Considering that my diet consists almost exclusively of colors and numbers magically scienced into being, I find it shocking that I was ignorant of the greatest candy development of the last generation.
I had a feeling that there was a deep void in my life that needed filling (hot), and it must have been an extensional longing for this – the most glorious, and meta, of sugary creations. Finally a wise and benevolent candy angel took the time to think upon what was missing from candy. And this is what he came up with:
dessert Skittles
How could I have been so unaware of this? I was under this blind impression that candy WAS a dessert, and, fuck me, was I wrong. There is nothing more delightful and repugnant as a Skittle that somehow (through Skittle magic science) also tastes like a blueberry tart.
Thank you, Skittles. You are a kindly company looking out for the nutritionally negligent and creating great feats of candy-dessert achievements. Holy holy holy!
What does this look like to you? Does it look like candy? An adorable pumpkin shaped candy? Let’s say you dig your hand into the basket of Halloween candy in the back of your office pull this out, think it’s some sort of candy corn, and proceed to eat it.
When you realize that it’s actually an eraser, and that you are eating an eraser at work, what would you do:
Covertly spit it out while hiding the shame on your face
Try to pull it off like it IS actually candy and just eat an eraser
I did one of the above. I will let you decide which.
Oh hey! There was hurricane throughout the East Coast from Sunday to Tuesday of last week. Did you hear about this? Gotta tell you, I ignored every single news report of it because my evil Canadian overlord (see: my job) almost assuredly wouldn’t close. I prepared for the hurricane as the best little You Life I could be. I went to the dollar store and got the essentials:
cat food – look at how fucking terrified that cat is, also 30% protein? Amazing. Cat litter – for cartoon animals
And diet coke.
Sunday night I was lounging when I got a call that indicated that the East Coast was going to fall into the ocean: my office was closed. Perhaps I should have purchased a candle? Nope – let the rains come.
The beginning of the hurricane stay-vaction
On Monday I woke up to a gray sky, but nothing that indicated to me that the gods’ were wrathful. After waking up, going back to sleep, waking up again, and then trying to make a cup of coffee from an espresso machine that I forgot I stole from a cunty ex-roommate I was up. Starving. Bored.
So I assessed the following two things: the secret reserves in the apartment
This is for the end times. The secret storage of candy, syrup, and strawberry fluff
And how it looked outside:
Let’s be frank. There is only so much reading, movie watching, hobby-doing, and masturbating that a person can do in one day. At around two I had enough. I left the apartment to walk to get food. Nothing was open. So then, I did what any adult would do.
I went to see how terrifying the playground was during the hurricane
Shortly after going on the swings a police officer drove by and gave me a very stern tongue lashing pertaining to the idiocy of wandering around during a storm.
Returned home.
Sent this text message to my best friend after the lights started flickering:
“I better not have to wank off by candle light” (it would be like jerking off during Little House of the Prairie times. I want to crank it with all of the modern amenities).
Hunger took over. So I did what I needed to do…
I defrosted the chocolate bunnies from Easter, seven months earlier, and covered them in Cupcake magic shell for dinner
Sadness. Utter sadness.
Finally a friend without power came over with the barest of cooking supplies (defrosted chicken thighs, a mini pan, rice, and rum). Seeing as how I don’t own any of the following: cooking oil, a pot, utensils, or a pan it was going to be a trial to cook both the chicken and rice. But, since I am a bit of a fucking wizard I made an entire meal using the smallest frying pan known to man and an iron skillet that was so large that it could have cooked me. I steamed the rice in the skillet with a pizza box. INDUSTRIOUSNESS.
While cooking this a Queen song played in the background. What is covering the bitty frying pan? A metal pizza “stone” …rust side up.
Tuesday:
Tried to sleep in. With great success
Played SNES for hours
In the battle for Kirby dominance I told Happy Brother Senior to eat an entire bag of dicks and finished the victor.
And then it all de-evolved after the second entire day without leaving the apartment. It de-evolved into me creating this “mojito” mix that I think was a code for rat poison. It called to fill a plastic bucket with warm water, this neon green powder, and rum. Later on that day I could be found amongst the piles of VHS tapes in my apartment, eating the slushy poison out of a bucket, dancing to the last song from the credits in Legend.
No seriously, Tangerine Dream is fucking out of this world amazing.
And that is how I survived.
Because I was fine. And my love was strong enough.
Hearts, and flowers, and posi vibes to those not as ridiculously fortunate as me.
I wasn’t allowed to have snack food growing up. No soda, no caffeine, no candy. My mother was, and is, a phenomenal cook which meant that I was blessed with awesome meals everyday – including packed lunches.
There is a part of me that would like to repay these healthy eating habits during my youth with a balanced and mature response to the ability to now purchase my own groceries and prepare my own meals.
On the other hand. Breakfast candy sounds delightful
Good morning, cancer. I’ve noted that the main ingredients in most of my breakfast consisted of colors and numbers.
Some time ago, in a land not far far away, a girl made a promise to herself to stop eating as though her fast metabolism was going to last forever.
Just a brief example of what I like to eat for breakfast. Mega Blow Pop stories to follow at a later date.
I have a great deal of trepidation that one day my Cheetos® for breakfast fare will cause me a massive coronary before the age of 30. After much speculation I decided to eat better and exercise regularly. The next day I ate a bagel with cream cheese and Cheez-It®s (see previous entry). So, I figured that maybe I would become obsessed with working out and getting a gym membership.
But so far there is only one thing I am obsessed with.
Cheez-It®
And, yes, you are seeing that correctly. It’s a pizza covered in Cheez-It®s and then doused with hot sauce.
You life is not so great 