Here's the adorable and lovable and demonizing thing about candy bars: just when you satisfy your urge with one variety by over-consuming them until death is knocking at your door, you discover another even better tasting one to obsess over.
Witness: The first "relationship" was with Heath bars. I love heath. I love toffee and chocolate and little tiny nuts. I love them getting stuck to my back molars. I love them broken up in Blizzards. I love them on boats and floats and with goats. Gross.
After I broke it off with Heath (I just accidentally typed Keath and thought that was ironic since I've broken up with more candy bars then boys in my lifetime, I digress). After Heath came Reese's PB Cups. Holy mackerel on a corn dog stick. These beauties could be eaten melty and gooey or frozen with equal delight. They can be nibbled or snatched up in one bite. They go well in the center of sugar cookies, though secretly you want to say to hell with the cookie and give me more PB cups. I ate the bejesus out of those.
Just when I thought I was safe from PB and chocolate cravings, they had to go and invent this freaking bar, Nutrageous. I'm definitely one who gives credit where credit is due, and let me tell you, it was pretty freaking outrageous. Chunky, crunchy peanut butter and nuts and chocolate? Yes, I'll have about a thousand, thank you. Buy one bar in the checkout lane? Screw that, I'm going to Sam's Club, and that's just to take the edge off.
Next up was a surprise, I'd battled with the social stigma of Snicker's bars for sometime, never succumbing to peer pressure and advertising to get me on the bandwagon. Then one day I said to myself, Self, get off your high horse and try a damn Snickers bar, it won't kill you. WHO DAT? I luh uh uh uh uve Snickers bars. Mostly the Giant Size ones, Fun Size doesn't do the whole ensemble enough justice. I don't like them in ice cream though, strike one for Snicker.
Following the Snickers attack of 2005 came a new addition, Take 5. How about take 405? That's what happened after I tried this little doozy out of the vending machine while working 12 hour night shifts. If you don't think you deserve a Take 5 after a 12 hour night shift, you're masochistic. Everyone deserves a Take 5, everyone! I'd like to put my political beliefs where my mouth is and say that if we'd all just sit down and Take 5 together, we could get this whole mess with Iran straightened the f*&$ out. Senators, you are welcome.
Lately, another surprising turn of events has happened. And! He snuck up on me with the Fun Size. I never thought it possible, but the cookie-carmel-chocolate combination of holiness that is a Twix bar has stolen my heart this time. I am a slave to the Twix bar. I think about him all day and have resorted to emptying my pockets and wallet of all change before leaving for work so I don't "accidentally" stop by one of the 3 thousand vending machines in this place for a quickie. It's like a sickness of intense proportions now that there's practically two of me calling for the Twix-bar's head. Just typing about it is giving me the shakes.
I wonder if we'd spend a whole session on this at therapy?