Last year, all I wanted after Holloween was a pop corn ball and every place sold out of them before I could get around to getting some. I actually chased some women down in walmart to ask here where the hell she got her boxes (she had 3 in her cart) and then went directly to the skid of lowly balls left. I picked up two 18-pack boxes.
I then saw many other people looking at my cart forlornly throughout the rest of our shopping trip. They, however, did not have the balls (ha!) to ask me where I got mine. The other shoppers just looked kind of sad as memories of childhoood popcorn ball disappointment played behind their eyes.
As a kid, I always wondered "Who the hell wants to eat a popcorn ball?" or worse yet, the dreaded Mary-Jane. No, being too old to enjoy the snickers and milky way, I now love pop corn balls and mary janes. And I have an otherworldly love for Werther Originals that seems to increase with age.
Although my dentist just told me I have to give up all of the above if I want to keep my teeth forever. Proof of my oldness.
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