Men"s Only Coffee - Made by Maxwell House
I'm Not Man Enough For Maxwell House I have made a discovery: Maxwell House has created a new coffee - for men only! The morning of my 8th Anniversary, I had determined to make the day a special one for my husband, one he'd never forget.
As soon as I'd showered and washed my hair, prepared to doll myself up a bit so he'd forget what I normally look like first thing in the morning, I went to the kitchen to make him coffee.
Much to my delight, I discovered a fancy, newly repackaged, container of my favorite morning brew - Maxwell House (Original) Coffee - on the kitchen counter top.
I filled the coffee maker reservoir with the requisite water with one hand, while separating and preparing a filter with the other, yawning.
The plan was to wake my dear hubby with a great cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand, looking as radiant and lovely as possible.
Now he is the one who usually handles the coffee prep work in our house each morning - thank goodness - but I thought that, just this once, I could handle the responsibility all by myself.
I've been able to accomplish some slightly more difficult feats than this, after all! Well, I grabbed this handy-dandy, newly designed, container's handle and pulled the surprisingly light-weight 39oz.
of plastic toward me, applying upward pressure to the pop-open lid, already anticipating the wonderful aroma that would soon fill the house.
Nothing happened, so I checked the container over for a plastic thingy-ma-job that might be needing removal (or detailed instructions that would further my worthy cause).
Finding no indication that any dis-assembly was required, I applied both hands to the task.
...
The lid was unaffected.
So, I tried holding the oddly-shaped container down on the counter, against me, slumped to wrap one arm around it, and again tried to pry the top off - no good.
I could hear my husband making noises like he was waking up, by then, so I redoubled my efforts to get that coffee made, and a cup of it in his hands before he got up, deciding my appearance should not be the focus first thing in the morning, anyway.
I balanced my half-awake self on one leg, braced the other against the cabinet doors and, holding the container down, firmly, on the counter top, I again attempted to free the coffee from its dark quiet tomb of freshness.
The results: ...
Two of my fingernails snapped off below the quick and I fell to the floor in agony, half-crazed, but determined not to be undone by that technologically advanced hunk of plastic.
After having a moment with myself, I summoned every once of strength left in me and, sitting indian-style in the middle of the kitchen floor, wrapped as much of my body around that container as possible, grabbed onto the handle and threw myself into prying that lid off, again.
And that is how my husband found me! Now, I'm a writer, and therefore spend nearly three quarters of my days typing, so I think it's fair to say that my fingers are finely tuned, agile and strong, but they are not, even with full exertion, able to pry off this easy-to-open-lock-in-the-freshness-coffee-container lid that Maxwell House developed.
You should have a pretty clear picture of the grand first impression I made on my dear hubby, on our 8th Anniversary morning no less, by now.
The method I'd decided was necessary to employ in order to get that damn coffee container lid off was not pretty! Well, my dear hubby, rather than being paralyzed by my thoughtfulness and beauty (remember the plan), quickly found his handy-dandy new camera and preserved that precious moment for all time's sake, in amazing digital clarity.
I quickly explained the difficulty I was having preparing his first cup of coffee, and he graciously offered a helping hand: While I sat on the floor, frustrated and in pain, he hooked his camera up to my computer to upload the photo, then took the stubborn (i'm sorry, easy-open) container from me, set it high above my head on the counter, placed a well-muscled forearm against one side of this plastic conundrum, his fingers over the other edge of the lid...
and applied brute force.
The lid came off - fast! He didn't have time, or enough mental alertness, (or so he claims) to yell out any clear warning to me, sitting on the floor below him, still, so along with some sort of freakish noise he did make, a fantastic spray off medium-ground coffee assaulted me with such force I could do nothing but hold up my bloody hands to fend off the attack.
(yet another duty my hands are not big enough to perform) In one split second, I was transformed from a slightly sun-tanned white girl to a full-fledged brown girl, sporting a rather fragrant, nearly-dreadlocked, hairdo.
Well, I didn't scream.
I just sort of mentally collapsed as he apologetically extracted me from the dry coffee pool, that was our kitchen floor, and helped me to the bathroom.
All the way through the house, he assured me that it wasn't that bad, and admonished me not to worry about the coffee-dust trail I was leaving in my wake, but when I finally closed that bathroom door behind me and steeled myself to look into the mirror, I was able to confirm that he is a liar! All I could see of me in my reflection were sprigs of blond hair sticking out in all directions from a mass of sticky, staining, coffee grounds.
Brown-ish dust tracks covered my face, and my red shirt was sort of auburn (in places)..
..
Need I tell you I cried? (I thought not.
)I was unaware that my favorite beverage maker had developed a new product.
(and I admit I'm a little peevish that I wasn't informed in one of the bi-weekly email adds I receive from this company) This new product is Men's Coffee, and not just any man can enjoy it: only young men need give it a try! In conclusion, thanks to Maxwell House's genius coffee container development department, my hubby made my first cup of coffee that morning, (to hell with the plan) and I in re-washed and re-dried my hair, locked in the bathroom.
Before I opened that door again, I applied a thick layer of make-up to disguise the stains that lingered on my face, but I was unable to do anything about the evil glint in my eyes.
(It's still there! You should see it!) We went on to have a wonderful day, but I wanted to take just a moment to warn you, my dear readers, of this frustrating development, so that on your next special day, should you also purchase Maxwell House coffee, you will have my experience to aid you in getting your day off to the right start! The last method I tried will surely work, though I was unable to prove it.
Just remember the secure-the-container-position (full-body clamp) I had adopted and give it your all.
...
At least, if you succeed where I failed, the mess won't have to be incorporated into your hairstyle for the day! Please join me in asking Maxwell House to let go of their Container Development Department and hire a feisty, elderly, arthritic woman to design their next seal-in-the-freshness-so-you-can't-find-it coffee container.
