Don't ask me what kind. What do I look like? A mold scientist? All I know is that it's black and green and gray and all over this fucking joint. You can try to beat it back with bleach solutions and boot driers and other methods of de-humidifying, but it's a ceaseless and mostly futile effort.
That's why I wasn't too surprised when I got a mouthful of what I'm pretty sure was mold with my coffee this morning.
I was on my way to score a disgusting, greasy order of "breakfast tacos" at a giant convenience store across town. (Let that sentence sink in for a minute). I was settling in for the 15-minute ride with some Ryan Seacrest-moderated Top 40 trash blasting gloriously on the radio. I brought a Contigo brand metal travel mug of coffee with me, because the very first thing I need to do before I have any contact whatsoever with the outside world is mainline coffee directly into my veins and arteries.
I took my first sip and instantly knew something was amiss: It tasted exactly how the fabric seatbelt of my shitty beater Subaru smelled. I leaned my head into the seatbelt to make sure my smell and taste functions weren't having some sort of neurosynaptic dissonance.
Alas, it wasn't the seatbelt.
I saw in my mind's eye the top of the Contigo mug. The little ridges of the cap, specifically, and the sticky, gross sludge that collects in those ridges and never seems to come out no matter how many times you wash and scrub it. What is that stuff anyway? Oh yeah, it's mold. And I knew I was sort of drinking a little bit of it out of this dirty ass travel mug.
But I needed coffee at that moment. And I didn't care.
I took another giant sip of coffee and tried to put the mold smell/taste out of my mind, choosing instead to focus on the delicious, migraine-busting caffeine that was beginning to course through my bloodstream and make everything OK until it hit my stomach and made me have to take an emergency shit, the urgency of which was undoubtedly hastened by the presence of mold in my coffee on this particular day.
So yeah. I was pretty much OK with the fact that my digestive tract was now on the registry of historic places in Juneau that are covered over with mold.
That's how much I love coffee.