Tonight I post from the heart of NYC. I am the chauffeur for a gaggle of screaming teenies who just HAVE to see their idol in concert in Times Square. But instead of sending them on their own, or driving, dropping them off and then coming back in, I have decided to stay in TS and relax while I wait for them to come out. This experience should be enough to inspire an angry post. About the traffic, the car accident right in front of me which made turning from 46th onto Broadway difficult, or the pedestrian traffic which made turning back onto 45th almost impossible. I saw 2 naked cowboys, an Elmo, a Minnie Mouse, a Spider Man, a Statue of Liberty and also some people dressed up as characters. There were tourists galore taking pictures of each other standing in traffic because when you get back to wherever it is you have come from, you want to show your friends how you stood in traffic and didn't get killed. Unless you got killed. Then that's gotta be embarrassing. The parking lot I was looking for simply does not exist. There are 2 others on the same block but not the one the internet promised me. But I have my coffee and am on the 8th floor of the Marriott in the lobby on my computer being very much the cool guy writing on his blog about how he is above being impressed by Times Square and the real NY is a bunch of blocks away where no one really goes because it is too cool. Yeah. I'm that guy.
But that's not what I wanted to write about. I needed to discuss a serious issue which arose this afternoon as I read the circulars. Admit it -- you read the circulars also, sometimes to check prices and other times just to get a sense of all the cool stuff that the world has to offer. So anyhoo, I was working my way through the Target circular (I am not getting paid for mentioning them. I wish I was, but apparently, they don't work like that. Jerks.) and I see this candy bar. Take a look.
Now, let's review, shall we? Snickers bar. Got it. And, no, they aren't paying me either. What is up with this world? Here I am, dropping brand names left and right and delivering a consistent 20 sets of eyes and I get nothing for my trouble. This is dumb, and quite possibly, not fair. I'll have to check. So, Snickers. I love Snickers bars. If you see me, give me one and watch my face light up. And then break out in acne, but whatever. They're really good.
Size? One pound. Think about that -- a ONE POUND Snickers bar. Your standard bar is 2.07 ounces. This is bigger than that, I checked. A pound, according to my sources, is 16 ounces. So that's almost 8 bars in one. Those miniatures bother me but this is perfect over compensation. One pound. Snickers. I am right there.
Then I see it: "Slice and Share."
What? Let's review THAT, shall we?
First off, who in the world slices candy bars. It just isn't done. I once saw a television show about a finishing school where the hoity toity people learn to use all sorts of cutlery. Salad fork, soup spoon, custard tongs. Whatever. THERE WAS NO CANDY KNIFE. No candy knife, indeed. One simply does not slice a Snickers bar. I'm sorry but that's a real truth. The accepted ways of divvying up a candy bar are-
What? That sounds wrong. Oh year, the other problem besides "slice" is "share." Who the hell are you to tell me that I have to share this thing. I bought it and I'm gonna eat it. Share a candy bar? Maybe a Twix which has 2 distinct pieces. Maybe maybe a Kit Kat that can be snapped apart. I always thought that that was just a convenience for the one person who was going to eat the whole thing so he could save a discrete piece for later but, hey, I am willing to accept that once, somewhere, someone thought that after eating 12 Kit Kats he could celebrate his anniversary by breaking one piece off for his significant other. It might have happened. I don't approve but I can concede the hypothetical.
But a Snickers bar? There is no scoring in it to allow disassembly. There is no other piece (a la the 100 Grand bar so that while you are spending half an hour working on the first piece, you can bribe a security guard with the other piece). The Snickers bar is a singular unit. I buy it, I eat it. I will not be bullied into sharing my candy with anyone. You want some, go buy some.
Anyway, I'm going to finish my coffee and go to the M+M's store and have a couple of pounds of M+M's. If you see me, don't even ask.