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Brian without caffeine equals snoozy snore

So I've been feeling lethargic lately, but it isn't because I realized that our country could soon be run by the Stay-Puft Tangerine Man. No, the reason I've been drooling, dimwitted and Trump-like lately is because I haven't had my morning coffee in over a week. In fact, I haven't had ANY coffee — morning, noon or middle of the night — since my coffeemaker mysteriously conked out on June 24 at 6:34 a.m. (I recorded all the facts in case I was called to testify after the neighbors heard the bloodcurdling bellowing that began promptly at 6:35 a.m.)

After slurping down the tiny pool of brown water the coffeemaker had offered up before shuffling off this caffeinated coil, I realized I had two choices: Go without my daily fix and ... struggle ... to ... form ... wordy ... things ... or, buy a bottomless cup of coffee at Perkins and make it last until 2067. Since I do have other commitments that are almost as important as coffee over the next 50 years, like a job and family, I opted to tough it out.

"Besides," I muttered to myself at a more acceptable volume once the shrieking had stopped, "that coffee pot's under limited warranty so I can get a replacement." I nodded vigorously (the last time I did anything vigorously). "Yeah, I can do this. Piece of cake."

Right. If that piece of cake was a mountainous obstacle of doom and despair that obliterated any hope for sanity and reason. With sprinkles.

My main stumbling block was the limited warranty itself. Turns out, the only thing limited were my options for getting a new coffeemaker. I had to jump through more hoops than someone trying to justify their support for the current Republican presidential candidate. Not only did I have to dig out my receipt, but I also had to scavenge the original box out of the basement and scour it for a model number that, of course, couldn't be printed on the broken appliance itself. Then, I had to carefully remove the plug head and mail it all back to the company for the low, low price of half the original cost of the coffeemaker.

Now I know what you're thinking. After all this rigamarole, why not just go buy a brand-new one and get your morning jolt replaced immediately? Because, gentle reader, much like our brash, toupee-topped, potential leader of the free world, I'm cheap. And stubborn. And if I am owed one replacement coffeemaker, then I am going to get one replacement coffeemaker.

And I'm ... going to ... stay ... awake ... untilitgetzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Brian Matuszak

Brian Matuszak is the founder of Rubber Chicken Theater and invites you to follow him and his theater company on Twitter at, like them on Facebook at Rubber Chicken Theater and visit their website at