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Holy mackerel, Ben:
It’s been days since I’ve written. I feel like a heel. A real flat tire.
Truth is, work’s been busy, and life has been even busier, and the life-busy involves you, so, I mean. It’s almost like writing letters to my roommate or like, wife.
Today I have a meeting with an undisclosed plumbing parts supply company. We are making their online catalog look better than it does now. This is what life is, Ben. Embrace it.
Oh, so I’m not sure if we’ve discussed my move toward the diet colas, but it’s officially complete. I’ve discovered a whole school of beverages that I didn’t even know was there. If you were like me, you looked right past diet colas and sodas when you’re at Wawa like they weren’t even there, like they were hobo’s on the street looking for a hand out. I mean, you’re paying for them, and yet they offer you zero calories? Doesn’t sound like a fair deal to me.
Anyhow, it’s like motorcycles or bicycles. You never notice them really until you start riding. So, I now see all kinds of things. Lately, when I can get it, I go for Coca Cola Cherry Zero. Either the aspartame has aspartamed my taste buds into submission, or this stuff tastes completely like straight up Cherry Coke but without adding to my expanding waistline. It’s a subtle deception, and intelligent. Like watching a good magic trick over and over and never figuring out how he did it. I sip this Coke and then smirk like Harrison Ford (i.e. only half my face) and wonder how they did it. This is pretty much the opposite of how, say, Diet Cherry Vanilla Doctor Pepper tricks your tongue. That stuff runs a flavor-train on your tongue’s ass. It’s also a staple beverage for me. Despite that awful metaphor. Or maybe because of it.
crap, i have to go to this meeting. later gator.