So there’s a lot of candy out there. What makes a candy bar a candy bar?
Imagine this scenario: You’re at the grocery store with your mom. Or dad. Grandpa. Aunt. Someone who could sign a permission slip for you to go on a field trip.
And you do a great job.
You’re well-behaved, don’t get lost and generally allow said permission-slip-signer to accomplish the task of purchasing groceries.
You’re in the checkout lane, and you hear, “You know what, Andy? [Ed. note: I know that’s not your name.] You did such a great job today. Go pickyaself out a candy bar.”
You shriek and dart to the candy aisle/shelf/zone. After brief deliberation, you select your treat, bring it back to the cart and place it in gently (or not gently … it’s not important how recklessly you’re treating this candy bar but really, show some respect).
Did your mom let you keep it in the cart?
That’s a candy bar.
You have to be kidding.
Nope. And I’m not budging on that.
Is it in a single-serve bag? Candy bar.
Junior Mints? Sour Patch Kids?
Are they in a personal package?
No, like, theater-size boxes.
You don’t have a very discerning parental unit. Nope. Out the cart.
What if I picked a bag of Funyuns?
I’m pretty sure your mom told you to pick out a candy bar.
Also … Funyuns?
That stick is a dadgum candy bar.
I’m inclined to say yes, but that’s up for discussion. We’ll talk about it.
Any kid who chose Tic-Tacs is mature enough that they didn’t need to be rewarded with candy at the grocery store in the first place.
You didn’t answer me.
Get the f*** off of my blog.