May 26, 2006

The End

I hate to break it to you, but the war is over, folks. With the first few months of sales of the new Diet Mountain Dew up 17% (in convenience stores) compared to the previous incarnation, it's clear that our voices are a whisper in gale force wind. We always knew we were in the minority, but it's hard to argue with sales. Sure, this could be a surge due to the novelty of the new formula, but the what's clear is that getting the old formula back is now almost certainly a lost cause.

Thanks so much to all of you who have been amazingly supportive and generous with your precious personal time throughout this campaign. Of particular note is Bo Williams at NewDietDewIsYucky.com. He's been a hugely active and good-humored ally in this battle, almost from day one. To all of you others who called and wrote letters to PepsiCo, emailed your friends, posted on message boards, and spread the word as much as you could, I thank you, as well.

It's been a wild ride. Several thousand people have visited this site since the beginning of March, and more than 2,000 have signed the petition. I've been interviewed on the radio and by the Wall Street Journal (which, I was supposed to keep hush hush until the article was published, but I don't think it'll be printed at this point). I've heard from hundreds of people from all around the country and was amazed that not only am I not the only Diet Dew fanatic out there, there are people light years beyond my level of devotion (not to mention levels of consumption!).

Since this site is actually part of my existing blog, I will leave the pages up indefinitely, but don't expect much in the way of Diet Mountain Dew updates in the future. If you'd like to read some of my non-Dew writings and tirades, check out my main blog at afterglide.com. Fair warning, I kept things pretty clean and tame on the Dew pages, but I have a bit of a potty mouth otherwise. *grin*

Try not to take it too hard. On the one hand, there's certainly much more to life than the taste of a carbonated soft drink. But if everyone rolled over and invariably gave up the moment someone took away one of our small pleasures in life, then we'd be living in a pretty gray world. It's been fun. It's been real. And now it's time to move on.

-Jeremy

Diet Mountain Dew Survey by SurveyCrazy.com
(see survey results)
Fight For Flavor FAQ (the problem and the solution)
Archive of previous postings

May 15 -- Can we do it? I think so. As I type this, the number on the petition is sitting at 1,997. Today, coincidentally was my personal deadline for getting to 2,000. Now here's a goat scratcher--does it count if I removed several duplicates and inappropriate (or obviously fake) signatures over the last couple months (note the lines that say things like signature deleted, signature voided, etc)? I'm going to say for the purposes of the goal that it counts, but I am not going to send the petition to PepsiCo until we have at least 2,000 actual signatures. I'm going to give it until the end of the week at least.
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May 10 -- Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I was in California on vacation for nearly a week. I'm back, I'm refreshed, and I'm ready to keep fighting despite the fact that as of Sunday, I am completely caffeine free. Not a drop of caffeine (save that naturally occurring in chocolate!) since early Sunday morning when I had a mocha at a coffee shop in Sonora, CA.

I've received several emails asking what I will do once we hit 2,000 signatures. For starters, I should point out that my end goal is not 2,000 signatures. My goal was 2,000 signatures by May 15th. From there, obviously I hope it keeps growing! But once we hit 2,000, I will compose a letter to various big wigs and departments at PepsiCo and enclose a printout of all 2,000+ signatures. They are already aware of this website, but I want to make a statement.

Also, while I was gone, an anonymous conspiracy-minded kook left a comment railing against the contents of diet soda. Of all the dozens of comments below, only 3 or 4 have been of that nature. Word to the wise--comments on this site are moderated, and I will reject comments containing wackjob conspiracy theories about aspartame, splenda, BVO, etc. This is not a site about debating matters of junk science. It's about the flavor of a soft drink. Lighten up.

In other news, I turned 30 years old today. Happy birthday, me! *grin*
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May 3 -- I've downed my final original formula Diet Mountain Dew (photo included).
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May 2 -- The final countdown has arrived. I have a mere THREE original formula Diet Mountain Dews left in my possession. Given that I've decided to give up caffeine entirely if I can't have my Diet Dew, and I'm currently down to 2 cans a day (from 7 or 8), these three will last me through tomorrow, and that will be the end.

I knew this day would come. I even recently passed up on several opportunities to buy a few 12 packs of OFDMD. I'd rather just rip the bandage off instead of prolonging the pain.

