Children do not know how to accurately predict trends. Yeah, I said it. They’re lousy tastemakers. Call it an unpopular opinion like Carly Fiorina’s weird demon sheep campaign ad, but I’m sincerely tired of seeing what they come up with. They don’t know what America wants. I mean, I’m all for grapes that taste like non-grape things, but cotton candy is just another word for sugar. And now Dum Dums are still pandering to the fun-sized masses with pizza-flavored lollipops.
In an age where children are born with their own Gmail accounts, it’s easy to feel shafted on the social media front. I hear you, disgruntled children of the teens. It’s not easy having to remember both that you love potatoes and a randomized ten digit code signifying so, potatoluvr593857381. OkCupid makes you slap an -asaurus or -taco to your name as if those are acceptable suffixes for quirkiness. There are entire businesses dedicated to suffix generation. It’s not easy out there. Have a pickle ball. Continue reading “Sour Pickle Balls”
I’m putting off a difficult task and it’s getting in the way of the generally hilarious tomfoolery on this sinking ship of a semi-never-famous empire that I created back in high school when love was merely a hilarious anagram for evol and all my shirts were from woot.com. It isn’t the blog- that’s collateral damage in the larger scheme of pulling the trigger on the Rube Goldbergian stage of bureaucratic events that enable me to not go to France next year to study and cavort and live minimalistically while still maintaining a sense of style, escapism, happiness, and jeunesse that I struggle to find in Hartford. That would have made such a great novel. That novel would have pushed Eat, Pray, Love to the curb.
I would have had the best author photo. Or at least the best byline on my article at The Toast.
Yes, quite the problem to have, it’s funny in a stupid, hyperspecific way, like being catfished by a stock photo, but I still haven’t quite reached the point where I’m comfortable typing those words or pressing the button that pushes me another turn around the carousel before I have to hop off and enter the real world and get a job. In this world, the carousel is also not limited to children, keep that in mind, so I’m definitely not imaginary trespassing in this imaginary theme park allegory that I have created. Continue reading “Cadbury’s Marvellous Creations Jelly Popping Candy Chocolate”
One last hurrah before I start my long and lonely drive with little more than Supertramp and protein shakes for company. I picked this up at Whole Foods a few days ago- it’s rare that I miss the Fancy Food Show; this would have been my fifth consecutive year, and with work obligations and the weekday timing of the show, I just can’t make it. I’m sadder than I expected, so I’ve been combing the shelves in a sort of halfhearted miniature attempt to mimic the real thing. And lo and behold, I found some new chocolate! From what I’ve read, Bixby Bars have been around since 2013 and have some magnificent flavors and sweet, minimal packaging with a vintage flair. This is- was, the Whippersnapper, with 72% dark chocolate, walnuts, Maine blueberries, and Tellicherry black pepper. Continue reading “Bixby Bar Whippersnapper”
Oh, gas stations. Sometimes I forget how novel and wonderful they are. I’ll admit, having a car and paying my own bills and buying toilet paper, the harbingers of adulthood, has made me a little jaded. Gone are the days when I could waltz into a convenience store on the hunt for nary more than barbecue chicken-flavored Cheetos and leave with that and a Slurpee. Now there’s gas to buy, or I’ll slump in for an Aspirin after a long night of studying. The novelties go overlooked in favor of deodorant and ice scrapers. Perhaps I sensed something magical in the damp, inexplicably snowy air today, because I paused by the candy aisle, scanning the Hershey bars, Starburst, and weird, sticky Twizzlers knockoffs to find something delightfully creepy, and terribly named. Continue reading “Nutffles Red Velvet Truffles”
Peeps ahoy. Fresh from an impulse shopping trip at Target, replete with rice macaroni and cheese, tiny bottles of Gatorade, and orange cereal bowls, we scouted and discovered a new and equally terrible breed of Peeps, this time in acrid lemonade flavor! Full disclosure, some part of the $1.29 does go toward curing childhood cancer, so even if you purchase these for the sole purpose of pelting someone in the head with them, you’re doing a little good for the world. Continue reading “Sweet Lemonade Peeps”
Easter. It’s a popular holiday, from what I’ve heard! I celebrate holidays in the same way some people eat at buffets- I sample. I’m bipartisan to both Hanukkah and Christmas, I indulge in brisket at Passover, and I gladly collect my basket when the rabbit comes around. And I love Easter candy- it’s guileless, it lacks the weird brand and character reliance and codependency of Valentine’s Day candy, and seems to have the most variation from year to year. This year alone, we’ve seen an entire Duff Goldman’s worth of cake flavors from Russell Stover, and now, mutant Peeps! I reserve the right to call them Creeps. Continue reading “Sour Watermelon Marshmallow Peeps”
Happy New Year.
Why are there so many new people at the gym?They think that I don’t know that they’re new. They think they’ll blend in to the circuit of toothy, muscular guys, wafer-thin co-eds, children who don’t know how elliptical machines work, and me. They think they’ll leave the weights at the lowest setting, or gab at the new, stupid-looking CrossFit station by the water fountain, or loiter near the hot tubs as if their decision to go in hinges upon a great, existential issue intent on irritating me, and change all the channels from the vastly superior Food Network to something horrible, like A&E.
What’s the next holiday? Houseplant Appreciation Day? Fuck that. I’m bad at holidays. The holiday that I am the worst at is Valentine’s Day. This is because I am not a twee blogger. I am not the type of person to create a clever, heart-themed meal for my DGNP (dear gender-neutral partner) or frost a perfectly color-coordinated cake in my footprint-sized kitchen. For the last three Valentine’s Days celebrated, I have, in reverse chronological order, sent a Gucci scarf overseas that never arrived, gone to a convention, and dated a guy. Woof, man. This year, I expect to do fairly well. I’m going to a job fair. But it won’t be so terrible, because there is no way I can do as poorly as these Red Velvet M&M’s. Continue reading “Red Velvet M&M’s”
I am a member of the Collective Bias/Social Fabric Community. This shop has been compensated as a part of a social shopper insights study for Collective Bias and their client. Screw those Whitman’s Samplers and chintzy stockings– you want this Christmas present idea for your next shindig. Yes, I was paid. No, it doesn’t make this any less awesome.Guest Anxiety II: The Guest-ening is out now that Christmas is in season and people have forgotten Hanukkah. I’ve partnered with Walgreens and Collective Bias to create a wholly essential, utterly ridiculous hostess gift for the holidays. Ladies and ladies, and lost gentlemen, I present to you, the December Delirium Tremens. It’s 100% more useful than sriracha-bacon candy canes, and gender androgynous to boot. It has a few nifty gifties in its blanketed confines as a clever nod for the afterparty, or the day after. If someone brought me a hostess gift that was meant for usage in the party, I’d be miffed. I naturally assume, that like me, all host(esse)s have coordinated and planned everything for their parties in mid-July. It would be presumptuous of me to add something that could potentially clash. Incidentally, this is also why I end up bringing Carr’s Water Crackers and gin to every party I go to. I’m a hit at 8th birthdays. Continue reading “The December Delirium Tremens: Holiday Gifts, Walgreens, and You #HappyAllTheWay”