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Here's one more way to divide the world up: Those who love Peeps and
those who can't stand them.
Put me in the second camp. Solidly.
(If you've been living under a bridge in a box
for the past 30 years and don't know what Peeps are, Google "marshmallow
peeps". It's not only a
candy, it's a social
movement.)
Anyway, in my highly-esteemed opinion, peeps
are ass. That's right, ass. Purple Peep rabbits, yellow Peep eggs, pink
Peep chicks, whatever. Ugh. You pop one in your
mouth and it feels like your chewing on someone's gall bladder (not that
I've munched on that many gall bladders before). They're just puffy
globs of sugar with zero flavor. I hate 'em.
Yet some people just go nuts over them. Inexplicably. Over the weekend,
Matt's wife Jessica and I were chatting about the bad ol' days at CVS
(she used to work there with me) and about how crazy-busy CVS was around
Eastertime. And, of course, the subject of Easter candy came up and, of
course, she began gushing over her all-time favorite Easter candy ever.
Goddamn Peeps.
The reason I'm bringing up this whole Peeps thing is because I cooked
Easter dinner last night and we had brown sugar and apple ham, steamed
broccoli, scalloped potatoes, a couple of bottles of wine, and...Peeps.
But not the normal ready-to-eat Peeps. Instead, Beth bought a
decorate-your-own-Peep kit complete with six plain white Peep eggs and a
tube of some sort of cake decorating gel ("Wow, it was only $1.99," Beth
proclaimed proudly). Well, being the trooper that I am, I dutifully took
my three eggs and squeezed out my little designs: one squiggly egg, one
happy face egg, and...one egg heaped with cake decorating gel (I almost
used up the whole tube on that last egg). And then, still being in
trooper mode, I popped the Heaping Gel Egg in my mouth...
Bleah. Gall bladder.
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2000-2006