I have to stop writing in this xanga. Sorry guys. I'll keep it running for promotional and informational purposes, but I just don't feel morally correct with updating it, filling it with these anecdotes, the absolute truths of my life.

See, the thing is, my mom got on eBay the other day with the intent to buy some Sheryl Crow tapes for her ferret's little mini-mobile (Ferret Bueller drives a mini 1974 Impala, just like me, because I'm his half-sister and he looks up to me and shit). She ordered them, and the package came real fast, so we thought we had gotten a pretty sweet deal, right? Fast shipping on great Sheryl Crow music. I'm talking classics, none of this Lance Armstrong-inspired, "Soak up the Sun" shit. But we opened the box, and it wasn't the tapes.

It was a 12-pack of New Coke.

So my first thought was "We got shafted" because, well, it was pretty obvious that we hadn't gotten what we ordered. But then I realized that, while those Sheryl Crow tapes were worth a combined total of 7.99, a 12 pack of New Coke was basically priceless.

For those of you that don't know, New Coke was introduced in April of 1985 after consumer focus group studies found that an experimental version of Coke, sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup rather than cane shugah, out-performed both original Coke and Pepsi in taste tests. However, these studies also found that 10% of taste testers really resented the shit. With pretty good results, Coca-Cola launched New Coke on April 23, 1985.

The aforementioned 10% got really vocal and started calling their local Coca-Cola bottlers, and forming dumbass organizations such as (I swear, you can't make this sort of thing up) "The Old Coke Drinkers of America." This makes me think of a bunch of old men who sit around and drink Coke from glass bottles and talk about things like "Sure is hot out today" and "Yep." when in reality it was a bunch of young, spineless liberal Cokesters who grew up on Nam protests. Anyway, the public started rejecting New Coke, citing a strong emotional attachment to the original. Pepsi, for the first time EVAH surpassed Coke in sales. Bill Cosby, who said in one of the first New Coke television commericials that New Coke was, and I quote, "The best tasting Coke in the history...of ever," refused to do any more endorsing of this Devil's drink because it hurt his credibility.

Bill Cosby saying that doing a New Coke commercial hurt his credibility is like Ellen DeGeneres saying that that flannel shirt she wore yesterday made her a lesbian.

Coca-Cola took New Coke off the shelves in July of the same year. They reintroduced the original coke as "Coca-Cola Classic" boosting their sales to an all-time high.

So basically, New Coke is to soft-drink enthusiasts what Jane Fonda is to Nammies.

Getting back to the reason why I can't have this xanga anymore, I took one of those cans, and I held it in my hand for three hours, just contemplating what to do with it. As Spiderman usually says sometimes, "With great power comes great responsibility."

The cans were technically my mothers, so I began consulting her for guidance. I asked her what New Coke tasted like. She told me it was okay, but she liked the original better. She was pretty indifferent about it. Typical Canadian.

Being only 12 years old, I was never around when this stuff was originally on shelves. I wanted to see for myself what all this hubbub, this brouhaha, this commotion, this Miles Davis uproar was about. I went to the icebox and grabbed a can of Thoroughly Modern Millie (replace the word "Millie" with "Coke" if you were looking for that to make sense) and drank it all in one gulp. I can do this because my gullet is very strong and flexible, like a triathlete.

Then I picked up the New Coke.

My heart was thumping. Lumping. Frumping. Frumping like Sarah, plain and tall.

All in a blur, I popped the tab and began drinking excitedly. This New Coke went down my gullet even faster than the regular Coke, and I'll have to check with Moira Quirk, my referee, but I think it was a record. I reached for another New Coke, then another, then another.

I stopped myself after the fourth can because I knew that I had discovered something precious, that I wanted to last for as long as possible. Like when I used to eat a bowl of about 10 Cheerios over the course of an hour while I watched back-to-back episodes of Ren and Stimpy.

So here I stand before you, with a xanga username making reference to a song from Modest Mouse's 2000 album "The Moon and Antarctica." I can be absolutely certain Modest Mouse isn't referring to New Coke because of the extra emphasis on the "Coca" contained within the brand "Coca-Cola." Cocaine is derived from the coca leaf, and anyone who drinks regular Coca Cola must be on cocaine, as I see it, because New Coke is a million times more delicious (see graph)

Anyway, I just can't bring myself to promote regular Coke when the love of my life has a different name.

New.

So here's to you, readers, and to you New Coke, and to you, Devin and Nora, I was really surprised to find out you were dating.

I'm really going to miss all of you, but now CocaCocaCola is ascending to Xanga heaven to party with Doitlikestomp, not_feeling_creative, Sylvia Barrett, and God.

