Every time I eat them I think, "My mother loved M&M's".
This is one of the few things attached to the memory of my mother that doesn't bother me. (Unlike other vestiges of her memory; canned salmon, egg salad sandwiches, Hansen's Soda.) I think maybe this is because my clearest memories of the M&M's my mother ate were from before the tan/blue swap in the mid 90's. (I never liked the blue M&M's, for the record, and I miss the old color scheme. Now they just seem...neon-y and alien. And yes, this nostalgia for the old set does feel contradictory.)
Today I was beyond exhausted. (And I remain beyond exhausted despite my two hour nap following my shift). At some point, craving a Kit-Kat, I found myself swaying in front of the vending machine at work, glaring at the one empty slot where my Kit-Kat should be, eyes glazed over from the mix of sleep deprivation, hypothermia, and sorrow over my missing chocolate.
Drats.
Another selection had to be made. My back up choice of Cheetos was also suspiciously out of stock, leading me to suspect that this was some sort of planned personal slight at me by either other employees, or the vending machine conglomerate as a whole. That might just be the lack of sleep talking though.
I stood, trying to figure out whether I should resort to my third choice, or just abandon my junk food quest altogether. My money was already in the machine and so I was already too invested to walk away. Pushing the coin return button seemed like work. Work without chocolate-y pay off. And that was unreasonable.
M&M's (the peaunut ones) and Reese's Pieces stood side by side behind the glass. Mocking my indecision.
I punched in my selection and wandered out to eat them in the sunshine, hoping to warm up just a little bit.
'My mother loved M&M's,' I thought again, as I popped my candies into my mouth. 'but Reese's Pieces are a million times better'. I laughed out loud in a way only the delirious and the very young do and crammed a fist full of candies into my mouth, making Pam's 'bear claws! *om-nom-nom-nom*' sounds, a-la Archer.
And that's pretty much how the whole day has gone.
Miss your face.
I'm also a huge m&m fan, but more importantly, we've discovered Kit Kat Senses, which is an amazing chocolate bar. This is an international Kit Kat bar that is chocolate hazelnut flavored, made by Nestle, so it's this magical Nutella + Kit Kat combination. We found it at our equivalent of Frys, we recommend it. Also, we tried Bikram last weekend, and we decided it was far too intense. We're probably going to take up jogging instead, but now we have at least tried it.
ReplyDeleteMust. Find. Nutella. Kit-Kat. This is the greatest thing anyone has ever notified me of...ever. EVER.
ReplyDeleteAwe, I'm so sorry you guys didn't fall in love with the sweaty yoga fun! Most people I take to bikram say the same thing, way too intense. I just adore it though. But in all fairness, I adore it because it is super intense. Plus I love the heat. It keeps me sane when everything in my life makes me crazy. ;)
Phil adores peanut butter anything. He's a child in so many ways--he eye fucks anything that looks untrustworthy, and while I can tell which things he won't want by looking at them, nothing comes to mind off the top of my head. Anyway, I sometimes find an unhealthy amount of candy wrappers stashed in places that look like something out of Bridget Jones' Diary--wedged between the bedframe, there'll be no less than 10 mini Goodbar wrappers. A lone Caramello cellophane.
ReplyDeleteCowtails are my vice. He buys them for me in large, large quantities. Like, by the box. They are in the glove compartment of either vehicle by the assload. Any time I open the glove box and they are not there, I gape at him until he realizes the error of his ways. Or I will gasp in delight when I open the primitive latch and they come spilling out like something Scrooge McDuck would get wood over. And Snowballs. But those aren't real anymore. There are only knock-offs. And I don't do knock-offs. I might do Goodwill, but I don't do knock-offs.
We were *literally* just talking about the color swap of the M&M's yesterday. Phil refused to believe they weren't always blue, and I refused to believe that he didn't suck paint as a kid. The tan ones seemed lazy, I thought as a kid. Why two fucking brown? But still, the blue seem contrived and almost unnecessary...too eager, perhaps.
Your poor mom. She's like Malificent-status supervillian, even in your fondest memories. Not that you depicted her in any such way...I just sense it in the terse way you recall her.
I'm being summoned. I must away, my love. Muhwah!