Now that I actually have the means to become one, I've become such a coffeehouse junkie. Tuesday nights, my night off from work (that and Monday), are Open Mike Night at The Point, and I nearly always make at least a brief appearance. If I like someone enough and I have time later in the week, I'll pay for and go out to their show. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'll finish class 1:30-ish, head off to Gryphon to study over a bottomless cup of house coffee and then throw on my spare change of clothes and head straight to work (or my Astronomy class, as is the case on Mondays). If it's too late for Gryphon or The Point, I know the location of half of the Starbucks in the tri-state area. If it's too late for that, there's always Minella's, which is not without its own character (though it lacks that counter-culture charm).
The perfect cup of coffee is drunk black. If it's less than perfect (as is usually the case), add cream. If it's bad, add sugar. If it's piss poor, don't go back.
Coffee and Pepsi is surprisingly good (anyone remember that short lived Pepsi-Kona stuff from the mid-nineties?) but it's not nearly as effective with Coca Cola. You make stuff like this on rainy Sunday afternoons when business is slow and you have the bar all to yourself to mix whatever you want but you're personally limited (by your own principles - your boss, on her end, doesn't mind, so long as your shift is over and you don't abuse it) to non-alcoholic drinks. You walk into bars and order a Little Rascal, and when they look at you funny, you explain that it's half Sprite and half Cranberry Juice. You don't explain that you came up with it yourself one dreary Sunday hoping that, someday, the drink will spread as a viable and healthier alternative to Shirley Temples. You laugh at those who don't know what a Roy Rogers is.
