The Case Of The Bad Aftertaste

It all started a few days ago when I ran out of my diet green tea here at the domain.

No big deal, I’ll just pick one up in the vending machine at the auxiliary office. Provided that I have exact change and no threat of a potential delivery of enough nickels to buy an iPod in the DFW airport, I’m good to go and can rock from there.

This morning I assembled my five quarters and a dime and fed them into my would be tormentor. Looking over to the left side of the machine, I spied my beverage of choice and hit B1.

Well, crud.

I misread the label and got the leaded stuff instead of diet.


I really need to write a blog encouraging the good people at Lipton to design labels which make a bigger distinction between diet and regular.

Fine, I’ll drink the regular stuff that tastes like the syrup they add to canned fruit cocktail.

It wouldn’t be complete without the sugary aftertaste.

Boy, that stuff was complete.

Fast forward a few hours and I’m feeling the effects of idle hands and less than exciting work. What the heck? I’ll try a different drink.

The vending machine had some sort of Starbucks energy drink flavored like coffee. At first it wasn’t bad, however the aftertaste was a little less than palatable.

Not to say that was the only drawback though. The additional effects as it made its way through my alimentary canal reminded me of the story Ralphie May tells about drinking Cuban coffee.



Onto other news which doesn’t involve the effects of coffee on yours truly, I’ve got an update.

As you may or may not know, I typically come home from Cubeville everyday and type up a blog to be published shortly after midnight the next day.  On some days, I will have already started one on my iPhone.  On other days, my skull is completely free of any decent ideas and I end up brainstorming the hell out of it and eventually publish a brilliant piece of litter-ature.  Today’s started out on the phone, but the end result made it a hybrid.

None the less, I will not be participating in that particular practice on Thursday (05/31).  Friday is my birthday, kids.  I’m taking the day off.


In all actuality, tomorrow’s blog is already written and ready to rock.  In it, I discuss why I don’t like to celebrate my birthday, and what I think Wifey is up to in preparation for the event.

Stay tuned.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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