Today I also noticed a crapload of hits coming to this page from Iowa State and some Iowa ISPs. Thanks to one of those visitors for letting me know what was going on. Turns out a professor at Iowa State mentioned the site in an email to his students.
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April 25 -- DEWSPLOSION!! Oh, the humanity! This morning, as I went through my daily ritual of loading my Diet Mountain Dew cans into the fridge at work, one of them fell from my hands, hit the floor and EXPLODED. Precious original formula Diet Dew dripped from the walls, covered the fridge, splashed my pants, and soaked into the carpet. But I'm (not far) above getting down on my hands and knees to lap up the precious nectar from the carpet. I have some dignity left.

Incidentally, I'm down to 4 cans a day from my high of 7 or 8 cans. I plan to be decaffeinated entirely sometime next week. If I can't have my OFDMD, then I shan't drink any caffeine at all!
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April 18 -- 1,700 signatures on the petition! Well ahead on momentum for meeting our goal of 2,000 signatures by May 15th.

As Bo Williams pointed out, PepsiCo isn't going to change its mind overnight and suddenly rerelease original formula Diet Mountain Dew to store shelves tomorrow. The pace of a huge company like that will be slow. Any decision to rerelease OFDMD would be preceded by countless phone conferences, memorandums, and meetings. We need to be realistic and measure in months rather than days or years.

I said I would give up caffeine because of this, and I'm staying true to my word. Believe it or not, I have actually passed up the opportunity to purchase quite a bit more old school Diet Dew as I think it's best just to barrel forward headfirst into kicking caffeine now rather than later. By the time I slowly cut back my intake to 0, my supply of DMD will be nearly depleted.

Now, now. Don't be sad. Don't look at this as me giving up. I'm simply preparing my body for what could be several months of Dewlessness. In the meantime, we need to keep on top of PepsiCo with calls, emails, and telegrams ("NEW DIET DEW SUCKS STOP BRING BACK THE OFDMD STOP").
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April 14 -- Wow! We've blazed past 1600 signatures with me asleep at the wheel, so to speak. I went to bed last last night with 1590-some, and awoke to 1610 this morning. I need to take the day off from work and sleep in more often! That has nothing to do with the petition. I'm just saying. *grin*
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April 12 -- I've been a bit remiss in making updates here lately. I'm busy with work, and spring has finally fully arrived in Minnesota. When you're stuck indoors for several months of winter, there's no screwing around. You get your butt outside as soon as the first hint of warm air wafts across your skin. This is the perfect time of year when the sun is shining, it's not too cool, it's not too warm or muggy, and the skeeters aren't out yet. It's too soon to mow the grass, but not too soon to verbally harrass the neighbor kids. It's spring. It's here. Get used to it.
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April 9 -- As of this posting, 1,500 on the petition are imminent. Also, if you check the signature list, you might notice I turned on signature approval. I did this to prevent duplicate signatures instead of having to go in and clean them up afterward. I'll try to approve signatures a few times a day.
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April 6 -- We have a celebrity (or blogebrity?) petition signer. I had emailed my favorite local writer, Diablo Cody, on an unrelated topic a few days ago and mentioned the Diet Dew thing in a P.S. She wrote back today expressing her love of DMD and stopped by to sign the petition.

Here's what Diablo wrote on her blog (slightly edited since this page gets younger readers than the rest of my site):

"I ----ing love people!"

I just shouted that at my computer screen.

Just as I'd lost faith in the Internet as a conduit for authentic human expression, I got a MySpace message--something quite simple, an appeal to sign a petition condemning PepsiCo for changing the taste of Diet Mountain Dew--that flooded my heart with love and optimism.

God bless you, Internet.

Stay the same.

April 5 -- A photo from my sad Diet Dew party.

April 4 -- Tonight, I've got new info on the effects of aspartame and the scoop on my radio interview about Diet Dew today.
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April 3 -- If you're in listening range of KLPZ 1380 am out of Parker, AZ, I will be giving an on the air interview Tuesday or Wednesday morning. More details here.

