Nope, still awful. Thank fuck.
I am become a wreck, a pathetic excuse for a human being. Somewhere within me, my cells are gleefully mining fucking Twiss and A&W Cream Soda and converting their considerable excess energy into fat, and if I knew where my body is storing those fuckers I'd be ready and willing to remove that part with a rusty goddamn spoon. Yet, because I'm nothing if not determined (and also a certified dumbass), I choose to press on. Luckily, at this point I manage to summon enough presence of mind to eat something, because come on.
In hindsight, however, I probably should have ordered a pizza or something, because I have only the haziest recollection of chopping up these vegetables:
Kitchen knives: not the brightest idea when your hands have the sugar shakes.
At this point, I choose to choke down a Cherry Coke, because it's the only drink on this list I've tasted before, thus offering a handy reference point to the degree of vileness of the others. To my surprise, it tastes like it always does: pretty OK. Either this means that the previous drinks have truly leaked unto the unsuspecting world from Satan's butthole, or the good people at Coke are really, really good at getting their customers hooked on their product.
Then again, are those answers really mutually exclusive?
OK, one more. After finishing this, I'm going to close the computer and go shake for what will seem like days but probably won't be, then proceed to experience the kind of hangover you can usually achieve only by drinking something brewed by prisoners in a mostly emptied-out fire extinguisher. The duration of this experience has been a little under four hours, and the amount of throwing up that is going to happen any minute now shall be multicolored and legendary.
Now, what do we have in store for my last crusade?
Hehehehe. This one kind of sounds like a sex toy, doesn't it? A really bad sex toy, one of those floppy cheap things with a motor that's aaaaalmost dead. It could be ... maybe red, I suppose? No, I know it's supposed to be yellow, but man, there's no reason to suppress creativity. In fact, at first I thought the name of this stuff was "Hello Yello" and was all: "Hold on, this doesn't really taste like anything much. It should totally be called Mello Yello." And then I noticed that it actually was and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. Taste-wise, it's OK, I suppose. I guess I could have another. Actually, I think I have another of those nice root beers in the fridge ...
Ah, shit. At what point does sugar take over your brain, again?
Pauli Poisuo will never drink a goddamn soda again. Go convince him otherwise on Facebook and Twitter.
For more from Pauli, check out The 5 Most Ridiculous Drinking Myths You Probably Believe and The 6 Creepiest Lies the Food Industry is Feeding You.