As soon as I'd showered and washed my hair, prepared to doll myself up a bit so he'd forget what I normally look like first thing in the morning, I went to the kitchen to make him coffee.
Much to my delight, I discovered a fancy, newly repackaged, container of my favorite morning brew - Maxwell House (Original) Coffee - on the kitchen counter top.
I filled the coffee maker reservoir with the requisite water with one hand, while separating and preparing a filter with the other, yawning.
The plan was to wake my dear hubby with a great cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand, looking as radiant and lovely as possible.
Now he is the one who usually handles the coffee prep work in our house each morning - thank goodness - but I thought that, just this once, I could handle the responsibility all by myself.
I've been able to accomplish some slightly more difficult feats than this, after all! Well, I grabbed this handy-dandy, newly designed, container's handle and pulled the surprisingly light-weight 39oz.
of plastic toward me, applying upward pressure to the pop-open lid, already anticipating the wonderful aroma that would soon fill the house.
Nothing happened, so I checked the container over for a plastic thingy-ma-job that might be needing removal (or detailed instructions that would further my worthy cause).
Finding no indication that any dis-assembly was required, I applied both hands to the task.
...
The lid was unaffected.
So, I tried holding the oddly-shaped container down on the counter, against me, slumped to wrap one arm around it, and again tried to pry the top off - no good.
I could hear my husband making noises like he was waking up, by then, so I redoubled my efforts to get that coffee made, and a cup of it in his hands before he got up, deciding my appearance should not be the focus first thing in the morning, anyway.
I balanced my half-awake self on one leg, braced the other against the cabinet doors and, holding the container down, firmly, on the counter top, I again attempted to free the coffee from its dark quiet tomb of freshness.
The results: ...
Two of my fingernails snapped off below the quick and I fell to the floor in agony, half-crazed, but determined not to be undone by that technologically advanced hunk of plastic.
After having a moment with myself, I summoned every once of strength left in me and, sitting indian-style in the middle of the kitchen floor, wrapped as much of my body around that container as possible, grabbed onto the handle and threw myself into prying that lid off, again.
And that is how my husband found me! Now, I'm a writer, and therefore spend nearly three quarters of my days typing, so I think it's fair to say that my fingers are finely tuned, agile and strong, but they are not, even with full exertion, able to pry off this easy-to-open-lock-in-the-freshness-coffee-container lid that Maxwell House developed.
You should have a pretty clear picture of the grand first impression I made on my dear hubby, on our 8th Anniversary morning no less, by now.
The method I'd decided was necessary to employ in order to get that damn coffee container lid off was not pretty! Well, my dear hubby, rather than being paralyzed by my thoughtfulness and beauty (remember the plan), quickly found his handy-dandy new camera and preserved that precious moment for all time's sake, in amazing digital clarity.
I quickly explained the difficulty I was having preparing his first cup of coffee, and he graciously offered a helping hand: While I sat on the floor, frustrated and in pain, he hooked his camera up to my computer to upload the photo, then took the stubborn (i'm sorry, easy-open) container from me, set it high above my head on the counter, placed a well-muscled forearm against one side of this plastic conundrum, his fingers over the other edge of the lid...
and applied brute force.
The lid came off - fast! He didn't have time, or enough mental alertness, (or so he claims) to yell out any clear warning to me, sitting on the floor below him, still, so along with some sort of freakish noise he did make, a fantastic spray off medium-ground coffee assaulted me with such force I could do nothing but hold up my bloody hands to fend off the attack.
(yet another duty my hands are not big enough to perform) In one split second, I was transformed from a slightly sun-tanned white girl to a full-fledged brown girl, sporting a rather fragrant, nearly-dreadlocked, hairdo.
Well, I didn't scream.
I just sort of mentally collapsed as he apologetically extracted me from the dry coffee pool, that was our kitchen floor, and helped me to the bathroom.
All the way through the house, he assured me that it wasn't that bad, and admonished me not to worry about the coffee-dust trail I was leaving in my wake, but when I finally closed that bathroom door behind me and steeled myself to look into the mirror, I was able to confirm that he is a liar! All I could see of me in my reflection were sprigs of blond hair sticking out in all directions from a mass of sticky, staining, coffee grounds.
Brown-ish dust tracks covered my face, and my red shirt was sort of auburn (in places)..
..
Need I tell you I cried? (I thought not.
)I was unaware that my favorite beverage maker had developed a new product.
(and I admit I'm a little peevish that I wasn't informed in one of the bi-weekly email adds I receive from this company) This new product is Men's Coffee, and not just any man can enjoy it: only young men need give it a try! In conclusion, thanks to Maxwell House's genius coffee container development department, my hubby made my first cup of coffee that morning, (to hell with the plan) and I in re-washed and re-dried my hair, locked in the bathroom.
Before I opened that door again, I applied a thick layer of make-up to disguise the stains that lingered on my face, but I was unable to do anything about the evil glint in my eyes.
(It's still there! You should see it!) We went on to have a wonderful day, but I wanted to take just a moment to warn you, my dear readers, of this frustrating development, so that on your next special day, should you also purchase Maxwell House coffee, you will have my experience to aid you in getting your day off to the right start! The last method I tried will surely work, though I was unable to prove it.
Just remember the secure-the-container-position (full-body clamp) I had adopted and give it your all.
...
At least, if you succeed where I failed, the mess won't have to be incorporated into your hairstyle for the day! Please join me in asking Maxwell House to let go of their Container Development Department and hire a feisty, elderly, arthritic woman to design their next seal-in-the-freshness-so-you-can't-find-it coffee container.
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