Happy Monday, everyone! Or at least have a happy Monday as you can. I'm tired after losing an hour of my weekend to springing the clock ahead. But a can of my old friend original formula Diet Mountain Dew sure is helping. Cold, crisp, clean. Diet Mountain Dew. Drink some, won't you? If PepsiCo pulls its head back into the sunshine and gives us back our OFDMD, I should work out a spokesperson deal with them. A mellifluous voice like this doesn't come along but once a generation. I'm the James Earl Jones of the Diet Mountain Dew movement.

For those that stopped by on Saturday, again I feel equal parts smugness and guilt over the little April Fools prank I played. I had you going, didn't I? I promise no more practical jokes. But it was April 1st, so how could I resist. *grin*

I may be giving a radio interview about the Diet Mountain Dew movement this week. I was sent an email Friday from someone with a radio station in Arizona. I sent them my info but haven't heard anything back yet. Perhaps someone was playing their own April Fools joke. If so, it was pretty convincing! In any case, I'll be certain to post more info if we get it scheduled.

There's a saying about arguing on the internet that I won't repeat now since I can only handle one shitstorm a day (it involves mentally challenged people). Maybe tomorrow.

I don't think I've had a good ol' knock down, drag out verbal brawl over the internet since I broke up with my ex last year. The reasons for the breakup were simple and obvious to both of us. We weren't compatible as a couple, neither one of us saw in the cards being married to each other, and there were other fundamental incompatibilities that precluded us from ever hoping to stay together for the long haul.

Before we broke up, I did something quite out of character and quite insensitive. To quickly throw a wrench in your spinning gears, I didn't cheat on her. I won't go into sordid details, but to quote her typically mild way of putting it, I did something that "was a pretty jerky thing to do." This and other assorted relationship postmortem topics were argued back and forth in a series of heated emails the weekend after we broke up. We resolved our differences, came to terms with what I'd done, I was forced to look in the mirror and learn a hard lesson about myself, and we remain good friends to this day.

Last night, I was surfing assorted MySpace profiles and blogs and saw for the billionth time that "well-behaved women rarely make history." You don't say? I've never seen that phrase on anyone's webpage, blog, MySpace profile, email signature, or t-shirt EVER! I appreciate the meaning, but it's just worn out. Immediately, a slight modification came to mind. I knew it would piss off more than a few people, but I admit that angry or disgusted reactions to my (self-perceived) witticisms sometimes satisfy me more than laughter or a pat on the back.

Sure enough, I awoke bright and early this morning to find a comment from maarmie (the lowercase 'm' is just how she rolls), who took offense at my joking about domestic violence. I will avoid redundancy, as she explains perfectly what followed, as well as how she knew of my blog. Suffice it to say, she still does not appreciate my joking on that particular topic, but some of her reasons for taking personal offense turned out to be a misunderstanding and an unfortunate coincidence.

Now this was certainly different than an argument with an ex, but that isn't to say that I'm unacquainted with heated arguments with strangers over the internet. Why do I care what someone halfway across the country thinks of me? Why get all worked up over someone you don't know not finding you agreeable? Right or wrong, it's offense at someone not knowing me personally deciding to interpret meaning that wasn't there in my words. Your interpretation of what I said is all that matters, regardless of what I meant or who I am, and that is that.

That reason does not directly apply to maarmie's response to my posting, but her comment probably chapped me more than it normally would have, after very recently reading and participating in this thread at MNSpeak. We all just need to calm the fuck down (and yes, that includes me). Sometimes a joke is just a joke, and a geomap is just a geomap.

And if you're curious about how the spat with maarmie ended, I think she and I both came away with an increased respect for each other and an appreciation of the other's viewpoint. Unlike other chickenshits who anonymously comment and run, she identified herself, stood up for what she believed in, called me on the carpet, and engaged in actual debate. For those reasons she rocked my socks off, and I'm permanently linking to her blog from my homepage. You'll see what I mean if you go there.

...get black eyes from their husbands.

I don't know what the crap happened with my MySpace profile, but last week my stuff done blowed up good. Friend add requests all over the place. Where'd the exposure come from? My abnormally large number of comments on Diablo Cody's profile? My Diet Mountain Dew thing? I'm mystified. I summarily rejected most of them though. I'm not a MySpace friend whore. I'm just a regular attention whore who's willing to prostitute my dignity to the highest bidder.

I also discovered my blog is now listed in BlogShares. I'm somebody! DIE, Navin R. Johnson!!!!

