Wednesday, November 16, 2011

This sounds like something I would read on Hyperbole and a Half, but it's my life, I swear.

So... You remember Space Ice Cream?

You know, the freeze-dried brick of... whatever... that was about the size of your palm that you could buy at any museum anywhere for about seven dollars?

I loved that stuff.

I probably had it twice in all my life, because it's so goddamn expensive, and I was cognizant of that as a child. I was a weird kid. As an adult, I still want to buy a brick of the stuff every time I end up in the Adler, or the Museum of Science and Industry or what have you. But, as an adult, I'm even poorer now than I was when I was a kid, if that's even possible, so it's just out of the question.

This story has a point, I swear.

So... yesterday, I was in a JoAnns, because I needed some fringe and felt and tinsel, and that's where I go when I need things to glue on my panties. They have a wall of candy by the checkout. Including a lot of stuff you don't really see at the grocery store. Among these offerings was something called a Three Musketeers Truffle Crisp. I'd seen them there before, and always been kind of curious. Quite frankly, I kind of thought it was going to be gross, but I'm on my period, and everything sounds good as long as it's smothered in chocolate, so I figured I'd give it a go.

So I get into the parking lot, and I'm ripping the thing open, because I can't even wait to get in my car, apparently. And it's really kind of tasty. That crunchy layer, whatever the hell it is, has a really pleasant texture. But what *is* it? It's so damn familiar.

I get in the car. I take another bite. I drive halfway across the parking lot and then slam on the brakes.



And it was a dollar.

I'm tempted to buy myself a case of them.

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