Thursday, September 12, 2002

I sure like tea. I drank a lot of it as little Robbie Hughes. I took my tea like any other youngster would—super-saturated with milk and sugar. So sweet and delicious. When I’d finished the tea there would be a slurry of semi-dissolved sugar at the bottom of the cup. That was the best part. I’d tilt the cup back and wait for the sugar to hit my lips. It oozed like wet concrete down a chute. When it reached my mouth, it was pure goodness…a total rush.

Despite all the tea, the Captain Crunch, the Coke floats, and the brownies, I was a pretty calm kid. I did ride my bike around a hell of a lot, though.

I’m reading A Head Full of Blue, an alcoholic’s autobiography, right now. Can’t you tell?

Back to the tea… I’m very well-catered for at work. There’s like 10 varieties to choose from, and they’re all one brand (except for a small crate of industrial-strength Red Rose). It cracks me up that the packaging for the caffeinated teas features a Ted McGinley male-model type, while the herbal/berry/lemony tea boxes show a wan Paltrow lookalike. In the afternoon sometimes I’ll have a cup of “lady tea” just for kicks. Perhaps I'm sensing the hysterical/sympathetic onset of “Bowser’s Curse.” In any case, hardly anyone else drinks the stuff, and I feel sorry for the Gwyneth tea.

Another thing—there’s no teapot at work. And tea made in the cup, especially the Red Rose, tastes like ass. Doesn’t stop me from drinking it, though. Would the coffee drinkers tolerate the same treatment?

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