I've strayed from my bloggity blogging ways. For that sin, I have already humbly begged for absolution. What makes things worse is that due to this impending thing I shall refer to only as GNAHHHH, I feel I must be on a certain level of good behavior on this site for the next few days. Ok, maybe I'll let loose just a smidge: poop

I feel better.

Thank you to Hannah Day, who had the 1,000th signature on the Diet Mountain Dew formula change petition. I've emailed you a gift certificate for a free hug*.

*This gift certificate is not real and may not be redeemed for anything at all. Cash value is zero dollars and zero cents. May not be used at any Arby's locations or outlet malls (or anywhere else). So please don't try to hug me unless you're having a really, really bad day. Even then, I wouldn't recommend trying it.

Well not just for Hitler, for everyone! Hooray! Today I threw on a couple long sleeved shirts and enjoyed our wonderfully sunny 40-some degree (precursor to) spring day and went for a nice 5 mile run outside. I'm thinking of doing a 10k in May and maybe train for a half marathon sometime this year so best get out there now. But right after I finish my leftovers from Buca di Beppo and Godiva double chocolate cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. Shutup...I know, I know.

I'm quoting Jon, Diablo Cody's husband when he found out she was going to appear on Letterman but had to wait for her to announce it. I have news. Big news. No, not Letterman big, but big enough. But I promised I wouldn't say anything quite yet. GNAHHHH!

I hate folding laundry more than I hate vacuuming. I just tried this and damned if it doesn't work. I'm still not folding my shirts though. Into a rumpled pile on the closet floor they go. Fuck you, Japanese efficiency!



If you can't see the video player, click here.

Bo Williams, of NewDietDewIsYucky.com gets our Diet Mountain Dew formula change protest some nice publicity and an article in The Huntsville Times. There's even a passing mention of me.

Scan of the printed article: http://newdietdewisyucky.com/hsvtimes.html

Link to article The Huntsville Times online (zip and birthdate required)

As I mentioned the other day, I am the proud owner of a brand new Roomba Scheduler robotic vacuum cleaner. I have now settled on a vacuuming schedule of Tuesdays and Fridays. That should be plenty to keep the floor cleaned of assorted settled dust, hair, and dropped crumbs. There are people that run them daily, but I think that's overkill and unnecessary extra wear and tear. But considering I typically vacuum, no exaggeration, maybe 3 or 4 times in a whole year, this is a Godsend. I'd think of another analogy for where it ranks, but I'm tired and can't hope to top the ass shaving one from the other day.

Roomba is supposed to find its own way back to its charging base when it is finished vacuuming, but twice now it's been hung up by pesky obstacles on the floor (you are warned in no uncertain terms that if you wouldn't go over it with a regular vac, you shouldn't leave it out for Roomba to wander over). Yesterday, I arrived home to be immediately greeted by Roomba all tangled up on a rug in the kitchen. Thankfully it's sensors are smart enough to detect immediately when it's hung up and turn it off. I surmise this happened late in the cleaning cycle, as the living room and bedrooms all had the unmistakable Roomba tracks in the carpet. I untangled him and put the rug out in the garage. I should wipe my feet there anyway.

Today I arrived home, immediately checked the recharging station and...no Roomba. Dang. A quick scan of the house turned up nothing. And while Roomba is supposed to be smart enough to avoid tumbling down stairwells, I quickly checked the basement stairs. No Roomba. Hmm...maybe he got caught up on something under one of the beds. On hands and knees, I checked under, behind, and beside the beds in my master and guest room. No Roomba. What the hell? I checked every possible square inch I could think of. Behind furniture, under furniture, even in closets. No...friggin'...Roomba!

Now I was worried. Did someone break in and steal him? I checked the doors and windows. No signs of foul play. Now I was getting pissed. Where the hell did this friggin' thing go???

I had already felt around and looked under the couch, but on a hunch, I lifted up one end of it entirely and looked. Sure enough, there on the other side of the couch was Roomba, tangled in a rear channel speaker wire. I was shocked that it could fit under the couch! I dutifully unwound the speaker wire from it's brush, emptied it's dust bin, and pushed the magazine rack closer to the couch so it couldn't roll under on that side again.

