Saturday, October 30, 2004


walked to the mercantile (that's the name of the store. i'm not being cute. 'tis the ol' west. shucks.) to buy an over priced bottle of vanilla extract. upon entering we espied the hostess baked goods rack. i turned my attention to the task at hand. someone nudged me. it was the sister. "put out your hand," she says. "what? why?" "put out your hand. set that stuff down. are you ready?" "i guess." (putting out paw.) i saw that she was putting what appeared to be a hostess product into my palm. it should have been cake weight. but no. incongruous. "what is this?" but then i saw the embedded food-dyed nuggets. fruitcake. a hostess ingot of fruit cake. sure, i know, it's been said before. fruitcake is hard. dense. the butt of yuletide jokes. fruitcake in and of itself is no cause for astonishment. but i shake my head, hostess. for shame. anyway, i can't imagine that someone would a) actively seek out a loaf of fruitcake and b) would give first consideration to a convenience store. for that matter, i can't think why anybody would give last consideration to a convenience store when searching for fruitcake. after a hard day's fruitcaking he finds his prize in the least likely of places. no. or maybe this is hostess' shady endeavor to pedal weaponry. a fruitcake cudgel. i don't know.

in other news...

i've read today that british folk use "cheeselog" as another word for pillbug. which begs the question, what manner of cheeselogs have those poor people been consuming? if cheeselogs in britain bear any resemblence to pillbugs the state of british cuisine is far worse than i had previously suspected.


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