We all have a different relationship with Soda. A different way in which we grew or didn’t grow up with it. Me, I like to judge people who drink it while secretly pining after sparkling fruit punch. We never had it in the house growing up – I’d only get it from the vending machines at Swim Practice or after school where usually your dollar wasn’t flat enough or something and the machine wouldn’t take it and this was pretty much the end of the world. So denied soda, so traumatized, I spent my freshman year of college drinking Dr. Thunder, a Dr. Pepper of the Sam’s Club variety, like it was water, and gained approximately 117 pounds. And then – I swore it off. But EVERY NOW AND THEN – see colon this morning – I just NEED one. As if possessed I marched straight to the Bodega, grabbed a can and stood on the corner drinking it, smiling and ahhh-ing like a commercial, like I invented it.
Which I didn’t.
I did however invent passive aggression, double sided tape, and when you put a little grapefruit juice in seltzer water.