This is harder than I thought it would be. If I'd wanted to play hide and seek, I would have kidnapped a preschooler.

Though this year's Take Your Penis to Work Day has already passed, you can make every day Take Your Penis to Work Day by purchasing fine penisy t-shirts, caps, stickers, cups, mousepads, and other merchandise in the Take Your Penis to Work Day store. So what are you waiting for? Get your dick out of your hand, and go there now!

A few minutes ago, my alarm went off. As usual, I moaned and audibly complained that it couldn't possibly be 6:30 already. But then my day was brightened by a round little fellow named Roomba. With a musical electronic chirp and a reassuring whirrrrrrr, he sprang forth from his electric domicile to clean the dirt from my carpet and lift the chains from my heart. And yes I'm already anthropomorphizing this little suck machine.

As I took my morning vitamin and brushed my teeth, I watched him roll without trepidation through my living room and dining room. Table and chairs? Not a problem. He cleverly figured out that he was just wide enough to fit between the chair legs and cleaned every inch under the table and all four chairs.

I love you, Roomba! I'm going to take you as my robot bride, and there's no amount of legislation that Governor Pawlenty can pass to sway me.

I have set my Roomba to start a cleaning session around the time my alarm clock goes off at 6:30 tomorrow morning. *giggles like a jackass*

This is quite the momentous blog. First, this is my first attempt at a quasi-vlog. Second, read it and weep, bee snatches--I have a Roomba Scheduler robotic vacuum cleaner. After going on a cleaning tear recently (including hiring a lady to come in afterward to do a hardcore scrub n' polish), I started shopping for a new vacuum. Insert lame joke about my old vacuum cleaner sucking here.

I had seriously eyeballed the high-end Dyson vacuums, which go for $400 to $500 and up, but aside from finding the Roomba on sale for $230 at BestBuy.com, the final deciding factor was that I'd spend a shit ton of cash money just to have the damn thing sit in my closet as my lazy ass sat on the couch watching Family Guy reruns. Vacuuming my carpet ranks on my to do list just below shaving my ass while standing in the front yard and eating fruit. Sure, the Dyson is going to pick electrons off of the atoms in my carpet, but what good does that do me if I never use it?

What I like about this vacuum is that you program a schedule into it, and it vacuums until it finishes or needs more juice. No need to worry about plugging it in to recharge because it will automatically find and return to it's recharging/docking station. Sweet ass! I think the scheduling and the placement of the recharging station will require some tinkering, but I'm excited.

Check out the video. I sped it up in the middle, but note how it reacts when it hits a wall and how it automatically finds and docks with it's recharging station at the end. That shit is da balls!



Oh, and I promise not to turn the poor vacuum cleaner into my robot love slave...for now.

-What is the Fight For Flavor about?

In late February, PepsiCo, Inc. quietly began shipping a reformulated version of Diet Mountain Dew to stores around the country. The primary change in the new formula, marked with the tagline "Tuned Up Taste" was the addition of the non-caloric sweeteners sucralose (Splenda) and acesulfame potassium (Ace-K). The new formula also presumably reduces the amount of aspartame, which was once the primary sweetener used. So far as we can tell, it was not until after store shelves had been stocked with the new formula that the media and advertising blitz touting it's arrival was unleashed.

Huge numbers of longtime Diet Mountain Dew drinkers were outraged at this unannounced and unexpected change to their favorite soft drink. Common complaints are that the new formula is too sweet and has a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste. And thus a movement was born.

-What exactly is the formula difference?

I can't tell you the exact blend, as I'm sure that's a closely guarded secret at PepsiCo. But I can give you the ingredients list from the old formula and new formula. I've bolded a few key differences.

Original formula: Carbonated water, concentrated orange juice, citric acid,
aspartame, potassium benzoate, citrus pectin, potassium citrate,
caffeine, gum arabic, natural flavors, brominated vegetable oil, yellow
5 and erythorbic acid.

"Tuned Up Taste" formula: Carbonated water, concentrated orange juice, citric acid,
natural flavors, citrus pectin, potassium benzoate, aspartame,
potassium citrate, caffeine, sodium citrate, acesulfame potassium,
sucralose, gum arabic, sodium benzoate, calcium disodium EDTA,
brominated vegetable oil, yellow 5.

