So that I didn't appear to be a total noob I ordered a small iced caramel coffee, thinking heck I like iced tea, maybe I like iced coffee. I'd even nabbed a newspaper and was settled down all grown-up like. All that was missing was a cigarette in my hand to turn me into a French film bombshell.
Feeling like a big-ol grown-up I took my first sip of coffee and it was so horrible I had to bite my lip to stop myself from spitting it out in front of all the "barista's".
I stirred the concoction and tried again, thankfully it now tasted sweet and kinda nice but a bit bitter like a very strong, very dark tiramasu.
I continued sipping my coffee while "tutting" over newspaper articles like a proper classy grown-up patting myself on the back for being so awesome.
"Look at me, sat in my coffee house, with my coffee pals, drinking my coffee, I'm so cool, I'm in the big kids club now. Look at me reading the paper cause I'm so grown-up and I care about what happens to the world"
D took ages to return and being British and having paid alot of money for a drink I didn't like, I drank it all up anyway, I didn't even let the fact they'd accidentally given me a large coffee stop me, so by the time D came back I'd consumed the entire thing. I didn't feel too bad...just a little bit buzzy, a little buzzy, bit buzzy. The only delightful side effect I noticed was that the hearing in my left ear had completely vanished.
Travelling home D started to notice "things" happening, I'd begun talking rapidly and started phoning random people that I hadn't spoken to in weeks. I power walked round the house suddenly announcing I was "faster than anything...ever" I was grinning inanely proclaiming everything was so much brighter and sharper then I began giggling hysterically....this is when he made me sit down and drink a glass of water.
This is also the point we discovered that for a coffee virgin I'd just consumed the equivalent of 3 espresso shots in one sitting.
I'm now feeling pretty sick and shaky. So to cheer myself up I gave my cats a new toy...which contained catnip. I didn't realise this or I'd never have bought it.
Roarke has a catnip "problem" because I was such a big drug pusher when he was a kitten. One day I was low on biscuit so I fed him the rest of some cat snacks. An hour later when he was actually bouncing off one wall, onto the sofa, then back onto the wall. I bothered to read the packet and realised I'd pretty much overdosed him on catnip treats. Since then he has had catnip "issues."
As soon as I started waggling the toy Roarke terminated it's life, then proceeded to carry it round the house pausing only to gnaw on it or to sit on it - while panting.
It's now somewhere high and given the fact he's been trying to jump up enough to reach it I think it's time to put it somewhere safe...like buried at the bottom of the garden.
Anyway I'm going to go now because I feel wretched and it's really unpleasant. I don't ever want a coffee again, ever...apart from the stuff in tiramasu 'cause that's wonderful, and I believe Roarke is feeling as bad as I do. We're currently in 'sofa rehab' curled up together, whimpering while D points and laughs at us chanting "haha you're crashing" over-and-over again.
How can something that made me feel so wonderful make me now want to kill myself?
D's rendering of what he found himself faced with