It's true, I am a whore for DD coffee. It owns me and I am its shameless slut. A writhing, sweating, panting, coffee craving wench.
I should probably be concerned but I'm not.
Even when I am on deadline and dangerously close to not filing on time, I cannot resist the lure, the siren call. I can smell the coffee beans, the steamy brew and I bolt.
Every day I get in my car and drive 10 miles round trip to buy my succulent DD coffee. I even threw out my coffee maker. I drink no home made brew. It has to be DD.
The cute boys who work the drive-thru window know my voice. I am like a crack head: "Hi you guys, I need me some brew." And it's there at the window, just like I like it. Cheesy white styrofoam -- large -- not "Grande." Please. No whipped topping or candy-ass chai. Just strong hot coffee. Oh, yeah, baby. My pulse is racing, I'm quivering as I guide the cup to my lips, ahhhhhhhhhh...
if loving it is wrong, I don't wanna be right.
1 comment:
Oh god, I wish I was a cup of DD coffee right now!
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