Is this a lost cause?

I don't believe it is for a second. I think PepsiCo sorely underestimated the loyalty and volume of consumption of hardcore Diet Mountain Dew drinkers. Are they going to abandon the new formula after spending tens of millions of dollars on product development, consumer research, and marketing this new formula? Of course not! It is far more likely that they will concede by simply introducing "Diet Mountain Dew Classic" or a similarly named product under a new label that uses the old formula.

-Why do the t-shirts and other merchandise in the online stores not mention Diet Mountain Dew?

Because I don't want to get sued! I'm not about to sell merchandise using someone else's trademark. Think of it as a "teaser" like a teaser movie trailer. It gets the gears spinning. What is this FightForFlavor.com? Maybe I should go check it out. Who am I talking to? Is it cold in here, or is it just me?

-Are you making any money off of this site?

I wish! I'm spending many hours a week of my own time and spending money out of my own pocket to run this site, promote it through search engine ads, and other activities that cost money. I'm accepting donations (see the link to the right) and you can buy t-shirts and other merchandise to help me offset the costs. But at the end of the day, I'll probably be in the hole.

-Are you kidding me? Diet Mountain Dew tasted bad and needed a tuneup.

That is your opinion, and we obviously do not share it. Have you tasted the new formula? Many non-diet drinkers I know also report they find the new formula to be utterly putrid. But even if more people in the general population like the new formula better than the old, why take away the choice of the old formula from people who have been drinking it for nearly 20 years? We believe there is room on store shelves and in the marketplace for both versions.

Sometimes men feel not so fresh. Not down there, but BACK there. It's called butt butter. We've all experienced it. The bowlegged walk. The skidmarks. The shame. That's why someone needs to invent manpons.

It's confirmed. Just saw a promo for tonight's Letterman, and Diablo was in it. Glad she wasn't bumped. Tivo, don't fail me now!

No, I'm not going to turn this into a satirical request for cancer to take a vacation a la "Homeless guys are depressing." Though I wish it would. In the course of a month, two incredible women in my life have been diagnosed with cancer. The latest was just this past week. Both are in excellent, dare I say superhuman health (with the exception of the obvious, of course). Both are in their 20's. Both smart, funny, and nothing but truly good people with kind hearts.

One is dealing with cancer for the second time. At 25, she was told she had about 6 months to live. She fought back. Three years later, she was cancer free, but a month ago found out her cancer was back. She is currently back on chemo.

The other was diagnosed last week after suddenly coming down with flu-like symptoms. When she started vomiting blood, she had her brother take her to the ER. They found cancerous growths in her abdomen. She will be having surgery to remove as much as possible on Tuesday. Until they go in, it will be hard for them to tell exactly what they're dealing with or whether she'll have to go through chemo, radiation, etc. She is 23.

I've been down this road to a certain extent before. Nearly 20 years ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. The difference was that I don't think at that age that I really understood how serious her situation was. I knew she was sick. I knew she could die. I understood death itself. But nothing really bad had ever happened to me at that point in my life. I'd never lost anyone close to me, and I just assumed that everything would be ok. Thankfully she recovered fully and is still with us today.

Now it's different. I know that bad things happen to good people for no reason, so I can't help but worry. But worrying helps nothing. I can only be a good friend to both of them when they need one most.

Normally I'm not a big fast food hamburger joint type of guy. I lived on BK, McD's, and pizza in college and in the year following college. But my ass was gigantic--literally. A year after college, I weighed 295 lbs. At a little over 6 feet tall, that's a lot to love (i.e. I was a fatass).

Blah, blah, blah, long story short, I realized the err of my ways and learned the joys of regular exercise and healthier eating habits. That 295 lbs became 185 lbs. Now several years after adding weightlifting to the cardio and a few too many DQ Blizzards here and there, I am not quite that skinny anymore, but I'm at a good, steady weight.

These days, while I might grab a chalupa at Taco Bell once in a while, my adventures in fast food land are rare outings. For example, I might eat at McDonald's 2 or 3 times in a year. I still love the hell out of their breakfast menu, so on a rare Sunday where I'm up around 6 or 7 (I'm usually a nightowl), I might celebrate life by running to McD's a couple miles down the road. I like to get myself into some sort of bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit situation accented with a breakfast burrito or two.

