Now I'm a Believer

I'm a geek. But I'm a believer.

I'll explain: Approximately three years and one month ago, I moved to my current residence. The house is old...at least as old as my parents. And the water in Bountiful has enough minerals in it to create stalactites out of shower heads. Combine these two facts with, say, a decade or two of apathetic tenants and you get something like this in the kitchen:



This mess you see here has been the bane of my existence for the past 37 months and the embarassment of the establishment. I have tried it all-- Lime Away, Comet, Lysol, forks, knives. NOTHING would touch it. Not too long ago, my dad came over to the house to help me with some handy-man work. As he washed up in the kitchen sink, his disgust was apparent. I defended my efforts as I told him of my plight. He then let me in on a little cleaning secret that worked for him and my mom many years ago:



I can't say that I was convinced that a bottle of soda was going to do anything--despite all of the old wives tales I've heard. But...while wandering aimlessly through the grocery store a couple of days ago, I spied the soda section and decided to give my dad's advice a go.

So tonight, one liter and two hours later, I give my testimonial of Coca-Cola. I'm a believer. Forget the polar bears, Santa Claus and even the Olympic Rings, Coke could get more milage out of June Cleaver! Because, ladies and gentlemen, what you see below is nothing short of a miracle:



I'd just like to know what it does to your stomach!