What is it about coffee?

Sipping god's nectar, brown gold, brain juice or, coffee as it's called by regular people seem to have become somewhat of a cultural revolution, it personifies people through what and how they drink it. So as I sit here drinking my coffee, which is by no means interesting compared to the wide array of cooky coffee concoctions currently available at your local watering hole, I can't help but ponder how this little cup of bliss brings out the quirkiest of personlity traits locked away in my couped up ego. I mean just on the moment of my coffee's arrival I'm already awe-struck by the elaborate, hell almost mystical, cute little love heart shape created by the artiste in charge of brewing my adrenaline hit. How is it possible, that such an elaborate piece of visual art, can be intended to be molested by my spoon as I pour and stir my sugar into the innocent coffee, it's nigh on artistic murder! But alas it does keep me coming back for more, hopefully assuring myself that because there is the same little heart on every baby coffee, that the decal merely appears and disappears to and from our reality, getting the hell outta here before it has to deal with any spoons. 

Safe in the assumed knowledge of the hearts safety, a glance at the café's wall reveals coffee cups galore, big ones, small ones, paper ones, glass ones, I feel I could safely assume coffee cups are about the most diversity many Americans will ever encounter. It's almost bewildering to think that if the lady to my right is drinking a café latte like myself, that it can be so, so, so different to mine, perhaps because of her previous marriage she sticks her pinkie out when she takes a sip and that from ordering coffee for so many years from different cafés she has made an almost obsessive compulsive habit of asking the waiter for two sugars, only to get the reliantly frequent reply "You put the sugar in yourself". Now assume that perhaps I can relate to her out-there two sugars and pinkie latte, then what if I attempt the unthinkable and speak to some exotic coffee drinker, someone who drinks say; saigon or dare I go as far as ... a mocha. One can only imagine what anecdotes they might provide: "Back in the summer of '92 I was baked off my tits when I discovered De-caf mocha with soy, been drinkin' it ever since", or "my ex drunk short black ferociously, he broke up with me because I couldn't keep up with his pace in almost everything, since then I drink one double shot short black with every meal in the hopes he'll take me back", yes I feel people who can't deal with a simple latte might just be to much of a handful for me. Unless of course the cute girl on table 7 drinks mocha... then I might just be able to make an exception.