But once every couple of years or so I get a very distinct craving. I must have a Filet-O-Fish. Nothing will satisfy this craving but one of those deep fat fried square fish sticks on a bun, topped with a melty slice of shitty American cheese and way too much tartar sauce. It's like going home with an ugly girl from the bar. On any other night, any other day, there's no way you would want to get your hands on that train wreck. But at that moment in time, she is perfection.

Last night was my Filet-O-Fish night. I had plans that were cancelled, so I decided to get a long overdue haircut and pick up a couple double (I said double) Filet-O-Fish sammiches and fries. I was disturbed by how enormous and heavy the bag was. I felt like I was carrying home a couple hardcover books from Barnes & Noble. Perhaps my eyes had been bigger than my stomach.

Once home, I dropped the bag, and it landed with a thud on my coffee table. I was about to pack my gut with the equivalent of a Michael Crichton and a Dan Brown. Oh, and did I mention I'd also bought a medium chocolate french silk pie Blizzard from DQ? Add a cookbook from the annoyingly perky Rachael Ray in there, too.

I chomped on a few still hot and fresh fries while I opened the first box. I was taken aback by how incomprehesively perfect the sandwich looked. I mean freakishly perfect. Like it was ready for a photo shoot for a Filet-O-Fish print ad. The bun was a perfect golden brown. It was round and plump without a single crack, tear, or blemish to be found on its surface. The two filets were aligned with precision, with tantalizing dollups of tartar and melted cheese peeking provocatively from beneath their glutenous protector. To hell with the aesthetics! I bit in. Oh, God! I was in heaven.

One throwback to my chunky days--savoring is still not my thing. I plowed through that first sandwich like Starr Jones through an unattended birthday cake. Fries. More fries! Oh yeah! I then scarfed the second sandwich with equal enthusiasm. This was, at that very instant in time, what heaven tasted like. I threw the boxes an bag in the trash, polished off my Blizzard, and collapsed on the couch as if I'd just put in a 12 hour shift digging graves in the blazing sun. This is how life should always be. Content, satisfied, and full, but not so much that you need to hurl.

I watched a couple Tivo'd episodes of Monk, toddled off to bed burping tartary fish burps, and drifted into the ether, never once feeling that need to hurl.

First, a message to my regular readers who have been coming here since before this whole Diet Mountain Dew thing blew up: I'm sorry! And thanks for putting up with me while I'm neck deep trying to get back my precious fuel. As you have noticed, I continue to post non-Dew essays and the occasional brief non sequitur.

And now back to business! I've posted similar information before, but frankly I can't remember if it was here or on a forum somewhere. I've been writing so much about Diet Mountain Dew the last couple weeks that it's hard to keep track...

This is strictly from my personal experience in the Minneapolis area, but I haven't had the least bit of trouble finding original formula Diet Mountain Dew around here yet. I'm probably stocked with about as much as I could possibly drink before expires, so let me share a few tips for finding OFDMD (and if you read between the lines, I fully confess without shame that if I hadn't stocked up and did have trouble finding it that I probably wouldn't be sharing these tips with you! *grin*)

Your average supermarket that tends to sell soft drinks in high volume at a greatly discounted price is going to be your worst bet. In the Minneapolis area, those are going to be places like Cub Foods, Rainbow Foods, Target, and Wal-mart. Elsewhere, insert your regional chains like Albertson's, Safeway, and Hy-vee. Forget it. They're out. I can all but guarantee it.

Your best bets are going to be gas stations, convenience stores, pharmacies, and higher end, specialty grocery stores that sell far lower volumes of multi-packs of soft drinks. In some cases, you're going to pay through the nose, but I've also seen very reasonable prices, as well. A couple of weeks ago, I paid $2.50 each for 12-packs of original formula Diet Mountain Dew at a SuperAmerica gas station. I also saw 12-packs going for nearly $5(!) in a Wal-greens. Last week I paid $3 each for 12-packs at a Byerly's, one of the aforementioned higher end grocery chains. In the Twin Cities, Lund's and Kowalski's are also good bets. Elsewhere, aside from your local gas/convenience chains, if it's a grocery store with hardwood floors and carpeting, that is equivalent to our Byerly's et al.

