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Iced Coffee Disorder

More of the Iced stuff please.

10 . 02 . 14

 

 

My friend told me I have an iced coffee disorder. Huh? You and I are on the same page if that was your second thought after – what?

I didn’t realize yesterday was the first day of October and that two days prior was National Coffee Day. I’m having trouble mentally getting out of the season of crops tops and Speedos.

Although for me, every day is National Coffee Day. I wake up, briskly brush past my boyfriend and over to my coffee maker, because at 7AM pushing buttons and measuring ground beans is the most enticing thing I could possible think of because I know the result is pure heaven in a cup.

After a couple of sips of the freshly made, almost sinfully erotic scented steaming brown liquid, I greet my boyfriend and can start being as human as I know, until 3PM when I need my second fix.

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GQ suggests that we are living in the Golden Age of Coffee, and I couldn’t agree more. From push-button machines and French presses to Stumptown, a coffee chain named after myself, (not really) and viciously educated baristas, we have it all and our very own intimate relationship with java.  We all have our favorite type, place and kind of way we ship on the good stuff.

Since the true chill of fall is a breath away and October is officially upon us, it’s almost that nerve wracking time of year when most of society switching from iced coffee to hot. A truly wonderful moment for some, clearly so because coffee’s big day takes place on September 29, the turning point for drinkers.  It’s now the time when holding something hot while outside in the cold delivers a wonderful nurturing sensation.

Honestly though, that feeling generally passes just a quickly as it was brought on. Whether this is true or not, I find I get a greater amour of energy that lasts for a longer period of time from the cold stuff. Like a wonderful timed released pill. Even in the cold winter months I will be shivering down Price St. holding an iced cup surrounded in a think layer of napkins. Because it’s not just about layering sweaters in February.