I work hard to know very little about Sister and Brother in Law--however, this one time, overinformation was good. In the last three months, the hope of getting seriously laid has led several men to contribute expensive and insane amounts of chocolate not only to her but to her daughter and my son; some kind of ion flat iron that was imported from somewhere and apparently does magical things with straightening hair, along with matching hair care products; dinner at restaurants so pretentious I don't even want to pronounce them; and finally, the real reason I have a strong urge to set my sister on a street corner, a Cuisinart coffee maker.
Oh. My. God.
No one told me. I've been using GE and Mr. Freaking *Coffee* and *this* was out there? Twelve cups of nirvana seeped through a water filter and into a brown paper basket filter, so good that I actually lost the ability to form sentences. Mellow edged perfection cooked up in less than ten full minutes, with multiple functions, wrapped in black plastic and silver edging, saying, "Jenn, Jenn, drink me." Oh my GOD. This is--you know, I'd say better than sex, but it's been a while, so maybe sex has gotten better than the last time I tried it out.
Oh my GOD why do I drink anything *else*?
Suffice to say, I have the coffee maker and she's getting it back over my cold dead body. She can pick up another engineer if she needs another one.
I'm goinng to take a moment with my creme brulee coffee and smile that the universe sometimes sucks so much less than I usually think it does.