The Best Things In Life Aren't Things... They're Cans of Mountain Dew

The following is not a paid advertisement for Mountain Dew (although I will gladly accept any money they want to throw my way)

Those of you who know me well are probably surprised there hasn’t been a post dedicated entirely to Mountain Dew yet and frankly, I’m surprised too. You know how they say men think about sex every seven seconds? Well, I’m pretty sure I think about Mountain Dew at least that often. I even dream about it (no joke, I had a crazy dream a few nights ago and the whole time I was walking around with a Mountain Dew in hand).

Everyone knows those commercials for Klondike Bars that say “what would you do-O-o for a Klondike Bar?” Well, when it comes to Mountain Dew, it’s better to ask “what wouldn’t you do-O-o for a Mountain Dew?” and I can honestly (and proudly) answer, there is almost nothing I wouldn’t do to get my hands on an ice cold Mountain Dew.

I wouldn’t murder someone… unless it was someone I didn’t like… or know very well… or wasn’t an immediate family member… or if I could get away with it. So basically, yes, I would murder for Mountain Dew.

I wouldn’t sell my body… unless he was good looking… or decent looking… or had at least two cold 20oz… ok fine. You talked me into it. For one cold 20oz bottle of Mountain Dew, yes I would sell my body.

I wouldn’t betray a friend or my country… unless the person asking gave me a Mountain Dew in exchange for information.

Ok.

Well.

This went downhill quickly. Apparently, I will literally do ANYTHING for a Mountain Dew.

Do I have no shame? Do I have no self-control? Do I have no self-respect?

No.

I am dangerously deficient in all these areas but who can blame me? When I think of Mountain Dew, my eyes glaze over. My mouth begins to water. My only thought is, “how can I get some of that sweet, sweet nectar of the gods into my body?”

If I go too long without ingesting some of that stomach corroding battery acid my body begins to shut down. My head begins to pound. My legs begin to ache. I start throwing up non-stop—oh wait, that’s because of my bulimia. Anyway, it’s not pretty. I’ve been known to black out and wake up days later with a Mountain Dew in hand, covered in blood and chicken feathers—oh wait, that’s the plot to the Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

I know I sound like a perfect candidate for “Intervention” but before you sign me up for it, think about what we just learned about my character:

1.     I don’t care how my “addiction” has effected your life

2.     I fully understand the extent of my problem and my inability to be a functioning member of society without Mountain Dew

3.     I am aware of the health risks: diabetes, headaches, insomnia, extraordinarily low bone density, etc. It really doesn’t concern me

4.     With all of this being said, trying to do an intervention for me is as big of a waste of time as watching Sarah Palin do… well, basically do anything.

Good. Now that we’ve got that covered, someone bring me a can of the good stuff.