Rocket Fuel

Along with my newfound corporate whoredom (workin' for the man every night and day) has come a stereotypical debilitating caffeine addiction. I tried to stop it -- to resist the thrall of Starbucks's delicious seasonal treat: the pumpkin spice latte; to ignore the blinding headache caused by stimulant withdrawal. But, alas, I am weak. And, unfortunately, I am also poor, which means that Starbucks and its delicious overpriced beverages and oh so tempting egg salad sandwiches (seriously, they're awesome) is out of the question. I am therefore reduced to purchasing 20-oz. Diet Dr. Peppers from the vending machine or swilling the free coffee they provide at work. As luck would have it, I'm completely out of cash (payday is tomorrow!), so I am on my second cup of hot liquid shit. We even have one of those spiffy "Pods" coffee-makers to keep people from fucking up the delicate balance required to brew coffee. Someone seems to have forgotten, however, the old "garbage in, garbage out" adage. The refills they buy for the machine are just foul. But my body's caffeine craving will not be ignored, so I pop in a Pod, hold my nose, and gulp it down. Why fight it? I work in DC. It is my destiny to become an over-caffeinated yuppie.

*Side note: I inexplicably have REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" stuck in my head. Perhaps it's related to my housemate's recent Journey marathon... or maybe it's just a sign that I need to seriously revamp my iPod playlist.