My roommate, Noah, was reading about civet coffee yesterday. Why? I haven't the slightest. I likes me some coffee now & then (I'm more of a tea & beer man) but civet is really just disgusting. It comes from Sumatra (Noah read me the whole description) & is not actually harvested from the tree/bush the coffee cherries (I did not know they were called "cherries" on the tree) grow on. No, they wait until the civet cat, a rare kitty, indigenous to Sumatra, eats the cherries (only the best & plumpest, apparently) & then they go through the cat's . . . um . . . feces for the stones which become the coffee beans. I'm assuming they wash them. I'm hoping they wash them. (C'mon, they gotta wash them!) Sumatrans say it's the best coffee you'll ever have & there's no aftertaste due, perhaps, to a fermentation process that occurs during the digestion process. (!) This stuff can sell for up to $100 a cup in fancy coffee houses. (!!)
To me, this is like the dirty little secret of the coffee industry. (Either that or there's a whole lot of folks our there with too much money which I will gladly take from them & by crap I think has value.) So I got to thinking of any dirty little secrets I might have. Not sexual ones or things like that (honestly, there aren't any - I'm a pretty boring guy that way) but things I did in my younger days that might embarrass me or freak others out if they should learn about them now. So, here we go:
Hi, my name is Micah & . . . I squish frogs.
Well, I used to. In my bare hand.
I don't know! Really! And don't look at me that way - I haven't done it in about 20 years. It's just something I did as a kid. I was only about 6 or so. (That's before the age of reason, right?) I would just pick up the frog - or toad, I wasn't picky - & squish the li'l guy in my hand. Eyes would bug, guts would come out of mouths . . . stuff like that. Then, I'd drop them & run as if the great protector of all amphibians would appear & squish me. (Yes, I have seen Pan's Labyrinth &, yes, the frog sequence scared the shite out of me.)
(SIGH) OK. That's my True Confession, my dirty little secret.
I feel better now. Thanks.
Yeah, it's not something I'd spill on a first date. Again. Yes, I went there. I have no clue why I brought it up but I can still see her face as I was telling my story, her eyes getting wider & wider so that I could actually see myself reflected back on her retina, all tiny & upside-down. I could smell the subtext between her words: "This guy is another, less cute, Ted Bundy & I would like to be raptured now, please."
I'm seriously thinking about not posting this. Oh, well. Please don't tell PETA.
To me, this is like the dirty little secret of the coffee industry. (Either that or there's a whole lot of folks our there with too much money which I will gladly take from them & by crap I think has value.) So I got to thinking of any dirty little secrets I might have. Not sexual ones or things like that (honestly, there aren't any - I'm a pretty boring guy that way) but things I did in my younger days that might embarrass me or freak others out if they should learn about them now. So, here we go:
Hi, my name is Micah & . . . I squish frogs.
Well, I used to. In my bare hand.
I don't know! Really! And don't look at me that way - I haven't done it in about 20 years. It's just something I did as a kid. I was only about 6 or so. (That's before the age of reason, right?) I would just pick up the frog - or toad, I wasn't picky - & squish the li'l guy in my hand. Eyes would bug, guts would come out of mouths . . . stuff like that. Then, I'd drop them & run as if the great protector of all amphibians would appear & squish me. (Yes, I have seen Pan's Labyrinth &, yes, the frog sequence scared the shite out of me.)
(SIGH) OK. That's my True Confession, my dirty little secret.
I feel better now. Thanks.
Yeah, it's not something I'd spill on a first date. Again. Yes, I went there. I have no clue why I brought it up but I can still see her face as I was telling my story, her eyes getting wider & wider so that I could actually see myself reflected back on her retina, all tiny & upside-down. I could smell the subtext between her words: "This guy is another, less cute, Ted Bundy & I would like to be raptured now, please."
I'm seriously thinking about not posting this. Oh, well. Please don't tell PETA.