Last summer I spent two different columns discussing my fascination with Vanilla Coke. It got to the point where it wasn't about the Coke, but more so about the fascination, putting it on the same level as lawn darts or fruit roll-ups. When I first starting seeing the commercials for Pepsi Vanilla, I was equally as excited. I thought it would be a rebirth in vanilla madness for me -- a replacement of my beloved Vanilla Coke, which I still consume in decent quantities today and live to tell about...

I originally gave credit to Pepsi's marketing technique, opting for Pepsi Vanilla as opposed to Vanilla Pepsi, just so people wouldn't think they copied the vanilla idea, I'm sure. This is the same company that came out with Wild Cherry Pepsi far after cherries were in their prime, and the same company that invented Pepsi Blue around a year ago, an appropriate name because it caused consumers to feel exactly that. But alas, this would be the rebirth of Pepsi, I told myself -- and possibly you (if I know you). And you know what? I was wrong. It's not that Pepsi Vanilla is bad. It's just that it tastes really familiar. Oh yeah, like Vanilla Coke. In fact, if I were to start a taste test and invite myself to it -- and believe me, I've pondered this -- I would not be able to tell the difference. So the marketing is correct: Pepsi Vanilla really is the not-so-vanilla vanilla. Rather, it's Vanilla Coke in disguise. And I need answers (not necessarily about Vanilla Pepsi; just anything in general)...I need answers now. Really. E-mail me, Pepsi...

Speaking of disguises and those who should be wearing them, I nominate squirrels. The other day I encountered a squirrel while driving, and it refused to leave the street as my car approached it. Instead, it just slowly took its time, forcing me to move around it. Oh never mind, this was actually a senior citizen...

I don't think they show enough senior citizens on stadium Jumbotrons. In some ways, this is our loss, I guess...

I am not sure why people in stadiums are so fascinated with trying to get themselves onto the Jumbotron. In many cases, stadium dwellers spend more time looking at the screen than the actual field -- and I am not just referring to Mets game, where the field contains no actual action. Regardless of the location, people love to know that others are watching them as they sit there and wave at the camera. Many will call all of their friends to inform them of all the excitement of the game and, oh yeah, "I was on the Jumbotron for, like, three seconds and it was so awesome." The irony here is that, beyond sporting events, most people devote all of their time to not being seen by others. Zits, stains and social awkwardness are the reason for this, and many assume such will not be apparent on the big screen, which happens to be a magnified version of real life. I wonder what would happen if ants were shown on the Jumbotron, because magnification tends to burn them -- literally. Maybe burning ants on the big screen would be enough to encourage people in stadiums to pay more attention to the field. The ants aren't magnified there. Not even the vanilla ones...

But I digress.

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