So am I the only one who's been grazing on left over fun size candy bars for the last week? Got to justify buying that 2 lb bag at Costco, you know. $20 sounded like such a deal.
I'm sure I could cut back and spread the treats out over time -- everyone knows that junk's so pumped up with preservatives that it'll last a week into the next ice age.
I was therefore actually kind of sad that the above ancient (28 years young) package of Sweetarts that I found in an old hunting jacket at an Oxnard thrift had long been devoured.
Sure, a Carter/Reagan-era Snickers might be deadly by now -- and I have an unpleasant memory of eating a mini Hershey's bar I found languishing under my friend's bed back in the 70s. But I seriously think I would have popped these antique Sweetarts into my mouth without a second thought. I have a funny feeling that Sweetarts will be the primary foodstuff of the post World War Three crowd, what with all the zombies and radiated cans of corn making grocery shopping difficult. If it's good enough for the old man in the cave, then it's good enough for me.
Plus, the potential psychedelic effects of finely aged pre-post-punk high fructose corn syrup would be a nice bonus, no?
Maybe I'm just loopy from all the chocolate.