Garoupa troupa

This is dedicated to the little girl who just said that all tea tastes the same, but only because I bet she can't use an RSS aggregator.

I had had enough tea to kill a horse. Okay, that's an understatement. I had had enough sweet corn to kill a horse, but I had had enough tea to kill a whole village of horses. The horses constructed a village, then they had a big schism because some of them wanted to become centaurs, then there was a war, then they had to rebuild the village, and now they're living in constant fear of being wiped out by tea.

I had some cold, leftover tea for breakfast. I had milk tea for zweites Frühstück. I had milk tea for drittes Frühstück. Okay, drittes Frühstück was nothing more than a mug of milk tea and a glass of water. Then at dim sum, I was doubly foiled by a lack of 菊花茶. Doubly. I won't get into the details, but we ended up settling on some jasmine. I have a very shaky relationship with jasmine tea, but I didn't want to be difficult. I won't get into the details.

A couple hours later, my heart was doing handstands. It stopped. It started. It did a jig. It projected itself into the future, fondled the Shrike inappropriately, and returned, only skipping four beats. Disco. It shifted itself into the eighth dimension, did a pirouette, and installed a gopher server. My other organs eyed it with disgust and contempt.

It is no wonder then that I concluded I should have no more tea, then made the ridiculous decision to walk into a Cantonese restaurant for dinner. If this is not a clear case of Thanatos mixed with some idiocy and veal stock, then swirled around in a cocktail shaker until I get tired of this metaphor, then I… get tired of this metaphor.

I have some beer to help lower my pulse to 180, though I know it will elevate my blood pressure even more, and my blood pressure is already at about 3500 volts. So when I finish the bottle, the waiter asks if I want some tea. How can I refuse? He wanders off, and a second waiter appears out of the shadows, and asks me if I want some tea. Again I agree. Reinforcing it makes it better. Then he drops the question. This guy is my homeboy: he asks if jasmine is okay. I casually inquire what choices I might have that don't suck. He is about to respond when waiter #1 drops a teapot on my table. Surprise, it's jasmine. I surrender. Homeslice ain't having it though: he offers to trade me for something else. He gives me some options and I opt for the 龍井茶. He mumbles something informative and largely irrelevant, not suspecting that I just want to play tic-tac-toe in the 井. Surprisingly, I don't.

Then I had mango pudding even though I had it at lunch too.