Hot Chocolate Pop-Tarts.
Along with one or two returning holiday flavors, Kellogg’s has blessed us with all-new Frosted Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Pop-Tarts, thereby increasing their streak of Pop-Tarts flavors with extremely long names to an impressive 267.
Okay, so they’re not as “showy” as Kellogg’s previous offerings, like Sugar Cookie Pop-Tarts or Gingerbread Pop-Tarts. They’re not as weird-in-a-good way, nor colorful, nor do they come with any bizarre recipes on the side panel. All true, but these Pop-Tarts have it where it counts:
They taste like hot chocolate.
I took that photo of them in their “plain” state, but you kinda do need to toast them. Even if you prefer your Pop-Tarts with no caloric upgrades, the heat has a way of bringing out their scent. Believe me, this is a scent you WANT brought out.
Like, picture the most classic cup of hot chocolate you can imagine. Now picture it five feet tall. Whatever you think that would smell like is pretty close to how these smell. If it’s possible to get high from the aroma of blistery Pop-Tarts, brother, I am so there.
While the pastry and its frosting cover the “chocolate” base, a core of bright goo handles the “marshmallows.” It’s like NASA figured out how to freeze-dry hot chocolate, only not really at all like that.
I don’t keep score of these things, but I’ll go out on a limb and proclaim that there’s never been a tastier Pop-Tart. I’ll also proclaim that no other Pop-Tart has ever looked so much like an army of mites swarming over Mars.
The Rule of Triples means I get one more proclamation, but I’ll save that for when it’ll really count.
Dino Drac’s Advent Calendar: 12/1/12.
The last thing I ever thought I’d tackle again is a Playmobil Advent Calendar, and in terms of a weird, winding story with an always-growing cast of characters, no, I won’t. In fact, I’ve intentionally shied away from even mentioning the AC, because while some folks liked that saga, it just isn’t something I’m interested in continuing on Dino Drac.
But, good God. LOOK AT THE THEME FOR THIS YEAR’S.
Your eyes don’t deceive you. It’s a DINOSAUR EXPEDITION Playmobil Advent Calendar. A Dinosaur Expedition Playmobil Advent Calendar, tossed in the line of sight of a Playmobil connoisseur who now runs a site NAMED AFTER A DINOSAUR.
Okay, so technically, it’s a 2011 model. But this is the first time I’m seeing it.
It had to be a sign. Of course I had to cover this. The difference is, I’ll be doing it in a very small way. No massive adventure. No connection to the previous story or characters. This has nothing to do with the past, and everything to do with DINOSAURS.
It works out perfectly, too. If you’ve been paying attention, you know that my December work schedule is awful. I mean, really awful. Dino Drac’s 1st Christmas season is going to be presented in bite-sized morsels, and I’ll need all the bite-sized morsels I can find.
Thus, without further ado, here’s the short-and-sweet first entry of Dinosaur Dracula’s 1st (and perhaps only) Advent Calendar.
It’s December 1st, and Playmobil didn’t skimp on the inaugural gift. He’s a Safari Man, and Dino Drac (the monster, not the site) couldn’t be happier about it.
Now he just has to decide if Safari Man will be “friend” or “food.”
More likely, Safari Man will be “friend, THEN food.” Dino Drac will enjoy playing tag with Safari Man for a few days, and then, when that gets boring, he’ll bite through his stomach and eat him guts-first. It’s what dinosaurs do, even when they’re part vampires.
If you count the invisible pair on his pants, Safari Man has eight pockets. His hair looks like the lovechild of a bat and a Pac-Man ghost. Without discernible fingers, his hands appear more like flippers.
“So! You’re a mutant!” In light of this discovery, Dino Drac grew hesitant to eat him. Surely some traveling sideshow would pay a pretty penny for a man with flippers. Especially after they heard Dino Drac’s sales pitch.
“Not only is he a mutant, but he has eight pockets. All this can be yours for three thousand dollars and a vial of camel’s blood. I’ll knock off five hundred if you use real camel’s blood and don’t try to trick me with like, pig’s blood. Don’t think I won’t know the difference.”
What will tomorrow bring?
Times Square’s Puffy Hustlers.
One nice thing about my current workload is the chance to see Times Square at its Christmassy finest. There are lights, trees and blaring Christmas music at every turn, and I’m always reminding myself to stop, look around and soak it all in. And then, when I do, someone bumps into me and calls me a fucker.
Christmastime has also brought out Times Square’s best-ever assortment of costumed hustlers. Half a dozen or more on every street corner, ready to trade Kodak moments for a dollar a pop!
I shouldn’t have to tell you that this isn’t entirely on the up and up. It’s not like Disney strategically placed Mickey and Minnie on the corner of 42nd and 7th in an effort to raise fifty bucks a day. Doesn’t bother me at all. Compared to how aggressive or downright nasty some of the area’s other hustlers can be, these costumed weirdos are a-okay. Read More…
BFCDAW #5: The Albino Ferret of Christmas.
I met the Albino Ferret of Christmas in 1986. One of my then-in-college brothers was home for the holidays, and with him were his two pet ferrets. Thinking back, I have no idea how he got away with dorm room ferrets, but kids never considered the particulars.
One looked like an everyday “normal” ferret, but the other had yellowy-white fur and fiery red eyes. He was the real star. The Albino Ferret of Christmas.
I was told in no uncertain terms to stay away from those ferrets, and my brother scared me more than enough to listen. (To give you some idea: One time, he dropped a glass in the kitchen. I made the mistake of walking into the room while performing a sarcastic golf clap. The results were disastrous. Ever have broken glass scraped across your eye? Trust me, you’re not missing much.)
But even a scary older brother couldn’t keep me away from those ferrets forever.
That Christmas Eve, when all of the adults were upstairs partying, I snuck into his makeshift bedroom for a closer look. The “normal” ferret was doing his thing, but if I only had a minute to be one with the ferrets, I wanted to spend it with the freaky yeti version.
I was young enough to consider those red eyes “frightening” at first, but lo and behold, the Albino Ferret of Christmas acted just like any other ferret. It wouldn’t let me pet its head through the cage bars, but it didn’t spit fire at me, either.
Since it was Christmas Eve, I couldn’t stay with the AF of C for long. Really, it was only for a moment. But I’ve remembered that moment for more than twenty years.
I guess albino ferrets just have a special kind of charisma?