Having coffee with Jesus

So me and Jesus were having some fresh Costa Rican Brew this morning, shooting the bull in our sandals and robes. Since it was they day after the big disappointment, I just had to ask him...

" So Jesus what gives? Why the no show?" I asked him as I poured him a second cup.

"Oh Man, BS" he replied  as he dipped his finger in his cup and raised the brew to a perfect temperature, "Don't even get me started on that shit."

The Costa Rican Villa Sarchi that I roasted up actually tastes better as an espresso, but  since old Sandals himself popped in this morning looking to mooch a cup or two, I brewed up a pot  of it my Chemex and dug out special mug that I only let Jesus drink out of.

"Hey man, I am sorry to bring it up," I replied as dumped the last of the brew into my own mug, "It's just that it was all over the  news, a lot of people were really disappointed in you. I mean come on, look at the math, it seemed pretty legit."

"The math, right," He replied sarcastically as he took a long sip of the steaming brew, savoring it for a millisecond before taking another. "And the Earth is really 8,000 years old."

Old Jesus can really put away the coffee when he wants to. While I know he appreciates the good stuff (thats why he comes to me for is fix) sometimes I think that it is all about the caffeine buzz and not the overall taste. One of these Sundays I think I might try to pull the old decaf switcheroo on him to see if he notices. Who am I kidding? Of course he is going to notice. Besides he would probably just zap the caffeine back into it.

 It makes me wonder what really went down with old Lazarus. 

Sensing that he really did not want to talk about the disappointing  no show and the lack of earthquakes and general chaos, I changed the subject  and went to brew up another pot since that whole water into wine shtick only made the coffee taste watered down.

"So how did that fishing trip go?" I ventured.

"Man, I rather talk about the Apocalypse," He said, "I only managed to hook one all day, and it got away."

" Oh man, too bad," I replied, not really caring about fishing, but still enjoying the company. "Hey dude," want to try this as an espresso?" I said, the thought suddenly occurring to me. It will really knock you out of your sandals"    The Costa Rican was alright as a drip brew, but it really shined as an SO espresso. I began to prep my little machine.

"Nah man," he replied, "Actually I gotta go. That grass ain't going to cut itself. We still up for disk golf next week?"

"I already got the blunts rolled my brother."

"All right, see you later my friend."

Then with a slap on my back he was gone. Good old Jesus. He might not show up for the apocalypse, but he will always be there for a good cup of coffee.

Fartacus

In case you could not tell from the last post, one of the latest shows that I ended up cracking out to lately was the soft core porn  action historical drama: Spartacus. What  a great fucking show! I mean, it has an insane amount of violence, sex scenes at every corner and even some pretty good twist and turns that keep you guessing where the action is going.

You also get to see Lucy Lawless tits in practically every single freaking episode.

Sure, thanks to the classic flick by Kubrick, we all know where this show is going...

But still, it sure is a whole lot of fun watching the journey

After hearing that a lot of guys had turned this show into a T&A drinking game (you have to drink twice when Zena's mammalian protuberances show up) I decided I was going to do a shot of SO Ethiopian Wet-Process Jimma- Duromina Coop Espresso every time I saw boobs and booty during an episode.

I half an hour later, there was a giant hole in my chest and my dog, the lil turd, had run off with the heart. Thankfully, instead of eating  it, he hid it in a pile of dirty clothes so he could munch on it later. My girlfriend, knowing all his favorite hiding spots quickly found it, sewed it back in, and then started it back up with a pair of jumper cables and a hypodermic needle full of the best Crank that she could find on a Sunday afternoon.

Speaking of Crank

I am not sure whether Ethiopian WP Jimma DC (12 OZ roasted on P3 for 20:30 in my Behmor Roaster) makes a super strong espresso that rivals crank or if I am just becoming sort of a caffeine pussy, but drinking it has been making me more jittery than usual. I think I may need to stock up on some more SWP Decaf and try it as a half-caf blend instead.

As for Spartacus...

Next time I might try the "taco" game instead.

They call that one Fartacus

Spartacus Dream

After drinking too much of a new experimental blend of Rwanda/SWP Decaf  through my espresso machine while watching Spartacus "God of the Arena" and promptly falling asleep  I had a vivid dream in which I was a fierce Germanic Barbarian who had been captured by the Romans and made to fight as a Gladiator.


