Sign of personal growth: I no longer have any desire to subject my body to the terrors of novelty Halloween Oreos, Candy Corn M&Ms, or anything of their ilk.
Let’s be clear about this, nerds: as I take my final steps along the road to middle age, I have in no way, shape, or form, forsaken the sweeter things in life. This is still me we’re talking about, and a macaron place just opened a few blocks away from my apartment. Know what I’ve been eating a lot lately? Fucking macarons. Plus, I have Biscoff toast for breakfast every weekend. And our freezer is never short on ice cream. Guys, the point is: I am a gross pig.
But! — and this is a big but, Sir Mix A Lot — if I’m going to eat that shit, I want it to be good. And by good I certainly don’t mean fancy; Ben and Jerrys is still my ice cream brand of choice. No, I simply mean I can’t subject my body to the pain and suffering of caramel apple Twix for your entertainment anymore. Growth! I’m all growed up!
That said, I will apparently still watch terrible horror movie sequels for the sake of blog material. Which, I should probably get back to that. That’ll be…fun.