Discomfort Mugs

Times are tough these days, and the Solipsist wants you all to know that he feels your pain.  Literally.  It's a sort of burning sensation.  Allow him to explain.

In an effort to save a little pocket money and to work off a bit of excess stomach, the Solipsist has resolved to start walking to work.  It's not an overly strenuous walk: About a mile each way, and on the way THERE, it's mostly downhill.  But this alternate mode of transportation does mean that YNSHC must forego his morning trip to Starbucks.

(Digression: The Solipsist is not actually encouraging you to click to Starbucks' homepage.  (Of course, he's not DIScouraging you either.  Knock yourself out.)  Consider this more of an experiment to see if by adding corporate links he can attract sponsors.   Shameless self-promotion?  You bet! It's all about the Benjamins, people.  End of digression.)

See, Starbucks is a little out of the way, plus it's more of a drive-through experience.  We hope that our local baristas will not miss us too much.

(Digression: What does it say about our society that "barista" does not trip the spell check, but "Barack" (and for that matter, "Obama") does?  End of digression.)

Where were we?  Ah, yes.

So the Solipsist isn't going to Starbucks, but he still needs his morning coffee.  So, he went to his local Lucky's  and purchased one of those travel mugs: red and shiny; screw-top lid; latch that can be set open or closed.

But here's the thing and the motivation behind today's rant: Do these mugs EVER work right?  The Solipsist has owned this kind of accoutrement in the past.  He swore them off, though, because invariably the lid wouldn't screw on right or--as is the case with this latest purchase--no matter how the latch is set--open or closed or somewhere in between--one can simply not get a proper flow of coffee to one's lips.  First the coffee comes out in a trickle like an old man's urine (sorry for that image, but, y'know, it's apt).  But then when you tilt the cup further and further back, of course, a big splash of coffee ultimately comes gushing out and over your chin and down your chest like. . . well, OK, like a diarrhea sufferers poop.

(Again, we apologize for the imagery, but you can see that this experience has put YNSHC in a firmly scatological mood.)

It's really one of those, "If they can put a man on the moon" type quandaries: Seriously, how hard can it be to perfect a travel mug out of which one can actually drink?  

'Cause, really, the Solipsist doesn't WANT to feel your pain!  Especially when it also messes up his shirt!