Share a Coke with a Neurotic

We have a small refrigerator in our garage which contains drinks exclusively. The fridge in our kitchen is a different story, and I’d be embarrassed at what you’d find inside of it. A jar of something clear and yellow that I’d have to sniff to identify. Chicken broth, probably, or maybe pineapple juice. Four different (and opened) jars of olives, because we can’t be bothered to thouroughly check before popping the top of a new container. There is even a small, still-wet paintbrush wrapped in a plastic Wal-Mart sack that I intend to use soon(ish) for touching up the recently-painted walls of Carrie’s bedroom. That little fridge out back, though: nothing but sodas, beer and bottled water.

I don’t typically drink a lot of soda, but when the weather gets terribly hot, I’ll indulge in a coke. Once a week, maybe. A reward I’ll give myself for performing a strenuous outdoor chore (e.g. checking the mail or vacuuming out my car). I had such a coke this afternoon. Ice cold. Sweet. For the first couple of slugs, all was right with the world. Then I caught a glimpse of the can.

Share a Coke with your BFF.


My BFF was suddenly on the forefront of my mind. She and I haven’t spoken in days. She has been vacationing in California. Is she back home in Tennessee? Is she safe? Has she been home for three days now wondering when I would get around to calling? Is she ticked that I haven’t already done so? Does she remember that I was going to spend some time at Lake Sinclair? Haven’t I explained to her how bad the cell signal is out there?

Share a Coke with your BFF.

My BFF doesn’t really drink coke. She tries to drink lots of water. It’s better for your skin. And your digestion. And for weight management. And I’m just as fat as I’ve ever been these days. I am trying to drink more water. That is what I told my BFF, at least. But there I was. In my garage. Drinking coke. She would be ashamed. Goodness knows I was ashamed.

Share a Coke with your BFF.

How does that make a woman feel, I wonder, if she has no BFF? What if this poor, friendless woman got herself a Coke and ended up with the BFF can? Or what if the two of them had a huge argument about something and were no longer on speaking terms? That’d have to make her feel lousy. A close friendship is very important to woman’s self-esteem. Imagine being that woman. Like, great, here I am, about to wash down 140 empty calories in a matter of minutes, and the Coke a Cola corporation decides to get a dig in about my social life.

Share a Coke with your BFF.

If I’m to be honest, I don’t want to share this drink with my BFF. I don’t want to share it with anybody. Not my own kids, even. I know that sounds horrible, but I’m only drinking like one of these a week. I told you that already. I don’t have an ounce to spare. Why do you think I stayed in the garage until I’d polished off the can? Because standing in that hot, dusty garage for my pick-me-up was preferable to going into the house where the children would beg for a sip. Or call me a hypocrite. We thought you said soda was bad for your teeth, Mom. I don’t want to hear it. My job is the reason we have dental insurance, and if I want to assault my teeth to the point that I have to get a root canal every other year (and I do have to get a root canal very other year), it is really none of their business.

Share a Coke with your BFF.

I went back over to the drink refrigerator and examined the rest of the cans. Seems there were several individuals with whom the good people at Coke a Cola feel I should share my soda.

Share a coke with a buddy. A soulmate, A star. A legend. Seriously, that is what one of the cans said. A legend! Tell me that wouldn’t make you feel like a total loser, someone offering you a swig from the legend can. The offer would be dripping with sarcasm.

“Here you go. ‘Cause you’re such a ‘legend’ and all. Drink up, ‘legend!'”

Share a Coke with your BFF.

The can also has a share-a-coke web address. And I went to it! Advertising works on me. I found that you can customize a virtual coke bottle and send it to someone electronically. Here are a few I whipped up:


The “future diabetic” bottle, it is a joke, but it is also a fear of mine. I miss the early part of my childhood when I could get a glass-bottle coke form the manual vending machine in the barber shop next door to my Dad’s office. I miss being blissfully ignorant about cavities and diabetes. I miss the early 80s when Have a Coke and a smile was not only an advertising slogan, but a thing I could actually do.


10 Comments on “Share a Coke with a Neurotic

    • And they are also selling coke bottles with names on them. You can check the availability of your name on their website. “Ginger” is not an option, but I’ve always got Ginger Ale, so what do I care. My son’s very common name, “William” is also not available. You can, however, but a coke that says “Tiara.”

      • I remember seeing a series of pictures, somewhere on the interwebz, that was titled “Cannibalism.” It started with a woman with red hair drinking a Ginger Ale. Transition to the label on the can “made with real ginger.” Transition to the woman with a look of shock and horror on her face. I had a Charlton Heston moment and noted “Ginger Ale is people!”

  1. Hey, I wasn’t exactly sure how else to contact you so I’m doing it here. šŸ™‚ I nominated you for the Liebster award because I think you’re pretty great and have enjoyed reading what you have to say! I hope you accept the award and pass on the love! šŸ™‚

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