Ian's Time-Honored, Award-Winning Coffee Preparation Routine

Because everybody deserves a fantastic cup of coffee, I will now share with you my time-honored, oft-repeated, award-winning method of coffee preparation for guaranteed five-star enjoyment.

Step 1: Turn on the Keurig machine, because nobody named Ian has the time to f*** around with the actual coffee maker his wife bought. I have driven a 757 and can operate extremely dangerous and complex industrial equipment, but that coffee maker can keep its damn ninja secrets.

Step 2: Select coffee (biodegradable packaging only please, because we love our planet), favorite superhero mug, and add-ons (cream, sugar, chocolate, cocaine, what have you).

Step 3: Select Giant Kidney Failure Cup Size, Press Brew (Although I welcomes ALL cup sizes in general, Giant Kidney Failure is the only Official Ian-Endorsed cup size for coffee).

Step 4: Stop in your tracks as you hear the percussive tinkle of freshly-brewed coffee spattering on the counter because you removed the emergency drip tray and failed to put the cup underneath.

Step 5: Widen eyes to maximum and loudly say your choice of REALLY unacceptable words.

Step 6: Lunge at the counter, simultaneously grabbing the roll of paper towels off the holder and groping the back of the Keurig for the Off switch while getting spattered with the coffee you carefully selected.

Step 7: While breathing deeply, commence low-voltage diatribe against your own repeated stupidity while using many many paper towels to rescue the counter and associated debris from the spillage. Also use the sponge.
NOTE: During Step 7, remember to vary the socially unacceptable vocabulary you use about yourself. Nobody wants to hear the same profanity over and over.
ANOTHER NOTE: If Wife is present, hold up ONE FINGER whenever she begins to speak. The coffee cleanup is a solitary, meditative angry process that does NOT NEED INPUT FROM OTHERS.

Step 8: When cleanup is complete, angrily put away everything you got out in Step 1, because it is time to go to work.

Step 9: Gather keys and put on shoes. Continue negative motivational self-talk.

Step 10: At the front door, meekly and borderline-tearfully thank wife for the newly-brewed coffee she made while you put on your shoes.

BEST. COFFEE. EVER. Every single damn time.

See the drip tray in front of the coffee maker?  I have to remove it to make room for my super-hero travel mug.  THAT'S what enables me to enjoy coffee using my award-winning method.  Also, those plastic non-biodegradable K-cups in the picture?  THAT'S how future cockroach archaeologists will analyze what happened to the human race.