Tuesday, April 04, 2006
I'm Red Bull's bitch
I'm really not happy about this. But I've been working a ton of hours the last couple of months, and in the process I've developed a Red Bull habit. That's right. Diet Pepsi was found wanting, coffee is too acidic for my tender innards to absorb on a thrice-daily basis, and tea is, well, it's tea. That stuff's for chicks.
So I turned to Red Bull. And I really wish I hadn't. For one thing, this shit is expensive, I tell ya! It's like $2.30 a can or something like that. I'm convinced that cocaine would be cheaper. Buying in bulk isn't much better. A 4-pack at Target is almost $7 bucks. Plus, the cans are small; only 8.3 ounces of the precious energy-giving nectar are contained inside. On the one hand it's cool, because when you hold the tiny can you can pretend that you're a giant. But when what little liquid there is inside vanishes after a few all-too-fleeting swallows, it is most definitely not cool.
Jake the Intern briefly saved the day when he called some of his cronies who are "ambassadors" for Red Bull. I'm not sure what that means, but they wore Red Bull jackets, used some sort of funny handshake as a greeting and probably drove around in the car pictured above. They dropped off a free 12-pack here at the agency, which me and a couple of other guys polished off in short order, leaving us no better off than we were a few days before. It's always heartbreaking when the gravy train stops rolling.
In short, I need help. Can anyone get me some methadone?