The morning after the wretched night of pain that went before, ever more

Tracy Emin's Bed. 1998.

This, if ever there could be such a splendid thing, is the most accurate, pure and honest representation of every physical, sexual, regrettable moment of my ever-moving, ever fucking life.
The dirt, the filth, the cruel lurkings within my ever-hollowed mind reside upon this stinking mattress. Though I may not respect the rest of this beautiful artist's work, this is sheer artistic perfection in my ever-open eyes.

Wakeupandsmellthecawwfheebaby

You know you've been working for the same huge ridiculouslypowerefulgenericandpredictablebutpleasantlyandrecognisablyreliableandtrustworthyAmericancoffeehousechain for far, far too long when you wake up in the morning with a new idea having just popped into your head for the next big beverage recipe.
Get this: A white cafe mocha, with a twist. try requesting to have something just that little bit different, yehh? Take a shot at ordering yourself a grande skimmed white cafe mocha with half the syrup, one and a half pumps of vanilla syrup (full sugar content, oh-so-necessaire) and two or three pumps of our special, much beloved and sought after Gingerbread syrup.
That shit gonna be good. Ahhhh yeahhha.

Try it. Like it? Go on, get another one.
If not, answeronthebackofapostcardplease.