It's not that I don't LIKE Diet Dr Pepper. (Though typically I prefer it mixed with gold label SoCo.)
Based on the results of a three-year clinical trial, I know that I need 20 oz. of Diet Coke to wake up. This usually isn't a problem: I walk to the vending machine and get a 20 oz. Diet Coke. But because the vending machine 30 feet from my desk HAS NOT BEEN SERVICED IN OVER A WEEK, both buttons of Diet Coke are sold out. And I don't do Diet Pepsi.
You are correct if you assume there are other vending machines in Hallmark, and this is where the left side of the photo comes in.
My feet are two different sizes, so the first few days of new shoes are a blistery nightmare. It's all Band-aided up now, but my right foot is still so ouch-y that even the IDEA of walking down the hall and down the stairs to the nearest vending machine is painful.
So, cute new shoes = yawning until noon. And this is the kind of excitement Friday brings to me.