These were my weapons: The Patio Umbrella of Annoyance and a pair of Galoshes. I was forced to practice with these weapons of choice from sun up to sun down, pausing for a little gratuitous sex break with the other slaves at high noon. The Doctore would  then crack his whip and we would go back to fighting in our g-strings while the beautiful wealthy patrons watched us with wanton and flush expressions on their face. Dubbed the "Mad German" I practiced hard and soon learned how to use the umbrella as a shield and the tied together galoshes as a sort of nunchuck type of weapon which worked pretty well after filling them with rocks.

It was the night of the big fight, all the Roman Big Wigs were in the Arena and I was to fight Heavy Fucking Metal, a much feared creature from space that the Romans had captured during their intergalactic excursions through space and time via a portal that they discovered at an ancient Greek Oracle site. HFM's weapon of choice was "The Bass of Doom" which looked like it could cleave my head in two.

Thankfully, the intergalactic monster machine was chained to the wall to prevent him from using his retro rockets and escaping. He was forced to play his bass in attempt to use its sonic discharges to knock me over. I open my umbrella to protect and annoy and then let my galosh-nunchucks fly, scoring a direct hit around the beast's instrument.

Heavy Metal howled out an Alien Howl and struggled to shake away the troublesome boots as I advanced with my Patio Umbrella of Annoyance to the chants of the overwork crowd. A quick cut to a Roman Peasant flashing her boobs, a shot of tequila swallowed, and then back to the action, as I, the Mad German, advanced ever closer to my destiny with the metal fused beast.

Suddenly, the beasts hands were free and he pounded out a chord that shook the stadium and collapsed my umbrella inward.

Suddenly I was airborne, the sonic wave lifting me like a Tsunami and carrying me out of the Arena. I was free. I crash landed on a mysterious Mediterranean Island where I was then captured by Amazons and forced to serve as the Queen's footstool.

It was then I realized it had all been dream.

The realization snapped me out of it and a I woke in a cold sweat vowing never to drink even a half-caf espresso so late in the evening again.  Heck, I am not even German.

Decaf and Behmor

While, I am trying to jump on the wagon, the Behmor Roasting Wagon that is. You see, I had taken a little break from it, probably because I was over caffeinated a bit and started tweaking out in odd places. This forced me to cut down on my coffee intake, which then caused me to let my Behmor 1600 collect a little dust.

I still drank it mind you, but only in the morning and perhaps once in the while in the afternoon, but, for me, this is like going cold turkey. This is probably the reason behind all these damn movie reviews littering my site.

Anyways, I feel better now, a bit less jittery and I have also gotten sick of the crap I had been buying in the store. So, I went back to Sweet Marias and loaded up on a few elbows of an Espinola from El Salvador, as well as some organic offerings from Rwanda. Also, just to play it safe, I also got me a pound of SWP Decaf, which I heard is like the O'Douls of Decaf. So they still make O'douls? I remember drinking that with my old man who was a teetotaler.

So far, the Espinola has been standing out. The Rwanda failed to get my attention, bu that may because I roasted it on the P1 setting instead of the P3, like I wanted. The P1 sometimes lets the bean burn too hot too soon and giving them less character. The decaf, well the decaf tastes a bit like dirt, delicious dirt. It doesn't pack the punch I crave, but it also helps me get to bed at night.

Hot new espresso Pics

Yeah baby, check it out...

I got me a new espresso make a few months ago and finally got around to getting some hot new pics of it in action. My usual photographer, Pierre van Bundy, had recently gone on a crack binge that lasted from christmas to Presidents Day, so I was without his services for a while. Finally I found him again in the Taco Bell Dumpster looking for left over chulpas, pulled him out, brushed him off and then put him to work taking these steller shots of my sweet little Delonghi in action.

Yah Baby, look at it get all hot and steamy. Old Pierre may be missing the rest of his teeth, but he still has got the magic touch with his old cellphone camera. Look at how he captures all the hot steamy action frothing out of the twin nipples of this simple little device. Fuck, just looking at at it gives me a boner.

Oh wait a minute, no, that boner is probably from that crushed viagra pill I snorted a few minutes ago.

Okay, I know that according to some forums, the model that I got is not the best around. Okay, so it ranks up there with the type of toothless hooker that would hook up with old Pierre. But you know what? Just like that toothless tranny, it does a good job, just don't expect any bells and whistles with the package.

Hey Oscar

Its almost time for the Oscars and not wanting to look like an idiot, the girlfriend and I having been boning up on all the Oscar hopefuls. We do this so we can scream at the TV absurd things to each other like:

" I can't believe Alice in Wonderland won best costume design, The mother fucking Tempest should won that hands down!"

or:

"See I told you The Social Network was going to win best sound mixing, booyah! Drink up Biaatch."

