I'm a dumpster diver. I've found a good part of my wardrobe in the trash or in boxes along the roadside. A while ago, in fact, I found the piece of clothing that would be the genesis of today's mis-adventure. It is a black T-shirt with a Kope Luwak logo and a picture of a spotted civet cat pooping out coffee beans into a cup. "Good to the last dropping" is the caption. The meaning remained a mystery until somebody stopped me on the sidewalk and asked me if I'd ever had kope luwak. I hadn't yet bothered to look up the meaning of those words so the stranger obliged: Wild civet cats on an island in indonesia eat coffee beans and then poop them out. Farmers gatehr the beans and use them to brew coffee. Hmmm, sounds interesting. I asked him where I could get some. He didn't know. Just not here. Intrigued, I began seeking it out. No luck finding anybody who sells in the Bay Area, but I found one place in Portland where I am now staying. Legare's.
Putting the rest of this one in NSFW tags due to scatological references.
Listening to GG Alin and the Murder Junkies streaming from the Geek-o-Sphere.
I finally got the Infinite Jukebox working (mostly). It fills half the room. The last of it was cleaning circuit boards with Duster and acetone, 4 hours of fighting IRQ conflicts, and several days of scanning IDv3 tags. But I still need to figure out how to set up a distributed MySQL database.
Coffee disaster.
I tried to make my own coffee this morning. My gf usually has it ready before I get out of bed (6 or 7 am), but she is staying with her sister for a few days. So I thought I would try to make my own. I had a pound of Philz coffee beans. Philz Coffee, along with Blue Bottle, have the best coffee (that I've found) in San fRancisco. I ground some in the electric grinder. So far so good. But then, the 1st thing to go wrong: I forgot to put water in the coffee machine. So, without water in the boiler to keep the temperature below 212F, the machine overheated and burned the ground coffee in the metal basket. I must have really been hungover from the kratom I ate last night -- I didn't realize my mistake until I smelled it burning.
Well, I thought the grounds would still be OK. They're only scorched a little. I mean that's how StarBucks beans smell all the time. They just call it a "super dark roast" or something. So I put water in the machine adn brewed that coffee, but what it eventually produced wasn't drinkable. Then I remembered that I'd been wanting to try kope luwak for a while, so I thoguth this might be a good day to try it.
So, I changed shirts and put on my cat shit coffee T-shirt and rode my bike to Legare's. Legare's is an Itallian style coffee shop and is the only coffee shop I have ever been to that has such an extensive selection of hard-to-find (in the US) beans... I ordered a cup. $15. For one cup. That's a lot, but it's been a quest and I would try it once, and if I liked it, maybe have it again on special occasions. It was brewed in a french press. I drink the coffee: Smooth body. Earthy and aromatic. Holds itself together.
Coffee, among it's many wonderful health benefits, has the property of stimulating the movement of one's bowels. Drink it daily and it helps keep you "regular." The ride home started smoothly except for a little rain, but right after I crossed the Ross Island Bridge over the Willamette River, my back tire went flat. So I locked my bike to a rack in front of a nearby restaurant, and walked 2 or 3 miles toward home. It was during the last mile or so when my bowels throbbed and spasmed threatening disaster...... I slowed down to a stiff-legged walk to try to hold it back and not jar anything loose.
à cul de foirard toujours abonde merde (Relais. Gargantua. I, 9). [a filthy asshole never lacks for shit.] I'm not sure how to relate this quote to the current entry, but I remembered it while I was doing that disgraceful stiff-legged walk down the city streets on my way home. 10 more minutes of walking and it's oozing out. Yeah people, I pooped my pants today. It was like toothpaste sliding down my leg. I'm getting close to home. Maybe 1/2 mile and it's starting to burn from sliding to where I had chaffing on my inner thighs from a run yesterday. And the friction. It feels like bits of sand are being ground in down there. Maybe it's gritty bits of undigested kratom leaf rubbing themselves into my chaffed skin. When this has happened on long runs (the reason I try to remember to take a dump before I leave the house). Because of wehre I usually run now - on trails in the woods or near the woods or bushes or places with toilets, I can take care of the problem when it comes up. But here, there is no place to go, no trees, secluded bushes, restaurants. All resedential here. Get to the covered patio behind my house. Now, I cant' make it into the house. There's some old newspaper in the corner. I drop my pants but I can't even get it on the newspaper. I crap all over the concrete instead. It seems to explode as it comes out. There's shit splatter and spray all over the place: the cement patio, some made it to the newspaper, on my pants, on my legs, on my hands, on the wall, on my other bike. What a filthy mess. shobble to a bucket and expliode again. I had to take a shower and change clothes.
