Because sometimes coffee just won't cut it

Here at the Dig offices, Red Bull (and sugar-free Red Bull and Red Bull Cola) are free and delivered in bulk. I'm not usually one for energy drinks, but I happen to have a very boring class on Wednesday nights, and a Hulk-sized dose of caffeine is the only thing that can keep me even half awake. Plus, did I mention the free?

In addition to the weird Sweet Tart-like flavor and highlighter yellow color, Red Bull packs some... unusual ingredients. In case you like to know exactly how you're embalming your insides, Wired.com breaks down exactly what they put in that little silver can that gives you wings. Sorry, wiiiings.

I guess if I ever get tired of Red Bull, I have a few options. And it appears energy drinks are becoming the new Wheaties, except with rappers instead of pro athletes. The top two offerings: Nelly's pimp juice and Lil Jon's Crunk!!! Energy Drink. According to the website, "Pimp Juice, currently only available in the Extra Strength formula, is a healthy, non-carbonated energy drink possessing a tropical berry flavor. Pimp Juice’s artificial coloring gives it a smooth neon green glow, while its 10 % apple juice content adds a natural sweetness to its taste." Crunk!!!, on the other hand, "was the first energy drink to discover the tart, refreshing flavor of natural pomegranate juice. It's all natural. No artificial flavors, colors, or any of that junk. And CRUNK!!! is the only energy drink with unique, exotic herbs like ashwaganda, horny goat weed, skull cap and white willow to keep yo' game tight."

I for one can't wait til Kanye West releases his drink - Egomania Elixir: the soda of our generation. 

I can dress myself!

Okay, I’ll admit it: I’m from the South. Not just any place in the South either: Dallas, Texas, that Dixie-fried wonderland of big-haired women, home of JR’s legendary South Fork Ranch (where I had my senior prom), the Cowboys, the grassy knoll where JFK was shot, and more steakhouses per square mile than China has sweatshops. So yes, it’s a bit of a culture shock to come to Boston, where things are actually built underground, where the streets are crowded, businessmen carry iPods and backpacks, and public transportation is the norm instead of Lexus SUV’s. Being the new kid in town, so to speak, I realize it’s my duty to adapt to my environment. And I’m trying. I can embrace the hour-long T rides. I’ll frolic happily on the Common on my lunch break. I’ll even start coming home early on the weekends to kowtow to the ridiculous train schedules. But there is one thing I will fanatically, unequivocally insist until my dying day:

Leggings are not pants.

Cotton leggings are not pants. Stretch leather leggings are not pants. Gold lamé leggings are not pants (do you hear me, Dov Charney?) This trend of women leaving the house pantsless seems to be experiencing a disturbing upswing. I’ve seen PYFs (pantsless young females) everywhere from Dunkin Donuts on Monday morning to swanky Cambridge bars on Saturday night. Is this a northern thing, some sort of gap in the child-rearing process that lets parents send their daughters out into the world unaware that being fully dressed every time they leave the house is not actually optional? Put on a skirt, some sweatpants, hell, dust off your jorts – but spandex pantyhose and an ironic t-shirt do not an outfit make. (Incidentally tights are also not pants, so don't even think about it.)

I submit to the jury the following roster of evidence. I think you’ll agree it’s conclusive. If for some reason you need more convincing, listen to this cautionary tale/instructional ballad by the sadly defunct but eternally wise Fanny Pack. Cartoons don’t lie, people.