So happy hunting and good luck, Dew heads! Um...maybe I should find a better name to call you than that.

I knew it was only a matter of time before she hit the talk show circuit. In fact, I've had "Diablo Cody" in my autorecord wishlist on my Tivo for several months. According to her blog, she will tape an appearance on Monday, which will air either Monday or Wednesday (assuming she's not bumped, as sometimes happens with the third guest). I imagine the conversation will center around her book and her former strippery ways.

For those not familiar with her, Diablo Cody is a Minneapolis area writer who became a cult figure when she blogged while stripping and later working in a peep booth at Sex World, a multi-level adult megastore in downtown Minneapolis. Her blogging landed her a writing gig with the local alt weekly paper and eventually a book deal and screenwriting deals. She's always raunchy and hilarious. Read her blog and her book.

One of my women friends, who I would categorize as a foxy superbabe (oh, stop it--you know you are), shared with me her story of going through the checkout line at the supermarket. She wrote a check for her purchase (who writes CHECKS in a store anymore for crying out loud??) and started bagging up her assorted vittles, when the male cashier blurts out "Would you like to go out Saturday night?"

She stood like a deer in the headlights, dumbstruck and in utter shock. There was no flirty exchange. No sly, suggestive glances. No sparkling conversation as she suggestively slid the check into his hand. Just an awkwardly blurted request akin to "IThinkYou'reSuperHotWannaGoOut?" Even with as down to earth and approachable as this particular woman is, do you think Mr. Smooth got his date? Of course not. Because foxy superbabe lawyer girls don't go out with checkout boys with underdeveloped dating semaphore interpretation skills. No green lights for you, twerp.

But what if it were turned around? Is this a socioeconomic thing? The "lowly" cashier behind the counter thinking he could get down with the attractive lawyer? What if he was the customer going through the line and she was behind the register? Would it have been as laughable and pathetic? Given the same lack of flirting and signaling, the answer is yes. This is about signals, chemistry, and timing. You don't ask a woman on a date as if you were stabbing at a pumpkin with a screwdriver.

Let's up the ante. What if this was a 65-year old dude hitting on her, a 20-something? Now you're cranking up the pervy factor. It doesn't matter if he's behind the till or in the checkout line, it's all sorts of wrong.

But what about 40-something dude hitting on a 16-year old checkout girl? It's only wrong if she's pregnant and wearing a wedding ring. Even then, I say give it a shot. Dream big, partner. Dream big.

The plow came! 'Ray! Or boo(?) I'm off to work.

After foolishly braving the slick roads and inhospitable elements during our March lion of a storm on Monday, I am sitting out our second storm this week. The streets in my neighborhood have yet to be cleared of snow, and my relatively wee coupe is not known for plowing through snowdrifts, driving up a mountain of conveniently piled rocks, or driving out from under a shitstorm of pianos and bathtubs like in those truck commercials.

But I'll reevaluate come mid morning. The less work I miss today, the less I'll have to come in over the weekend to meet our project deadlines. I'm not set up to telecommute, which frankly is just fine by me. I tend to obsess and would probably find myself up 'til all hours of the morning feverishly coding away. Productive, but sad.

Fellow Flavor Fighter Ken down in Florida had a conversation with a manager of a Quizno's (one of the few fast food chains that carries fountain Diet Mountain Dew). This manager suggested not only complaining to PepsiCo, but complaining to retailers who carry Diet Mountain Dew, as well. If your local retailers get flooded with complaints, they will likely pass these complaints along to PepsiCo, who are now catching hell from two different sides.

With that in mind, may I humbly suggest (read: strongly urge!) you to write complaint letters to parent companies and managers of grocery and other retail stores that sell the new Tuned Up Taste Diet Mountain Dew. I would even more strongly suggest you call these managers or stop by and talk to them in person at the store. As with what we're finding comparing the email vs phone complaints to PepsiCo consumer relations, phone calls and personal conversations seem to call more attention than a letter or email. A letter can be skimmed and tossed into a queue for a prefab response. A phone call or face to face conversation takes time and attention. Now a company is paying an employee real money to stop to take several minutes out of their day to talk with you.

I can get the ball rolling for denizens of the Minneapolis-St Paul area.

Byerl