Coffee and Beer -- My Liquid Loves.

It's no secret that I love coffee. It's one of those constants in my life that I can always look forward to and always know I'm gonna get a kick out of. Fuck energy drinks, forget soda and all the in-between bullshit that'll blow your heart out of your chest and eat away your liver. Granted, I'm unsure of the side effects when consuming enough coffee to give a herd of horses a buzz, but I'll take my chances.

Ahh, Extreme Bean. Located in Mesa, or Tempe or somewhere, this is a pretty neat place to pick up some black blood. I will admit, this isn't a real hotspot for me, probably because I don't like going anywhere with "extreme" in it's name, but it's here, and I'm there. The front of the building ain't spectacular, but they're not opposed to putting up flyers for shows, which is pretty cool and non-threateningly hip.

I've been here before, many moons ago on a date, I believe. It was more of a get together, since I don't think I've ever been asked or initiated a "date" in my life. I'm more of a, "I'll be there, you be there" kinda guy. Easy, unconfrontational and a little bit sleazy, but that's how I roll. It's a lot easier to check your watch, make up an excuse and run on outta there when it's not under the "date umbrella." Anyway, in my infinite weirdness, I've never been back, 'cause in a cramped corner of my mind, I always thought I'd see the date in question here. It would be, like, awkward. Six years later. I suck.

Well, I'm glad I'm back, 'cause this place is pretty classy. They have a cool diner area, nice atmosphere and a decent, laid back feel. I assume this is a great hangout for swank college kids, 'cause everyone here was really attractive and young. Nothing like young, golden-haired college girls to make you feel like a dirty, pervy old man.

I wanted to get a shot of the main room, where there's a bunch of tables, chairs and couches set up for whatever you wanna do while you drink your coffee (very nice) but ever being the wussiest cameraman alive, I had to do it in secret. Which was trying to look like I was texting, but ended up looking like I was texting, but at an impossibly odd angle. Or had really awkward, short arms. It's hard to paint the picture, but ya know what I means.

The guy in the shot swayed any curious naysayers, 'cause who would be taking photos of a guy staring lovingly at his own weiner? Not I, I say!

I find it really interesting to think about that very guy somehow stumbling on this blog, only to see a photo of himself just chilling out, drinking an iced mocha latte, minding his own business. It's not like he's just in the background, or accidently walked across the shot, and is now invariably just kinda visible, but he's right there. The dude is nearly the Goddamn focus point. I think it would be creepy, confusing and kinda unnerving to go through that scenario. But still, very interesting, indeed. Here's to you, Weiner Guy.

There's even an outdoor patio, where you can snag your sweet nicotine fix in 115 degree weather. Probably best for the colder months.

Man, just take a look at this bad bitch:

I have no idea why, but I'm totally ghey for iced lattes right now. Sure, I once went down the dark, "caramel machiatto" pathway, and swore I wouldn't tread those waters again. But I feel this to be different. It's sweetened, yes, but only by milk, as opposed to cream, syrup, sugar, spoonfuls of diabetes, etc. There's logic and reasoning in there somewhere, I swear. Plus, the color is just really appealing, in a brown, dirty water kinda way.

Like everything in life, coffee and beer (I'm gettin' there, I'm gettin' there) there's always a ying and yang to pleasure. I think if I drink too much coffee, my brain feels super insane for a good hour, then take a huge divebomb into depression. Nothing I wouldn't kill myself over, but I feel nervous, odd and perpetually ready to do everything in my power to not feel like that. Which includes drinking more coffee and boy howdy! That never works out the way I want to.

There must be something to say about smashing on a drink that'll get you jittery and focused, and going nuts on another that'll slow you down and make you dizzy. But what can I say? I love me some beer. Hey, I'm a man of many brain altering substances. Watch:

I've mentioned Four Peaks before, one of my favorite restaurants, hangouts and local brewery, supplying this great town with delicious, delicious beer. Kiltlifter is classic, but Sunbru is magical. Ah, not really. It's decent. Why must I build things up like that?

I never really drink canned beer, it just seems cheap and kind of gross, like all I can taste is the tin can. It's made of tin, right? Aluminum? Either way, I kinda expected bottles, but ended up with cans. I should have realized this upon purchase, 'cause the box is super tiny. And perfectly rectangular and cute. So gonna use this as a fort for Mumm-Ra and Nien Nunb. They're best friends, you know.

Overall, good stuff. I guess I kinda do like canned beer, 'cause it makes me think I'm, like, a tough guy. Who works on cars and lifts weights. To justify this as a "review," really, the beer is quite tasty. Kinda light, almost like a Peroni but zero skunk. It also has a stylized, original name spelling which is confusing while charming. I would have gone with "Sunbrooo," with an image of a ghost at a bar eating peanuts, but that's just me. Copyright laws might be infringed, 'cause I'd really want it to be one of the ghosts from Pac-Man. It's my way or the highway.

Rock and roll!