McDonald’s Holiday Pie!
The McDonald’s Holiday Pie is BACK.
After hearing the news from my buddy Bill, I immediately ventured out to find them. The first McDonald’s was a bust. The second one was a Level 5 bust, because not only did they have zero Holiday Pies, but the guy manning the register acted like I was out of my freakin’ mind to ask.
“HOLIDAY PIE?! You don’t mean apple?? HOLIDAY PIE? HAS ANYONE IN THIS ENTIRE RESTAURANT HEARD OF A HOLIDAY PIE?!”
It was my own Golden Girls / black prophylactics moment.
It sucked.
But the third McDonald’s came through.
I had no reason to order five pies. “Five” just came out when I was at the drive-through.
I’m not always an anxious person, but I have my triggers. Sadly, they’re all impossibly weird triggers. Ordering food from a drive-through is one of them. Whenever I do, a big pile of mute jelly is suddenly driving my car.
I reasoned that ordering five Holiday Pies was somehow more normal than ordering one. It was the difference between them thinking, “Oh… he’s bringing a bunch of pies to a group of friends,” and, “Oh… he’s a fucking lunatic who waited twenty minutes for one stupid pie.”
I don’t get it. I’ve sold terrible concepts to rooms full of suit-wearing look-downy people, but I can’t order pie from McDonald’s without it turning into a Kathryn Bigelow film. Read More…
Sprite Cranberry Soda Review.
Uh oh – it looks like a new CRANBERRY SODA has entertered the arena!
I’m leaving “entered” misspelled because this was already a shitty opener.
There it is. Sprite Cranberry. Joining mainstays like Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash and Cranberry Canada Dry, Sprite Cranberry’s arrival involves a pretty severe overuse of the word “cranberry.” I mean jeez. Read More…
My 1993 Christmas Tiki Hut.
Hot damn, I finally found it. Photographic evidence of that weird thing I did back in junior high.
For several years, I used our family’s Christmas Eve party as an excuse to throw my own. Guests were encouraged away from the dinner table and into my bedroom, for a look at what I called THE CHRISTMAS TIKI HUT.
Basically, I transformed my bedroom (which by that point was a large room downstairs) into party central. A huge table at the back was covered with all sorts of store-bought snacks and drinks, plus goofy appetizers of my own design. (Uh oh.)
I was big into Tiki culture, owing to Archie McPhee and our one local Polynesian restaurant. Remember the bar from Goodfellas? This was my version of it. Christmas lights mixed with ceramic Tiki tumblers. An ambiance best described as “yard sale with food.”
This photo only tells part of the story. My entire bedroom was decorated for the occasion. You know those little Santa hats that they sell for pets? They were all over my action figures. And my God, the entertainment! Christmas movies playing all day long, and by “Christmas movies” I of course mean “Return of the Jedi.”
My family indulged me, not because they wanted to eat cheese that had been sitting out for sixteen hours, but because it was obviously so important to me. For a few years, I cared more about my Tiki Hut than any other Christmas-related thing.
The best part might have been the shopping. Every year, I’d beg someone to take me to Price Club, which was the precursor to Costco. Using money that couldn’t have been mine, I’d load up on jumbo-sized packages of snacks that only a thirteen-year-old psychopath would dream of serving for Christmas.
People nibbled, but most of the spread was still fully intact by the end of the night. Since much of that spread consisted of the same junk food I already lived on, I didn’t mind. During the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I was never anything but alarmingly bloated.
The Christmas Tiki Hut worked like a cocktail hour, or maybe a cocktail half an hour. Everyone would pile in. The adults would pretend to eat and drink. The children would actually eat and drink. Soon enough, they’d be back upstairs for the rest of the party. (I took no offense to how long anyone stayed, as long as everyone showed up.)
When I zoom into the stuff on that table, I’m surprised that they were so agreeable. Many of these foods would’ve been questionable even if they weren’t being served in a kid’s filthy bedroom. On Christmas Eve.
Let’s examine! Read More…
Christmas Crunch with Jingle Bell Rocks?!
I should be more excited about Christmas Crunch’s glorious return, but…
Ho ho hum. They didn’t redesign the box. It’s exactly the same as last year’s. And last year’s was exactly the same as 2011’s.
I’d buy Christmas Crunch even if they released it in plain paper bags, but there’s so much to be said for an annual redressing.
Quaker used to change the boxes almost every year. Even when they failed to top the previous design, you still had to appreciate the effort that went into making the same three bullet points seem new and exciting.
Hey, Quaker? It’s time to freshen things up. Look to your own history. You used to rock this shit!
For example, here’s Christmas Crunch as it appeared in 1998.
It’s simpler, but way more charming. The current box looks like a Target ad, but this one looks like some great old cartoon. (And I’d really, REALLY love to see a cartoon about Santa Claus spiking cereal with red boulders. My God… the things I would trade for a cartoon about Santa Claus spiking cereal with red boulders!)
And those boulders? That’s the other thing. Christmas Crunch used to come with all sorts of freebies and weird to-dos. Remember those cardboard tree ornaments from the ‘80s? Or how about the 1995 version, which came with packets of alien space frosting?
All Quaker has given us lately are coupons for DVDs we already own. I don’t need $3 off A Charlie Brown Christmas; I already have three copies.
In truth, I’m only blasting 2013’s Christmas Crunch for setup purposes. I guess I’m okay with the stupid repeated box. I mainly just wanted to gush about those weird red boulders from 1998! Read More…