Friday, January 25, 2008

1001 reasons why Tim Logan doesn't want to get up and pour his coffee

Because I'm nicely ensconced upon my sofa with a blanket stretched ever so neatly from my left big toe up to my chin and if I move more than 352 centimeters in any direction my comfort will be compromised. But the coffee is smelling so good that I might just have to abandon my position for the relatively more enviable condition of having freshly brewed Community New Orleans Blend trickle down my throat. If I ever overdose on something, I want it to be freshly brewed Community New Orleans Blend. Why do people mess around with anything less? Perfection should not be tampered with. Let's see, I said a thousand other I've got, what, 999 to go? Okay, so numbers two through one thousand and one: 999 hairs on my head (I hope there are at least that many, though the number seems to dwindle daily) would feel the cool morning air much more acutely by my moving through the room to retreive my coffee than they do just sitting still with a warm computer on my lap. And it is warm, trust me. But the coffee argument is on the precipice of a winning leap. Actually, it's more like a free-fall. Yep. Here goes. Sorry I misled you.


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