The mail never comes early at my place.  It’s always arriving in the late afternoon, sometime after three.  This morning I heard the familiar slam of the mailbox doors being opened and closed by the oddly early mailman shortly after eleven.  Now that there are the prospects of residual checks, mail has once again become something to look forward to.  My mailbox carries the same anticipation and excitement as a table of birthday cards; sometimes you get money, sometimes you get 20% off at Bed Bath and Beyond and sometimes you get nothing at all.

Today my Uncle Sam sent me some free money.  Six-hundred dollars to be exact.  I’ve been watching the mail like a hawk since I got a letter last week informing me that my stimulus check was on the way.  Actually I’ve been thinking about this money for about three months now since I was informed back in March that I was eligible for this refund.

There are so many THINGS six hundred dollars can buy.  And a great many of those things have crossed my mind over the last few months.  As I evaluated all of the things that I would spend six-hundred dollars on, I came to the conclusion that I really like buying stupid things.  Like when I was younger and I would spend dollar after dollar on non-sport cards.  I have a bedroom/storage space back in Oklahoma that has numerous binders full of Marvel cards and (why God, why?) Lion King cards.  They are, in most cases, utterly useless but the memories I have of collecting and organizing each card are happy memories.

Over the past few months I’ve discovered that there is still a large part of me that wishes I could spend every last dime of this refund check on something(s) genuinely stupid.  Now that I’m an adult, however, I’ve come to grips with the reality that I need most of these free nickels and dimes to pay electric bills and help me make my ridiculous rent this month.

That isn’t to say I wouldn’t still take a small part of it and make sure it was frivolously spent on something sufficiently dumb.  Something self-medicating like a video game I don’t need.  Or a Best of Kenny Loggins CD.  Or a new cat-fish net or felt squares.  Something good and stupid.

I decided to take a small bit of this free money and stupidly devote it to my only real and crushing addiction: Mountain Dew. 

Some time ago, during a promotion where Mountain Dew gave away free songs on itunes I signed up to receive emails from Mountain Dew dot com.  This mostly monthly email keeps me up to date on all the new happenings in the mighty MD sphere of influence.  This charming little email is also, no lie, called The Dewsletter.

A few months ago, The Dewsletter informed me (in an X-treme way!) that this summer MD was going to release three new flavors and we few, we chosen dew chugging jerks, would get a chance to vote on which one we liked best.  As an addict, I should tell you my love for Mountain Dew is epic and knows no bounds.  It should come as no surprise that I have put every type of Mountain Dew they’ve released up unto this point into my gullet.  I’ve imbibed more than several cans of Code Red, many bottles of Live Wire, overflowing cupfuls of Baja Blast (only available at the Taco Bell), liters of Pitch Black 1 and 2, and last year I was the dork sucking down copious amounts of Game Fuel (released in conjunction with Halo 3 but damned if I’ve ever even played Halo once).  And I’m guessing you could fill a good-sized lake with the amount of original life-enhancing Mountain Dew I’ve consumed in my entire life-time.

I pause here to remark that it shocks and confuses me when people think I’m cool because in the back of my mind, I always know that this sugary half-poison opiate rules my choice in beverage and at 27, I should probably know better.

This afternoon, I went the bank and swiftly over to Ralph’s Grocery, where I laid down ten dollars of free government money and bought not one, not two, not three, but FOUR 12 packs of Mountain Dew.  I had to.  It was four for ten.  I walked out of the grocery store with 2 packs of Mountain Dew Supernova, one pack of Mountain Dew Voltage, and one pack of Mountain Dew Revolution.

(Note: I’ve yet to try a flavor of Mountain Dew that I haven’t enjoyed but I’m always surprised I can get past the ridiculous names that they come up with for what is ultimately just a flavor.  Revolution?  Game Fuel?  Pitch Black?  But who am I to talk?  When they release Mountain Dew Auxiliary Engine or Mountain Dew Consternation, I’ll be the sad sack slurping it up with gusto.)

So far, I’ve tried the Voltage ( a beautiful blue MD charged with raspberry citrus flavor and ginseng) and a can of the Supernova ( a luscious pink MD striking back with a blast of strawberry melon flavor and ginseng) and I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed them both.  It could be because I’m such a dew junkie that any thing they cook up tastes like heaven’s tap water.  Or it could be that buying four 12 packs of dew with my allowance makes me feel like a kid again, spending the money I made mowing the lawn on X-men cards and Nintendo games. Or maybe it’s all the euphoric shots of ginseng I’m pumping into my system.

Whatever it is, I am happy to live in a world where there are 46 cans of various flavors of Mountain Dews in my refrigerator bought for me by a economy that decided to see what I, a 27 year old male would do with six hundred dollars.

The answer, as I’ve come to expect it, is do the dew.

God Bless America,
Gregory David