If It's So Gross, Why Do You Keep Drinking It, Dumbass?

If you were me six years ago and it was summertime in Omaha, you probably spent a few afternoons draining pitchers of Coors Light that turned into evenings of countless Wild Turkeys and even more beer. Eventually you'd find yourself at one of those sprawling apartment complexes on Blondo, scavenging the fridge of a friend of a friend of some girl your buddy kinda knows for a nightcap and something to eat. Tammy or Libby or Holly or whoever has only a Totino's party pizza — which, right then, sounded like the grandest meal anyone could ever imagine — and three and a half bottles of Smirnoff Ice, all of which you finish in minutes.

So, you're standing in a surgical-grade white kitchen with the florescent lights pulsing down on you, adding to a mixture of swill beer and whiskey you should really know better than to tempt in the first place this pale, sugary, cold-but-not-cold-tasting wine cooler junior and you start to feel it: that punchy, sunstroke feeling where you're equal parts tired, nauseous, and irritated. Or as I know it now, the taste of Glaceau's VitaminEnergy.

Have you seen this stuff? It's water... poorly flavored... and served in a can. A can! Glacéau makes three varieties of this bile and, thanks to the stash of party leftovers in the conference room, I've tried them all: tropical citrus (lemony-ish), fruit punch (grape Kool-Aid warmed in the sun), and dragonfruit (one part week-old Sprite, one part Robitussin). Oh, kids, it's bad. So bad. Stick to tapwater in an old Dasani bottle, mkay?