That is... until I opened up a bottle of Dasani water and drank half of it. It tastes like stale cigarette ash. The bottle says it's bottled in Bellafonte, PA. I have no idea where that is in PA, but I'm sure it's close enough to NJ that all of the pollution from our beautiful oil refineries has trickled into their water supply. I might as well just drink Milltown tap, and that tastes like fish corpse rubbed with rotten garlic.
Anyway, last night was a terrific night for documentary television. I'm going to listen to Confessions of a Serial Killer and fall back asleep. No matter how much my life changes, the important stuff- like my choice in fine programming, always stays the same.