Thursday, September 16, 2004
Over lunch a few weeks ago, one of my co-workers (the infamous IT manager) enthusiastically tore into Sierra Mist. He dismissed it as another X-Game drink (a la Mountain Dew), promoted by kids ramping bikes off buildings or surfing the waves generated by Hurricane Ivan at Jamaica. The guy said it fucking sucked . . . he may have even used those words.
“Have you ever tried it?” I asked. No, he had not. I hadn’t either, which is when I got the idea that I’d bring in two cans of it and make him try it, in a nod to The Plug.
Yesterday, I didn’t bring a soda to have with my lunch. And the soda machine downstairs has Sierra Mist. At $0.50 a can, it was a bargain to get two. I drank mine with my lunch yesterday and told my coworker that I’d gotten one for him. Honestly, it didn’t make much of an impression on me when I had mine.
Today, he split poured half of his can into a glass and gave me the can, and we both drank in a not-so-blind taste test. His verdict: “A slightly altered, re-marketed version of 7-Up for you Gen X’ers.” My opinion was similar . . . not as painfully anti-flavor as club soda, but a lightly sweetened cross between Fresca and 7-Up.
I’ll stick with Sprite. But thanks, Pespi Land
So, it’s been windy today. It’d be great if it wasn’t in the upper 80s with 100% humidity. The power’s gone off three times at work; once, the exploding transformer sounded like a gunshot from about a block away.
I’m actually ‘blogging my way out the door because, really, there’s not much more I can accomplish without our CAD designer . . . and some patience.
The first round of posts are up at Reverse Survivor. Mine should be easy to locate; it’s the really bad one.