Just wanted a Diet Coke, folks

While Mr. Pibb is still the beverage of choice in Ronsonville, lately I've been drinking a lot of Diet Coke (well, actually Coke Zero. They're all death chemicals if you do a Google search though).

In a recent trip to purchase a Diet Coke to go with one of my delicious frozen meals, I went through the following tribulations:

Gina and I walked into the chaotic nightmare that is the deli in our office building during lunchtime. Possibly the closest thing to Hell on earth, only with worse service...

While at the fountain beverage station, with roughly 50 people buzzing around without rhyme or reason, the Diet Coke nozzle exploded and popped off into pieces in my cup. My pants were soaked, there were plastic bits in my drink and suddenly, out of nowhere, a man popped out to fix the problem.

His first question: "Wanna top that off?"

I replied, "Yyyyeah, I think I'm gonna need a new one."

The repair process took forever, and generally I was feeling that this was a sign that I shouldn't stick around. I decided instead to go grab a bottle of Diet Coke out of our Vendoland.

Seeking refuge in Vendoland didn't help. We arrived right in the middle of a microwave meltdown: a flaming Hot Pocket, smoke billowing from it's formerly delicious filling (see the adjoining poll for more). I'm pretty sure the smoke was carcinogenic as one breath had us coughing up a lung. I half thought to hit the deck and start crawling on the floor (a la Dwight in The Office). Not to be dramatic (um, too late), but I think it's the closest I've ever been to a fire. Buuut, I needed my Diet Coke, so I held my breath and went for it...

Finally, I returned to my desk, burnt Hot Pocket still in my nostrils and possibly having shaved weeks off my life, but that Diet Coke was pretty good. I think it was anyway -- I've had so many Diet Cokes since then, I can't remember the specific experience, but I'm gonna put my money on "pretty good..."

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