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I’m not a fan of the Dew. It’s too caffeinated and it looks like green piss to me. It took some cajones forcing myself to buy some new flavor of mountain dew just because the bottle stated it was indoctrinated as permanent product due to a “Dewmacratic process”. It promised me that sometime last year or so, thousands of people actually bothered to go online and cast a vote for this flavor of Mountain Dew because they believed it was that good of shit. Seriously…how fucking awesome can a food or beverage be that you have to bother to go online and document your experiences with eating it? Oh wait. I guess I’m kind of an exception. But I do it from an ironic perspective. Half of this blog is hyperbole. This my friends, is the first food product written up here that I can officially endorse. As soon as I had my first sip I had formed my decision.
Oh damn. That’s some good shit. Oh damn. I haven’t used this loving phrase in a long time for ANYTHING. Keep in mind this ain’t no colloquialism of mine and I don’t toss it around lightly. Oh Damn That’s some Good Shit (ODTSGS) means that the product I’m referring to is life-changing and mind numbingly fucking awesome. Not only did slurping down this white stuff ramp me up with energy but it also tasted great. Read that sentence back to yourself and see if it makes you giggle.
I like the artic. I like glacial properties. Blue, idealized, fictional summits of ice, where penguins from Mario slide down the tops of cheerful moonlit slopes and party in fountains of youth to Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz all night. Polar Bears are drowning themselves in Coca Cola like Bacchus. The maritime varmit I presently spoke of in my review of the KFC Double Down are emerging from waters gargling with purple frigorific Gatorade flavors. Remember, how people were wary of the turquoise Gatorade before it became racially accepted as part of the mainstream line of Gatorades? It was previously part of Gatorade FROST. I was on cloud 9, huffing Vicks vapo-rub in my bedroom with the air conditioner blasting dust mites into my face against my mom and the surgeon-general’s warnings slurping down some fuckin GATORADE FROST. Now I’m a man. And man has needs. And I need my ferocious thirst quenched in a manly manner with Artic themed shit whored out all over the bottle. Mountain Dew White Out. I shall buy it again and again. Starting tomorrow.
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