Ghetto Cafe Mocha and Burning EyeballsSubmitted by WillZone at 2004-12-08 11:52:35 EST
Rating: 1.5 on 23 ratings (23 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I get 2 fifteen minute breaks a day as well as an hour lunch break. I have each of my breaks meticulously planned out. Today’s tale of torrid entanglements revolves around that first fifteen minute break; 10:00 AM to 10:15 AM.
When all goes right this is how Break #1 works out for me: Go outside, smoke a cigarette. Put on my tie using the chrome light fixtures as my mirror. Head back into the building and head on up to the 27th floor and get myself some coffee. Return to work. 15 minutes. Perfect.
My cigarette smoking and tie putting-on-ing worked just fine. Still had 7 minutes of magic time left. I passed the security checkpoint in the building and headed to the closest elevator. My thumb jabbed the button for the 27th floor with pinpoint accuracy. We were on our way...we being me and my thumb.
My company has something like 17 floors in this building. Each floor has a break room housing the typical break room fare. Small fridge, coffee machine, coffee supplies, kitchen sink, and cups. The coffee is shitty. The paper cups are small and a smidgeon thicker than a sheet Bounty. If you take too long drinking the liquid in the supplied paper cup, the cup will absorb the remaining liquid and eventually shred apart and create what moms call a "mess."
So, I'm preparing my Cup o’ Joe when mine eyes behold a new addition to the 27th floor break room. My fragile heart skipped a beat...Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate. Mmm, Mmm delicious. I contemplated making myself a cup of hot chocolate, but I really need that rush of faux-energy from caffeine that only a cup of coffee can deliver. But again, hot chocolate is sooo good.
My eyes dart around the room and take in my surroundings and supplies and I formulate a plan. Using the right and left sides of my brain, or as I like to call them, the Emeril and MacGyver sides of my brain I decide to combine the coffee and hot chocolate to make a ghetto-rific Cafe Mocha.
I insert the coffee packet into the machine and watch it brew. I check the clock. 5 minutes before I have to return to the hell lovingly called my reception desk. The coffee is done bubbling and the ensuing crunch of the packet somewhere inside the contraption alerts me that my shitty coffee is ready. I put my absorbent cup on the counter and break out the hot chocolate packet.
What should be a simple "rip and dump" operation, turned out to be a painful and blinding netherworld of painfulness and blinding. I tore off the top of the packet of hot cocoa mix and unleashed a brown cloud of burning powder into the air. I, well namely my eyes, were the ground zero to this brown cloud of pain.
FUN FACT: Did you know that when Hot Cocoa powder enters the wet part of one's eye it triggers the vocal chords to scream a sound similar to that of a Moose getting its throat slashed by a filet knife?
FUN FACT (redux): Did you know that people, namely Partners at a law firm, are attracted to the sound of a moose getting its throat slashed by a filet knife? And did you also know that upon seeing a "Will Zone" crying chocolate tears in a back corner break room, said partners will just slowly sip their coffee, stare and shrug before walking away nonchalantly without offering any assistance?
FUN FACT: Did you know that sulfuric acid is the main ingredient in Swiss Miss Hot Cocoa mix?
My friends my eyes burned. Tears poured down my face. I was in pain. If I was able to see I would bet that if I looked in a mirror I would see brown, powdery lumps where my eyes once were. If my eyes are the window to my soul, then someone call 911 because my soul seems to be trapped in a tasty sand-storm.
They say that when you lose one of your senses, your other senses are heightened…this sadly is not the case. A lowly secretary came to my aid and when she asked if I needed any help I believe instead of speaking to her civilly, I was a screaming, cussing mad man.
Inside my mind I was asked her
“Oh, bless your heart kind woman, would you be so kind as to lead my hand to some sort of water source as am I blinded by powder, much like I’d be blinded by your beauty.”
But I think it came out more like:
“Arggghh! Fucking water, fucking now, you fucking wench!”
My secretarial savior left the room quicker than an erection during a Golden Girls marathon. My hands searched the room like Helen Keller in a…in a…well, anywhere. I finally found the tap and started flushing out my eye. But don’t worry, in my blind flailing I did manage to knock over my hot cup of coffee all over my hand which caused a nice slow-burn.
I cleaned up, and carefully prepared another Ghetto Café Mocha. I gave myself a quick once over in the mirror as I had no time left in my break. I went back towards the elevator my hand burning, my face wet, and my eyes beet-red.
To be honest, when I took that first sip of fresh Ghetto Café Mocha it was all worth it…it was just as shitty as I imagined.
Oh Uber, as an added bonus I just realized that Ghetto Cafe Mocha causes putrid gas to exit my butthole. People behind me today will love me.
My eyes were on fire...the one thing worse than that would be to be in attendance and to be seen at a KISS concert.