The Keurig. It’s been around for a while now. It began as an idea in 1995 and has been in stores since at least 2010. This popular apparatus is from the same era as the iPhone 4, so why does it seem like people just discovered them all of the sudden ? Admittedly, I didn’t do enough research to find out the exact date it went to market, because I am lazy. This can only mean one thing: I obviously own Keurig.
I heard about this sassy machine at some point in fall 2013 from several different people. Oddly, those people fell into a precise target market. Over 30, married, smokers. Maybe that was a coincidence, but if you’re a 30 year old married smoker, I bet you’d punt a penguin to have a Donut Shop or Dark Roast after reading this post.
The Keurig has brought us to believe that brewing a pot of coffee is like rolling your own cigarettes. One convenience of the machine is that you don’t really have to clean it, unless of course your cat throws up on it. Which is pretty incredible. The self cleaning mechanism, not the cat puke. I wish they made cats that self clean their own puke.
Oh yes, we were talking about coffee. And cigarettes. And the Keurig. It seems like it has gotten to the point that people are as obsessed with their K-cups as they are with Starbucks, Miley Cyrus, memes, or even Miley Cyrus memes about Starbucks. Here is how to tell if you are one of those people (which for the record, I am not).
1. Since your mother-in-law gifted you your Keurig for Christmas, you have updated your stand-by resume with the added qualification of Barista.
2. You are a heterosexual man who is more excited over mention of K-cups than C-cups.
3. The largest brew setting is a crushing disappointment in your opinion.
4. You are not even slightly terrified of the massive needle used to pierce your K-cup, bleeding its contents into your greedy mug. In fact, you find it excitingly sadistic.
5. An annoying amount of your kitchen counter top space is bombarded with accessories like this:
Keurigs really are great, I get it. Like I said, I have and use one of my own. Sure, it makes me look suave when I offer customized coffee at the end of all the fancy dinner parties I don’t have, but I still love-hate it for so many reasons:
1. The largest brew setting is a crushing disappointment, even for the non obsessed. But I guess that is what happens when the inventor himself had caffeine poisoning during its making. Pansy.
2. Inserting a K-Cup is like feeding a Piraña.
3. The Starbucks K-cups are still not as good as actual Starbucks. But that’s okay, I can only afford to buy the Great Value K-cups anyway.
4. Speaking of the K-cups, where the hell are the Black Tar roasts? I like a little coffee with my water please.
5. Fuck you “add water” light. Who has time to fill a water reservoir anymore? Give me a coffee maker that connects directly to my water line and creates a perpetual coffee-fall, and then we will talk.
What do you think about these java beasts? Love them? Hate them? Love and hate them? Let’s talk about it.
I’m the type of person who has absolutely no problem dining alone, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. It’s like meditation in the form of stuffing your face. No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab.
Dining alone is sublime if you ask me, but along with everything else in the world, there are a few downsides. Let me fill you in.
1. People will feel sorry for you. Especially and extremely so if you are over fifty. I don’t know why, but when I see an older man or woman dining alone I want to slit my wrists.
2. Your waiter will unintentionally make you feel inadequate by slowly taking away all of the other silverware on the table and saying something like, “Is it just you tonight?”
3. Remember those people who are feeling sorry for you? You will eventually succumb to their stares and whip out your smart phone to pretend you are handling important business emails, when you are really seeing how bad you look with a double chin on Fat Booth before you order that appetizer disguised as an entree.
4. At this point, your waiter has now joined in on the pity party for you, so you will have to deal with taking a bite right at the very moment that he asks you a pressing question about your refill, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether.
5. You have to pay. Unless the entire staring restaurant forms a sympathy pool to pay for your pathetic dinner.
So let me fix my first paragraph about dining alone: No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree … except yourself. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether… but your waiter will have the same bad timing. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab… but there is absolutely no chance you are getting a free meal.
So I meant it when I said that I enjoy dining alone. I enjoy dining alone in my living room while watching old episodes of The Office and secretly pining over Dwight. Don’t judge me.
Dining alone while reading this?! Let me give you more stuff to do on your smart phone so you don’t look so bored. Check out Not A Redhead on YouTube here.
I had so much fun putting together this bloggerific Rush-fest for Madame Weebles birthday. I hope it was better than all the cat sweaters and stale birthday cakes we could have gotten for her.
I’ve almost been blogging for two years now, and as the New Year approaches swiftly I find myself in reflection. When I began blogging, I had no idea that a widget wasn’t a term coined for a midget whale. I certainly didn’t know a thing about YouTube, Twitter, or domain mapping.
When I began this blog I planned to write about travel, inspiration, blah blah blah. It quickly turned into a humorous space, which is true to the behavior of a Becca in the wild. Then I got my hands on a real internet connection and a new webcam and it was all over. BeccaTube was born, and many sleepless nights I geeked out splicing videos like I was splitting atoms in a lab.
Where I have come with my blog, my video, my projects, my relationships, it has all been a wonderful experience that was squished into two short years. I still feel like I am barely 23 years old, discovering the outlet of blogging every time I log on, all the while knowing my blogging brain is pushing thirty.
And for this reason, I am saying goodbye to 25toFly. Read the rest of this entry
A month ago, I received an e-mail from the people who created The Snugg, requesting a review of one of their products. I get quite a few of these request, and I don’t usually do reviews, but occasionally something peaks my interest. Remember the Shakoolie? Read the rest of this entry
I’m not really one to make rules for myself. I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of gal. I’ll try almost anything once, and I rarely freak if a risk I take doesn’t end in my favor. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t certain standards by which I live. Let me explain.
I don’t let just anyone or anything into my bedroom. My bed is a cone of trust. You don’t get to enter it, especially with me, unless I know that you won’t betray me. It’s a Becca law that I have always honored.
This being said, something has happened to this law. I have broken it.
Dozens of posts…
Oodles of glorious mustache pics…
Over $800 raised for men’s health…
FOUR BIG WINNERS:
When I got involved with Bloggers for Movember in 2012, I participated for a few reasons.
- Le Clown asked me, and you don’t tell him no. Unless you like flaming clown poop on your doorstep.
- I love facial hair much more than the average person. I’d take a bearded throw blanket any day.
- It was a great way to get involved with the blogging community and a charitable cause all at the same time.
I slept well every night of Movember 2012 knowing that I had done my part as an upstanding citizen of both the non virtual and virtual worlds of which I was a part. However, this year Bloggers for Movember means much more to me on an intimate level. This year, Movember has sunk into me… deep. BFM isn’t just something I am proud to put my name on. It has made me tap into my appreciation for the men I love, the men I like, and even the ones that I don’t. Read the rest of this entry