Renegade

I tell you what, buying a fucking coffee has become unnecessarily complicated. There was a time when you walked into a café and asked for a coffee. That was it. "Coffee please." Somebody put coffee in a cup, you gave them some money, and everybody got on with their fucking day. Not anymore. Now you walk into somewhere like Costa and ordering a coffee feels like you're filling out a mortgage application. "What would you like?" Coffee. "Americano, latte, cappuccino, flat white, cortado, mocha, macchiato, espresso, double espresso, iced latte, iced Americano, frappe?" Fucking hell. I don't know. The brown one that wakes me up. Then comes the size. Small, medium, large, regular, tall, grande, massive, fucking oil drum. I'll have a large. Excellent. Surely we're finished. Oh no. "What milk would you like?" Milk. "Whole, semi skimmed, skimmed, oat, almond, coconut, soya?" Cow. Just whatever normally comes out of a fucking cow. Then they start offering you syrups. Vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, salted caramel, gingerbread, cinnamon, chocolate, white chocolate, pumpkin spice, sugar free vanilla, sugar free caramel. No. I wanted a coffee. I didn't come in to design a fucking Yankee Candle. But we're still nowhere near finished. Would I like an extra shot? Decaf? Half caf? An extra hot one? Skinny? Whipped cream? Cold foam? Chocolate sprinkles? Cinnamon dust? Caramel drizzle? Chocolate drizzle? Ice? Crushed ice? Less ice? More ice? At this point I'm expecting them to ask whether I'd like fucking underfloor heating installed. And there's always somebody in front of you who knows this system intimately. "Can I have a large iced skinny oat milk caramel latte, half sweet, extra hot, two pumps of vanilla, one pump of hazelnut, no foam, extra shot, light ice, whipped cream, caramel drizzle?" Fucking hell, Barbara. You're not ordering a drink. You're giving the launch sequence for a fucking nuclear submarine. Meanwhile I'm standing behind her thinking, "Coffee. Milk. Two sugars. Please let me go home." Then comes the price. "That'll be five pounds eighty please." FIVE POUNDS EIGHTY? For a fucking coffee? For that money I want to keep the mug. In fact, I want shares in the fucking building. And because you've already stood there answering twenty seven questions about milk and syrup, you just tap your card like you've developed Stockholm syndrome. Then they finally hand it over. And I've ordered the biggest fucking size they've got because, naturally, I'm thinking bigger cup means more coffee. Silly me. The cup's the size of a fucking paint tin, but about fourteen percent of it appears to be coffee. The rest is milk, foam, whipped cream, syrup, ice, chocolate dust, caramel drizzle and whatever other fucking building materials they've used to construct it. You've basically ordered a coffee and they've built a fucking extension on top of it. If you've gone for one of the cold ones it's even worse. You pick up this enormous plastic cup thinking you've got enough caffeine to see you through until Thursday, then realise three quarters of the bastard is ice. Six quid for twelve ice cubes, a splash of milk and a frightened little espresso hiding at the bottom. Take the ice out and your "large" coffee would fit in a fucking egg cup. And then there's the whipped cream. Fucking mountains of it. You've got to eat your way through half of the Alps before you even reach the beverage you actually ordered. By the time you finally locate the coffee, you've consumed eight hundred calories and you've got cream on your nose. At that point it's not a drink anymore. It's a fucking dessert with a caffeine problem. And somehow we've all just accepted this. We've gone from putting the kettle on and spooning Nescafé into a mug to standing in a queue while somebody called Tyler asks what fucking personality we'd like our milk to have. I don't need my coffee to be an experience. I don't need it handcrafted. I don't need it drizzled. I don't need it dusted. I don't need it topped with something that looks like insulation foam. I just want it hot, strong and capable of making me slightly less likely to tell everyone to fuck off before nine o'clock in the morning. It's coffee. Put it in a cup. Give it to me. And stop making me take a fucking GCSE before I'm allowed to drink it.

I own a motorcycle because of a personal life choice. One day when I am very old and when I can not ride anymore, it will be in my garage as a trophy of my memories. I have met people who taught me something and have the same spirit. I meet people now who get wisdom from me. I get wet, I get cold, And I have been hot, I was afraid, I fell, And I stood up, I even hurt myself, But also, I laughed out loud with the wind. I spoke a thousand times with myself and Still do. I sang and shouted with joy like a madman, And yes ... sometimes I cried. I have seen wonderful places because of motorcycles. I have taken bends that even my dad would be proud of; other times I took bends full of terror. I stopped many times to see a landscape. I spoke with perfect strangers. I go out with frustrations inside and return home with a feeling of absolute peace in my heart. I always think how dangerous it is, knowing that the meaning of courage is to advance even feeling fear. Every time I go up to my bike I think about how wonderful it is. I learned through gestures to communicate with other riders. I spend money that I do not have, I gave up many things, but it's all worth it... My bike is not a means of transportation but is a piece of iron with wheels that I am blessed with, it's part of who I am. I love my friends and the joy of great people & motorcycles!

A Jewish daughter says to her mother.. ..... "I'm divorcing Nathan." All he wants is sex, sex and more sex. My vagina is now the size of a 50-cent piece when it used to be the size of a 5 cent piece." Her mother says ..... "You're married to a multi-millionaire businessman, You live in an 8 bedroom mansion You drive a $250,000 Ferrari, You get $2,000 a week allowance, You take 6 vacations a year and You want to throw all that away... Over 45 cents..?"

Happy birthday @boboneleg and @MooN

A man who was driving a car with his wife was stopped by a police officer. The following exchange took place. The man says, "What's the problem, officer?" Officer: "You were going at least 75 in a 55 zone." Man: "No sir, I was going 65." Wife: "Oh, Harry. You were going 80." (The man gave his wife a dirty look.) Officer: "I'm also going to give you a ticket for your broken taillight. " Man: "Broken taillight? I didn't know about a broken taillight!" Wife: "Oh Harry, you've known about that taillight for weeks." (The man gave his wife another dirty look.) Officer: "I'm also going to give you a citation for not wearing your seat belt." Man: "Oh, I just took it off when you were walking up to the car." Wife: "Oh Harry, you never wear your seat belt." The man turned to his wife and yelled, "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" The officer turned to the woman and asked, "Ma'am, does your husband talk to you this way all the time?" The wife said, "No, only when he's drunk!"

A young man with his pants hanging half off his ass, two gold front teeth & a half inch thick gold chain around his neck, walked into the local welfare office to pick up his cheque He marched up to the counter and said, "Hi. You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job, I don't like taking advantage of the System, getting something for nothing." The social worker behind the counter said "Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a chauffeur and bodyguard for his beautiful daughter. You'll have to drive around in his 2018 Mercedes-Benz CL & he will supply all of your clothes." "Because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll also be expected to escort the daughter on her overseas holiday trips. This is rather awkward but you will also have to satisfy her sexual urges as the daughter is in her 20's and has a strong sex drive. The guy, wide-eyed, said,"You're bullshittin' me???" The social worker said, "Yeah, well . . . you started it.