Don't Mix The Coffee Mate!

I have never been coffee drinker, having missed the opportunity years ago to develop a taste for it. It surely has to be an acquired taste.  I love the smell of brewing coffee but I have just never cared  for the taste. So after getting tired of hearing "You don't drink coffee, are you human?" so many times I have decided to prove that I am human (coffee may be my only shot at proving this). It has proved to be at best tolerable.... if....I put in enough sugar to put me into a diabetic coma and enough Coffee Mate to disguise the taste of the coffee. I thought I was doing good and had finally joined the ranks of coffee drinkers world wide. My son proved to me today that I am living in a dream world, I am not a coffee drinker. I am a Coffee Mate drinker. This was decided when I had a Coffee Mate melt down this morning. I don't have any idea what brand coffee I have in the kitchen since I have tried so many different brands thinking I might find one that I actually think tastes good. I have not and most likely by now there are many different brands mixed together in that canister.  I can't tell the difference, they all taste the same to me. BUT...dammit I know what brand of coffee creamer I like and nothing else will do. I send Demon Seed to the store to get Coffee Mate so I can torture myself with a cup of coffee because I am told all coffee drinkers have to have coffee first thing in the morning. I am having a little problem with that considering I have spent years thinking Coke was the "morning drink" of choice, at least it is in my world. He comes back and asks if I want him to fill the canister with the creamer. I say yes not really pay attention to him because he is a teenagers and if you pay too much attention to what they are saying it makes you suicidal or homicidal. Both unattractive traits in a mother. I walk into the kitchen to see him commit a crime, punishable by death. He is putting an off brand creamer in my Coffee Mate cannister and mixing it together! I immediately had Coffee Mate Meltdown. I whined and I yelled and he is standing there looking at me as if I just told him I was running off and marrying a minister and he was going to be forced to live in a church rectory. He tells me to calm down, it's only coffee creamer. Did he really just say that? Only coffee creamer! For God's sake he is fucking with my Coffee Mate and I am suppose to smile and be happy? I pour the mixed together creamer out in the trash and refill the canister with my beloved Coffee Mate. To calm me down he offers to make me a cup of coffee. I agree but I have to get my cup ready, put my own sugar and creamer in. I no longer trust this child to handle my creamer with the respect it so deserves. I get my cup ready, the coffee finishes brewing and he goes to pour me a cup. In disbelief he turns and asks me just where the coffee is suppose to go because there is so much Coffee Mate he doesn't have room to put more than about a 1/4 cup of coffee in my mug. When I tell him that yes, that is the correct coffee calculation he realizes the seriousness of my addiction and of his earlier crime. He then tells me that I am not even really drinking coffee I am drinking Coffee Mate. Of course I am drinking coffee, there is some in that cup!  There is no scientific formula for the correct amount of coffee vs creamer. I am within my legal rights to drink it any damn way  I want!

I need to ask for a moment of silence and if it's not too much trouble lighting a candle would be appropriate. We are in deep mourning at our house today. I fear The Devil's Advocate will not recover from this devastating blow. The unthinkable has happened. The XBox has passed on. His social life and sense of self worth is severely affected now that he is cut off from his online gaming community.  Tonight I will not hear the occasional, but so comforting, screams of "Die, motherfucker!" coming from his bedroom. Without that how will I know he hasn't climbed out his window and joined an armed street gang? I hope we survive the next two days until the new one is delivered. Expensive? Yes, but it keeps him off the streets and you can't put a price tag on that!

Poor child has also suffered another blow this week. He broke up with this week's girlfriend. She was "getting to clingy", which loosely translates to "she thinks I need to call her every day".  I don't know this one's name. I don't feel too bad about this since when I ask him what her name was he replied "Jessa...no wait that was the last one!"  I don't even try to remember their names anymore, I just call them all "hon", it's easier that way. I suggested he might want to try that tactic too. With my Fibro it takes me longer than a week to memorize their name and by then they are already gone. It doesn't help any that he goes for the same "look", all brunettes with brown eyes. This kid can go from single to committed and then back to single again faster than I can swallow a Klonopin. He can literally go to the grocery store for me and come back with a new victim girlfriend. Eventually we will have to move, sooner or later he will run out of girls in our city and if I am ever going to have hopes of getting rid of him him becoming a responsible adult and moving out I will have to take him to a larger hunting ground. One "where no one knows his name".

I think McDonald's tried to sabotage us last night. The Devil's Advocate sent me a text from his bedroom(it's hard for him to hear me with the Turtle Box headphones that are permanently attached to his head) about midnight saying "We should go to Sonic and get some ice cream". When there is fast food involved it doesn't take much to convince me and at the time going out in 17 degree weather for ice cream in the middle of the night made perfect sense to me. After fighting off my hysterical pug, who has major separation issues, to get out the door we made a break for it.  We didn't turn the outside lights on, just made a run for the car. to get out of the cold. We didn't get far, the next thing I see is my son flipping in the air and landing on the sidewalk. Some idiot had put a table, yes a table, at the edge of our porch leading to the sidewalk. After a few choice words from the both of us we move the table to the side (nothing stops me on a fast food run) and continued on our way. We come back and again make a run for the door, this time to the warmth of the house. Again, my son is ahead of me and does another mid air flip. Whoever the idiot is has moved that table right back into the same spot. Thank God I was carrying the food, if my fast food had scattered all over the porch I would have been going door to door hunting the idiot down with a plastic knife. Nothing comes between me and my fast food! Not being in a hurry and being motivated by the bright lights of a fast food restaurant this time we weren't so nice and threw the table out in the middle of the yard. I get up this morning and there is the table again. Right back in the same spot. I did go door to door this time and no one claims to know anything about this table or who it belongs to. Several also fell over the silly thing last night and this morning, they have also been moving it out of the way. This time my neighbor carries it to the dumpster and shoves it in.  My son left a few minutes ago, he probably heard about a new neighborhood he hasn't trolled for girls in yet, and called me on his cell to tell me the table is back again and in the same spot. Not a single person in this complex has seen anyone near this table so we have no idea who is doing this or why. I personally think it is McDonald's. They got wind that we were going to Sonic instead of our usual midnight run to them and this is payback.

Can someone explain to me why men can't just get up and go to bed (better yet, go home) when they are sleepy? Why do they feel the need to lay on the sofa and snore so loudly that I can't even hear NeNe Leaks screaming on The Real Housewives of Atlanta? Do you realize how loud that has to be to drown out NeNe? Why did he even come over here?  I was rude, I didn't put out, didn't cook anything, refused to watch stupid combat movies or hunting reality shows, talked to him through a haze of Valium and let my pug climb all over him in the hopes that he would leave and go home. But did he? No, instead he laid on my sofa and irritated me with his snoring and ball scratching. Tonight my phone is on silent and I will pretend to be out of town. If that fails and I get caught I do have several episodes of Toddlers and Tiara's I can force him to watch.