Let's be real: my degree of sarcasm is directly proportional to the volume of coffee I've polished off. This stainless steel mug, however, isn't just a vessel for my morning ritual. It's a representation of my inner snark, and the perfect accomplice on my journey through life's banality. Occasionally, I even venture into conversations with it, sha

It's not a metaphor, it's fact. I desire my afternoon dose of brew like a human depends on oxygen. Truly, the thought of starting my day without it causes me unease. Latte doesn't influence much, as long as that bold flavor hits my taste buds. It's not just a drink, it's power for my being. I am a creature of custom, and that ritual is my coffee.