At about the eighth cup of coffee, the caffeine hits you harder than a double shot of whiskey.
Yeah, I know... caffeine's an upper and alcohol's a downer. But I'm telling you, it's hard to tell the difference once you get going.
I'm swimming in coffee these days. I quit liquor, cigarettes, and women all at the same time, so this is about all I've got.
Okay, the woman actually quit me because of the liquor and the cigarettes. But you get my point: Most people don't have three addictions at the same time in their whole life-much less try to quit three at the same time.
This place is busy, tonight. I don't know why.
Look here... if you spit when you've had a few cups of coffee, it looks like you've been chewing tobacco. You spit some on the floor by your table and no one'll want to come near you-which is good, if you want some privacy.
The waiters? Nah, they don't have the balls to come up and tell you you can't do that. I mean, maybe if you spat on their shoe they'd have a problem, but as long as you give them a little smile and a nod they'll let it go. Not too many of them want to risk losing a tip just because they'll have to mop the floor a bit afterward.
Hold that thought, I'll be right back.
Man, I was just in the bathroom and I saw one of the funniest things I've ever seen. They've got this warning sign over the urinal, right, and it says in big letters, "Please don't put your cigarette butts in the toilet." But just when you think it's the management being all uptight, you see the small print below that says, "It makes them soggy and hard to light."
Isn't that the best?
Yeah, yeah... the girl. She didn't go for the alcohol and cigarettes. But she'd down coffee like nothing, let me tell you. Decaf, sure, but it's all about the same.
Besides, you go around her place at prime time and see if she isn't glued to the TV. You want to talk about addictions, there's one that'll take a chunk out of your life. At least the alcohol and cigarettes encourage you to get out and meet people.
How? Just think about it. What's the only thing any stranger on the planet will give you if you ask? Well?
Damn right, a cigarette.
And how often do you see a solitary drunk? Sure, in movies. But in real life you only see two types of drunk: the crazy, outgoing drunk who sits at the bar and makes friendly with everyone in the room, and the lonesome drunk who likes to sit by himself with his liquor and his cigarettes and his loneliness, but who nonetheless is always out at the bar.
Because they're solitary? I don't follow.
Anyways, back to the girl. We had a few good years. She was usually up for a go and all that. We could always talk; you know, about TV and such. Made some good eggs too.
But then, one night, she caught me out at the bar with the boys from work-Frankie and Billy and them. My glass was about half-full, and it was only about my third, but that was enough for her.
What was she doing there? I don't know... I didn't think about it at the time. She was dragging some guy around. I think maybe her brother was visiting, but I'm not really sure.
But I don't need her anyway. There wasn't anything she gave me I can't give myself.
There's one thing? You're right... I can't make eggs like she could. When I try, they always get stuck to the pan and turn all brown and scaly on the outside.
Cooking spray, eh? Yeah, maybe that was her secret.
So... have I mentioned you're looking mighty nice tonight? I know she wouldn't approve if she was here, but what do I care about what she thinks now? Bottoms up.
Hey waiter, you got a light?