The only time green is bad.

So I wake up this morning...er, afternoon, feeling a little shitty, a little dark, despite the suburban sunshine streaming through the blinds. I look over at the stuffed dog I've had since before my parents' divorce, who's been with me through good times and bad, who's let me cry on his shoulder after the popular kids made fun of me at school, and in return I performed emergency surgery on him when his neck seam burst and his life-stuffing threatened to drain from his body ...and he says, goddamn it you stupid lazy bitch, get your pathetic lard ass up and do something with your life.

Oh, well, okay.

I drag myself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee always calms me, lifts my spirits, brightens my mood. But because this is bucolic cowtown NJ, instant coffee will have to do. My mother has already put a ginormous mug of milk in the fridge... the mug that I painstakingly chose for her on my trip to Disneyworld during spring break of my senior year in college, the mug that has Mickey Mouse standing confidently with his mitts on his hips, with the words "Big Cheese" printed jauntily under him, as if he were the conquering emperor of the morning, casting off rays of happy sunshine fairytales which keep shitty feelings and ungrateful stuffed dogs at bay. I take it out, put it in the microwave, and look for the coffee. Cabinet 1 - just canned soup. Cabinet 2 - seven boxes of Swiss Miss hot chocolate and the familiar green canister...

Wait why is it green. It should be red. Green means...IT'S FUCKING DECAFFEINATED.

This is the type of bullshit that makes me want to kick pigeons. Let me revise the adage - You can't be a nonconformist if you don't drink caffeinated coffee. You hear me? CAFFEINATED!!

There really is no god.

Fuck.