Confessions of a Coffee Cup

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I am your 2 a.m. vice, your necessary dose of caffeine, the one thing that keeps you from crashing. I have saved countless study dates, all-nighters, and hangovers. I may be small, but I am one of the largest industries in America. Don’t be fooled by McCafé lattés or gas-station wannabes. I’m irreplaceable. And it’s not just because of the pretty label that’s plastered all over the world, or the fancy red holiday cups people seem to look forward to all year. Haven’t you ever heard that it’s what’s on the inside that matters? I mean, I know America is image-obsessed. It’s the same reason Kesha puts the universal symbol for money in the middle of her name and people are so much more willing to pay $200 more for actual UGG boots than the Costco knock-offs. People are afraid of showing that they are not filthy rich. But don’t worry, I’m not like that. I’m not like that at all. Just because I have a pretty face doesn’t mean I am shallow. Don’t judge me, because the coffee on the inside is quality. And that’s a promise.





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