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I love Diet Dr. Pepper. I love it the way some people, myself included, love champagne. It’s a delicacy, and I’m almost entirely sure those born with the 90s as their sun sign and Texas as their rising have no choice but to be beholden to the bubbly goodness. There’s also an allure to the beverage, as finding a cold, sharp Diet Dr. Pepper on a soda fountain happens about as often as comets fly by in view. In fact every time I find this grail, I text my stepfather to tell him about it. Typically, if you want it, you have to buy it in can form and keep it the pantry. I love Diet Dr. Pepper, but I never buy it. Because Diet Dr. Pepper is in my “no” pile.