you are white and wearing dreads, I see you as a soulless poseur that needs to be shoved into a 50-gallon oil drum and beaten with a ball peen hammer.)

And as I heard a comic say, “The more complicated the coffee order, the bigger the asshole ordering it.” A-fucking-men to that. You should be kicked in the tits if it takes longer than 10 seconds to order a cup of coffee. (My mother once asked me to get her a “double soy latte with two pumps of caramel” and I refused. As an Italian, that is on par with murdering the pope.)

So why not patronize a local coffee shop? Simple: I don’t want to go to jail for machine gunning a place of business, setting it on fire, and using a vintage K-Bar on hipsters that flee like roaches. (And your cutesy play on words business name is as interesting as oatmeal. You’re not clever, you are a waterhead that should be chained to a tree and left out in any type of weather.)

I am convinced that there is a “Local Coffee Shop Starter Kit”. It comes with a bunch of stupid ass chalk boards so you can write shitty political slogans; coffee hand-picked by third world inhabitants; pretentious shitheads to work behind the counter and screw your order up; and at least 5 “regulars” who are unemployed hipsters writing poetry or blogs on MacBook Airs their parents bought them.

I want coffee. As Dennis Leary said, “Coffee flavored coffee.”

A Thing that Made Me Happy This Week

The Christmas tree was decorated and did NOT result in a small fire, assault and battery, or getting my ass kicked out of the house. Also, I bought a big bottle of Bulleit Rye for the holidays. YEEEEEE HAWWWWWW!