Okay, not to jump on the bandwagon or anything, but I thought I'd give this a go for myself. Knowing my lackluster ability to stick with things, it'll probably get updated sometime between now and the apocalypse. Oh well, c'est la vie. I'll just write things as they go.
     First off, it's yet again another ungodly time in the morning and I've gotten little sleep. No, everyone? It's not due to the coffee, it's due to the fact that my brain won't shut off. Again. I stared at the ceiling for an hour. It stared back. I was attacked by fiendish feline devils, and gritted my teeth at the strange buzzing sound coming from some area of my room that I could not determine off hand. And thus, my fellow blog readers, I am now here.
     First off, I was thinking of something rather odd, of a conversation that I had with someone, long ago. Really, it wasn't a conversation, per se? It was more of a debate, over something completely idiotic. Tea steeping. Yes, I once argued with someone for one hour (minimum) about steeping tea. Why? I shall show you, beware long story that could have been made short:

      I was once part of a group of about 15 people who were known for our coffee talks in various restaurants. We'd take up space for hours. We'd only order coffee, tea, and occassionally some toast. There were a couple people that snorted Sweet & Low for shock value and because we placed money down in a betting pool. One was a pyromaniac, so that often made things interesting. The waitresses hated us, with a passion. We laughed too loud, we were broke so we were not very good tippers, and they were constantly restocking the sugar and making cream runs. Needless to say, we were the reason why the restaurants in this tiny town, put a limitation on how many cups of coffee you get with a order. That's why we all moved to Denny's. But for the sake of not prattling on endlessly about Denny's coffee, it was back when our bevey of choice was in unlimited supply.
      That day, I could only find one person who wanted to sit and debate things for four hours. So, he picked me up in his leaky car (which in Oregon is NOT a good thing) and off we went, down to the restaurant for our "coffee talk."
      Now, this friend of mine, whom I shall call M, was well known for his awe astounding ability to argue any point, any time - all the time. He never stopped. If you told him the sky was blue, he'd argue that it wasn't. If you explained light refraction and the color scale, he'd still find a reason to do so. Etc, etc, so on and so forth. However, if we did manage to get him on certain points, such as "Dude, you run like a carrot would, if carrots could run" he'd counter with his age old: "F*** YOU!"
      It also became quite funny, because it was almost clockwork, M said that one phrase so damned much.
      To get back to the story, two hours into our chat, I ordered some tea because I had a cold. Upon recieving it, I poured the hot water into the cup and plunked the tea bag into it and bobbed it around a lot.
      "What are you doing," M asked, his head bobbing up and down with the motion of the tea bag.
      "I'm steeping my tea."
      "Shhaaa," he scoffed, and started to get that familiar arrogant tone to his voice, "you don't steep tea? You steep vegetables."
      Everyone knows that anime sweatdrop face, ne? Well, I probably had the living equivilent of it down, at that moment. I stared across the table at him, and I can - even to this day - remember one of my eyes twitching out of irritation.
      "Are you completely f***ing mental? You steep tea. You STEAM vegetables."
      "No you don't."
      "Okay," I chirped, as though I were dealing with a three year old, "I would think I know what you do with vegetables and tea. There is a difference?"
      "Yeah there is. Tea gets steamed."
      At that moment, I lifted the tea bag out of the water and showed it to him.
      "Does this look like it's steamed? No. If it was steamed, it'd be OVER the water. Not IN it."
      "Oh, what~ever," was the breezy reply, as though he was simply humoring me.
      Now, I know it was stupid to get worked up over it, but I was just as bullheaded about things as he was...and I still am, unfortunately. So after spending nearly another hour arguing over the varied aspects of steaming and steeping, he dropped me off at home. I promptly walked inside, opened up a cupboard, grabbed one of my many tea boxes and counted to 120 (the total amount of time it would have taken him to get home and walk in the door). Then I gave him a call and, without so much as a pause after he answered the phone, I read the exact instructions to him.
     VERBATIM.
      I remember he started laughing. Then he paused for a really long time. And finally, I heard him scream "F*** YOU!" and promptly hang up on me.

      I was most happy. And I left the empty tea box on his doorstep, the very next day.

     And now you all know why I should have my hands cut off, so I can't type this stuff. At the very least, I should probably get some sort of sleepy time tea, since I'm on the subjects of tea steeping and not being able to sleep. Regardless, I suppose I will be ranting about crunchy peanut butter vs. smooth n creamy, eventually. I really wonder if anyone will even care...