[Ed. note: All week, I’ll be eating seasonal Valentine’s Day candy. Because Valentine’s candy is very much a Thing, but doesn’t always satisfy the traditional definition of a candy bar, this week I’m operating under this temporary definition: If it’s a sweet that can be attached to a valentine — either the kind you’d pass out and collect in decorated shoeboxes in 4th grade or the kind of a more mature and romantic nature — it’s a candy bar.]
We all know that Sweethearts don’t taste particularly good (they are, of course, related to Necco Wafers).
We know that they have messages on them. We also know that these messages are pretty dumb. (“Be mine” still perplexes me: It’s simultaneously passive and aggressive, but it’s not passive-aggressive. What the hell is that all about.)
With this knowledge, I figured it’d be fun to make some poems out of them.
I was wrong.
Most of the messages are just adjectives or commands, which are next to impossible to string together coherently into a sentence; my saccharine refrigerator poetry had no hope of crystallization.
But there’s still plenty of fun to be had with Sweethearts. Just look at them differently.
“First kiss” = Shittiest commemorative plaque ever
“Love Bug” = How the guy who played Alfalfa signed his thank-you notes after his 3rd grade birthday party.
“Soul Mate” = The new Australian-Cajun fusion restaurant in the West Loop
“Cutie Pie” = A summer dessert featuring candied clementines
“Let’s Kiss” = A terrible pickup line that just might work if you’re drunk enough
“Let’s read” = A terrible pickup line that just might work if you’re old enough
“Girl power” = I could probably make a joke about renewable energy but all I’m seeing is Spice Girls
“Hug me” = gosh. You poor guy.
…
Have you opened a box (or had a cupcake with one of these on top and then you bit it and realized it was all soft and weird) and have some to add? Add a comment! And like us on Facebook!
Breaking Off A Piece 