Putting the rest of this one in NSFW tags due to scatological references.
NSFW:
Listening to GG Alin and the Murder Junkies streaming from the Geek-o-Sphere.
I finally got the Infinite Jukebox working (mostly). It fills half the room. The last of it was cleaning circuit boards with Duster and acetone, 4 hours of fighting IRQ conflicts, and several days of scanning IDv3 tags. But I still need to figure out how to set up a distributed MySQL database.
Coffee disaster.
I tried to make my own coffee this morning. My gf usually has it ready before I get out of bed (6 or 7 am), but she is staying with her sister for a few days. So I thought I would try to make my own. I had a pound of Philz coffee beans. Philz Coffee, along with Blue Bottle, have the best coffee (that I've found) in San fRancisco. I ground some in the electric grinder. So far so good. But then, the 1st thing to go wrong: I forgot to put water in the coffee machine. So, without water in the boiler to keep the temperature below 212F, the machine overheated and burned the ground coffee in the metal basket. I must have really been hungover from the kratom I ate last night -- I didn't realize my mistake until I smelled it burning.
Well, I thought the grounds would still be OK. They're only scorched a little. I mean that's how StarBucks beans smell all the time. They just call it a "super dark roast" or something. So I put water in the machine adn brewed that coffee, but what it eventually produced wasn't drinkable. Then I remembered that I'd been wanting to try kope luwak for a while, so I thoguth this might be a good day to try it.
So, I changed shirts and put on my cat shit coffee T-shirt and rode my bike to Legare's. Legare's is an Itallian style coffee shop and is the only coffee shop I have ever been to that has such an extensive selection of hard-to-find (in the US) beans... I ordered a cup. $15. For one cup. That's a lot, but it's been a quest and I would try it once, and if I liked it, maybe have it again on special occasions. It was brewed in a french press. I drink the coffee: Smooth body. Earthy and aromatic. Holds itself together.
Coffee, among it's many wonderful health benefits, has the property of stimulating the movement of one's bowels. Drink it daily and it helps keep you "regular." The ride home started smoothly except for a little rain, but right after I crossed the Ross Island Bridge over the Willamette River, my back tire went flat. So I locked my bike to a rack in front of a nearby restaurant, and walked 2 or 3 miles toward home. It was during the last mile or so when my bowels throbbed and spasmed threatening disaster...... I slowed down to a stiff-legged walk to try to hold it back and not jar anything loose.
à cul de foirard toujours abonde merde (Relais. Gargantua. I, 9). [a filthy asshole never lacks for shit.] I'm not sure how to relate this quote to the current entry, but I remembered it while I was doing that disgraceful stiff-legged walk down the city streets on my way home. 10 more minutes of walking and it's oozing out. Yeah people, I pooped my pants today. It was like toothpaste sliding down my leg. I'm getting close to home. Maybe 1/2 mile and it's starting to burn from sliding to where I had chaffing on my inner thighs from a run yesterday. And the friction. It feels like bits of sand are being ground in down there. Maybe it's gritty bits of undigested kratom leaf rubbing themselves into my chaffed skin. When this has happened on long runs (the reason I try to remember to take a dump before I leave the house). Because of wehre I usually run now - on trails in the woods or near the woods or bushes or places with toilets, I can take care of the problem when it comes up. But here, there is no place to go, no trees, secluded bushes, restaurants. All resedential here. Get to the covered patio behind my house. Now, I cant' make it into the house. There's some old newspaper in the corner. I drop my pants but I can't even get it on the newspaper. I crap all over the concrete instead. It seems to explode as it comes out. There's shit splatter and spray all over the place: the cement patio, some made it to the newspaper, on my pants, on my legs, on my hands, on the wall, on my other bike. What a filthy mess. shobble to a bucket and expliode again. I had to take a shower and change clothes.
It'd be nice to have a Bay Area contingency there.
