Just What is in a Drinks Machine?
Its early Saturday morning, I am at work and I have just brought myself a drink of warm brown stuff from the machine that lives in our waiting area. As I slurp down foamy fluid my mind is desperately trying to work out what it is and whether or not I have even been given what I asked for. It could be tea but I am not entirely sure. It could be coffee, or possible the sedimentary suspension gathered from the bottom of a septic tank (with milk); how would I ever know? It occurs to me that if I understood more about the mysterious device from whence it came I might be able to discern more accurately what it has spat into my cup.
Knows more than it lets on….
I really do not trust this machine… I do not trust how much stuff the this cream-coloured obelisk of disappointment apparently contains. There at least ten drinks listed on the front, (probably more but after that I run out of fingers) all of which I am assured are actually varying beverages, and not just brown paint mixed with sugar in random ratios. After careful deduction and spectral analysing of these ten I have concluded that there six basic elements; tea, coffee, chocolate, milk, water and sugar (they are on the periodic table, just under the bit where the sheet ends). All of these must be contained in a device the size of the average fridge, which does not sound that unusual until you realise that there must also be space enough for the paper cups, the money thing and accommodation for the 57 science fairies that make it all run.
This is pretty much the extent of my understanding of the universe.
Also there has to be an infinite supply of everything. I have sat watching for days on end and never once seen anyone come to top it up or transplant any of its contents. There are no pipes entering or leaving it, so where is the water coming from? Are the Hydrogen Gnomes in a constant state of mass conjugation with the Oxygen Gnomes? (A-level Chemistry ftw!) On one occasion a cup failed to dispense and for a brief moment I believed I had finally discovered the machines limit. Sadly however on my second attempt one did appear, with no explanation as to whether this was the second cup or simply the first cup running late.
How does one store even store such a vast quantity of such things safely? Does the it involve protons or something? Should I be worried about the Spacial Reduction Field tainting the caffeine? What about radiation levels? I swear one time it started humming I briefly went blind. It can not have just been me blinking, as I have given that up (that’s when they get you). The answer might be simply that everything is highly pressured and piercing the machines case with a pin will cause it to rocket off over the horizon like a O2 cylinder into the face of a Bond villain. Maybe its just a gateway to a hellish chaos dimension consisting of brown runny stuff.
All of this analysis leaves me with two possibilities; that machine is either a liar or has some how mastered Alchemy.
Yeah that looks exactly like what is in my cup.
Either way drinking its excrement is probably not a safe idea, especially now that The Machine know I am onto it. But what choice do I really have? Not drinking tea? That’s the most insane idea of them all. I am destined to continue this dance of death until one of us is gone or start bringing my own tea bags. When my body is finally found I can only hope the evaluation of my stomach contents will in some small help mankind in its war against coffee machines. Good luck to you all.
Why I Now Know I’m An Adult
I’m at that funny sort of age now when I am finally starting to recognise that I’m not a kid any more. I’ve battled honourably to resist it, but the the bonds of time are finally starting to take their toll and I know that soon will go to join the world of mortgages, illogical weight-gain and being concerned about gas rates.
There are certain things that it seems only adults say or do and more and more frequently I find it is me who is saying them and doing them.
For example:
The other day I told a colleague I just needed to step out and move my car. I instantly felt disgusted with myself. Moving ones car might seem like a perfectly harmless thing to do, but lets analysis what it means a bit more…
Firstly the fact that I have a ‘colleague’ is sort of scary. Young people have ‘co-workers’ or ‘that guy I work with’. Adults use ‘colleague’. It implies that they have in a place long enough to understand that using a politically correct term is the only way they will continue to advance their career. Its a way of safely describing someone who you spend most of your time with but may not essentially like, and when you know you could well have much more time with them left to come… but this is all stuff for another day.
Back to the car. Firstly, the sentence ‘I’m just going to move my car’ shows that you are in fact old enough to drive a car (the horror). That means you are probably not still playing with your toy soldiers (unless you a general) or watching Saturday morning cartoons (which you would not do anyway because Saturday morning cartoons suck these days). But that’s okay right? You could still be young enough to be to be wild and free right? Nope.
I should clarify that I needed to move my car because I was in a 30 minute zone, and had been there for 40. Now I don’t want to make a crude generalisation but on the whole young people are reckless and crazy. They are happy to wildly park for 40 minutes in a 30 minutes zone, because they are reckless and crazy enough to take that risk. Its a Saturday, so the parking man probably is not even on. Young people still have that sense of optimism that allows them to drink vodka and dish soap with out fear of consequence.
But when you are an adult, you know that world is dark and depressing. You know that with your luck the parking man is working today, and probably just as annoyed about working on a Saturday as you are. He will slap you with a parking fine simply because he hates you, your car and everything you stand for. He also hates your dog.
So when I say ‘I’m just going to move my car’ its not a simple matter of avoiding a fine, its a sign that all light and hope in your has been crushed. Thats when you really start feeling like a grown up.
An old person apparently.
Greetings
Greetings everyone.
Well it’s now about the 21st century (as far as I’m aware) and the internet is pretty well established in our everyday lives. Whilst I enjoy most of the things the cyber-verse has offered me over the last few years, I can’t help feel but there is a distinct lack of me floating around in it. Apart from the pieces of my soul Google now holds of course.
In order to correct this imbalance, I felt the time was right to start blogging. Mostly because my sister had also started and there was no way I’m going to lose out on all of that internet fame to her… >:| I opened Word, went to make a cup of tea and now six years later I’m back, full of fresh ideas and more tea.
So I hope you like whatever I’m about to write about next, and if you don’t, I would not worry because I’m probably not going to either…
Ben