I want to tell you a story. It is true... mostly.
There once was a man who wore Armani Exchange ( I know)... Abercrombie (I KNOW)...American Eagle (...no seriously)... and Hollister (at this point we must ask the question- is he a man? Or simply a man boy?... I fear the latter to be true). He drove a brand new black BMW, it got ruined, so he then drove a gray Camry. He liked embellished denim and early 2000's gradient lensed wire framed sun glasses (a la the Backstreet Boys) and he loved to talk on speaker phone.
Every morning, afternoon, and (occasional) evening (when the urge would strike or it was looking like a late night out with his 'brothers') he would stop into Handsome Coffee for a little... pick me up. Every time he entered the room, arm bent awkwardly towards his head, phone 6 inches from his face (on speaker), sun glasses perched, hair greased back, he would look over the top of his frames at the barista and shout, "10 oz to go! HOT HOT!"
We, very quickly, started fondly referring to this gentleman as Hot Hot. He became the center of our interactions, "hey, has Hot Hot come in yet today?" or "It's Friday right? I would put money on Hot Hot wearing his favorite AX shirt with those bedazzled jeans he loves so much when he goes out tonight."
In my mind Hot Hot wasn't a man of many mysteries, he was in the Eastern European Mob. His car got beat to shit by some 'Made Guys' (do they have 'Made Guys' in the Easter European Mob? Or is that only an Italian thing?) because he royally messed up and they needed to teach him a lesson. Because he had fumbled so many jobs he was relegated (down graded) to credit card fraud, which is why he was always yelling into his phone.
Through it all though, bedazzled denim and all, the one thing I had to respect was how the man liked his coffee- hot hot.
I too like my coffee to be near scalding. I like to feel the heat flow down into my chest, especially in the cooler months. There is something... comforting about it.
Don't get me wrong, the number of "American Top Fashion Brand" graphic tees this man owned made me want to cry and call What Not to Wear, but he knew what he liked and I can't fault him for that.