mountain high

Holy mary mother of high! I guess I haven't had caffeine in awhile, but I was craving a Mountain Dew this afternoon at school, so I had one.

I didn't think much about it until about 15 minutes after I began sipping away at that sweet nectar of the gods, when everything, and I mean everything, just became utterly euphoric. We're talking high as a kite, my friends ... angels singing to me from the clouds, birds speaking to me in a private language of love, people walking down the hall became my best friends ...

What the hell do they put in that stuff? Is it crack? No, I think it's probably better than crack. And it's legal! For only 75 cents you can have your own can of mountainous glory, a little bit of dewey heaven. True love in a little green can.

What's frightening is that, back in Boston, I used to drink 24-48 ounces of this stuff a day. EVERY DAY. And I don't recall ever feeling like I did today. Which leads me to think that the calm, subdued personality that everyone says I embody is really just part of a 12-year sugar crash from drinking so much Mountain Dew in the past. One of these days, I'll finally come out of it and be back to my pre-San Francisco energetic self.

But until then, I will savor my not-too-frequent adventures into caffeineland where the colors are brighter, the people are happier and I can jump buildings in a single bound!