Amen. I can say that now, obviously.

Currently Listening Reefer Madness the Musical By Reefer Madness Original Cast see related

Today I hung out with Nora for 5 hours. It was great to talk to her and just clear the air so to speak. I added "so to speak" because there's really nothing we can do about the destruction of the ozone except make it happen sooner.

She told me about this new guy she's dating. I was surprised she was dating a guy, but even more surprised when she told me that he's a farmer. I have nothing against country folk, I just really can't see him being her type at all, since Nora's lactose intolerant. Nevertheless, I told her that I'd like to meet him, and I'm pretty sure I meant it, unlike with all of Nora's other friends.

By the way, Devin, Nora told me to tell you that she did, in fact, call the Manager of Dairy Queen and ask her out. She also apologized for your behaviour that night after we went bowling. She said don't sweat it. The date was weird she said, because they went to the same Dairy Queen she worked at.

Anyway, after we went to get coffee, me and Nora decided to take a quick road trip to Hermann, Missouri, where we visited the 5 different wine factories, taste tested, and absorbed the rich German culture preserved there throughout the years. It really was EXACTLY like the brochure.

All in all, a very good day for Maggie. Nora, if you're reading this, which I know you are because I told you Devin's password and you log in on his name all the time, I am sorry for any trouble I've caused you in the past but I'm really glad we can put that all behind us and have great times like this.

My first church service will be held in my basement next Monday morning at 10. Sunday's not really a good day for me. Things will work a little bit differently at the West County Jesus & Co. Church. Here's a quick rundown.

Before services start, there will be an open breakfast buffet consisting of whatever food my family didn't eat over the weekend. The first sermon (actually, I will be calling them "salmons". If anyone has a problem with that, I have installed a comment box) will be on the subject of "Friendship with Jesus." After the salmon, punch and pie will be served to everyone whether they like it or not. Everyone out by noon, because I absolutely never miss "All My Children." However, if you don't talk (except involved discussion during the commercials) you are free to watch with me.

BYOB! (Bring your own Bible)

Oh, and by the way, you can all start calling me Reverend Maggie.

Currently Listening Jesus Christ Superstar (Original London Concept Recording) By Andrew Lloyd Webber, Tim Rice see related

I completed my training this morning.

I am now an ordained minister.

Currently Listening Voices Of The Civil Rights Movement: Black American Freedom Songs 1960-1966 By Various Artists see related

Jake Epstein is the hottest thing since Al'Aziziyah, Libya in September of 1922 where the temperature reached a scorching 136 degrees Fahrenheit.

And, talk about a human interest piece, as I got up from the chair just now, I felt a very strange feeling in my right butt cheek and I decided to investigate. I soon came to realize that this strange feeling was the lack thereof. My cheek had fallen completely asleep! In the interest of politeness, I refrained from further inspection, but let me just say that this may be one of the weirdest feelings ever to affect itself into my body.

One more thing I have to bring up, in all seriousness, is my habits involving fire. I burned up a 20 dollar bill today just for the excitement. I thought I could blow it out in time, but it's risky business, and I blew it. The thing toasted to a crisp in my hot little paw, and I dropped it onto the carpet. Now there is a burn spot on my pristine white carpet, and a piece of the nice leather couch is melted in an unrelated heating pad incident which I won't talk about because I've signed a guerilla contract of sorts, with myself.

This whole pyro thing goes back as far as I can remember. I was around 6 years old, and I was fucking around with a match, lighting Smoky the Bear matches (incidentally, these matches also gave me my first taste of irony. It was...well irony I guess. Kind of gritty, and full of iron and other essential vitamins. In fact, another ironic thing is the chemical composition of Irony. It looks something like as follows: Fe10C2D, which is to say 10 atoms of Iron, 2 Atoms of Carbon, and one atom of Domino's pizza.) and I somehow managed to scorch a good-sized hole into the bum of my brother's one-piece footie pajamas. They were fleece, so it bubbled. The story we told my mother was that we were playing coffee and toast and things got out of hand.

I guess I should explain the concept of coffee and toast. It was one of the first, and most simple, games my brother and I ever made up (much more difficult and brutal ones followed, such as broom fighting, with definitive chalk-drawn boundaries and helpful accessories which could be earned by winning matches). The object of the game was to yell "coffee and toast!" as many times and as loudly as possible while sliding down the stairs on your ass. Fleece footie pajamas were the required uniform.

I'm not really sure where I was going with this, and I'm not going to scroll back up to see. I'm just going to leave you with a reminder that my Bat Mitzvah is on the 3rd at 5 pm at the South County Synagogue.