Okay, so I will confess, I had to jump to a different site that listed all the nominees in order to order to reference those two lines. Also for the record me and the GF do not talk to each other like that. Well, at least she doesn't talk to me like that.

I mean, come on , very few of us give two shits about things like best sound mixing or best set design am I right? Sure, these things do play an important role when it comes making a a kick ass movie and those artists who work hard in the field of set design, sound editing and costume design definitely deserve some recognition from their peers and all that sincere sounding bullshit, but really come on, none of us hoi polloi really care.

We just want to dig into the main course.

We want to find out who won in the big categories, not the ones that are there to help make the losers feel better about themselves...

"Hey Kate,I will have you know Avatar won three Oscars!"

"Yeah I know James,you won for cinematography, Art Direction and Special Effects, so kiss my Best Director and Picture ass biaatch!"


According to mt research that is how Kate Bigelow and James Cameron do talk to each other.

So anyway, we tolerate these little appetizers, because we know people in Hollywood have low self esteem and also know that this Awards show needs a bit of filler in order to feel like more of an event other of our Ritz cracker entrees, but still we are all just waiting to hear about the big winners.

"Dude, if fucking Natalie Portman doesn't win, I swear to god I am going to shit my pants with rage!"

"I know dude, she totally nailed that Lesbo scene."



We are there to know about the best actors and actresses, the best director and of course the best damn picture. I mean, we do not go out there and watch The Social Network because it got nominated for the best adapted screenplay. I mean, who the fuck is Aaron Sorkin anyway? No, we put on the the top of your Netflix Que (its available by the way) because everyone is saying that its considered one of the favorites for Best Picture. It is probably the same reason we go to that one dingy little independent theater downtown in order to catch The King's Speech, not because its a shoe in for best set design.

Anyway, thats what I did.

So we pretty much got most of the contenders down now, with a few exceptions. I still haven't got around to seeing The Fighter yet. We also still need to check out that other lesbian couple flick (The kids are all right) and Winter's Bone and 127 Hours. Oh shit, I almost forgot about Toy Story 3. Crappers, when did they start picking so many nominees.

Damn I gotta go to the movies, I will get to this later.

Even More Movie Reviews

Not wanting to be left of out of the Oscar conversation, I went ahead and put "The Social Network" in my Netflix Cue and went and saw The King's Speech" at the artsy fartsy little theater just up the street from my apartment.

Oh man, another fucking movie review? What gives BS, how com you are not talking about coffee anymore?

Okay, so one of these days I will get around to talking about coffee and how it turns me on. Until then, dear reader, you will have to put up with these damn Movie Reviews. Besides, ever since I did my taxes on Turbo Tax, I discovered that if I write a review of all the movies that I go see, I can actually write off the cost of the ticket. So it is pretty much like paying myself to go to the movie. Unless, of course, I somehow make make some actual money from this damn blog, which at this moment seems like a very remote possibility.

So anyways back to the King's Speech.

I thought this was one of the best movies I have seen all year. Perhaps even better than Inception. The acting was superb and the story was engrossing enough for me to ignore the sound of the hissing oxygen tank that a geriatric patron had brought in with him. I mean, do not get me wrong, I am all for old people keeping in touch with the latest movies, and understand that this wry and dry British Drama is exactly the type of flick old people want to watch, but still, why the heck did they have to sit in the same row as me?

Ok, ok enough bitching. At least there weren't any kids running laps around the theater like the one time I went in saw King Kong. As I said, the King's Speech was easily the best movie of the year and the wonderful acting by everyone involved (especially Colin Firth) kept me captivated and enabled me to ignore the ticking hisses that were escaping from the oxygen tank seated 10 seats down from me. I thought this film was a great look into the intimate lives of the Royal Family during the dawn of the Modern Era and how lonely it is to be King. I think it probably had more to say about the loneliness that pervades in this era of connectedness than the Social Network without trying to beat the viewer over the head with it.

It totally deserved the Oscar.

And that is all I have to say about that.

Woah, wait a minute BS...

Is that all you are going to say about the Oscars? Really, after all that talk about them?

Well okay: James Franco looked stoned and Anne Hathaway looked pretty hot. I also appreciated the F-Bomb dropped by that chick from The Fighter. Other than that it, it was the pretty much the most boring Oscar Show ever, on par with The Grammys. Judging from the ratings, thats what everyone else thought too. Maybe next year they will get Ricky Gervais to host it in order to add a little kick to it.