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Twinkies on memory lane
Nov. 17th, 2012 01:00 amSo, I'm sure most everyone has heard the news by now. I was driving by a Hostess outlet...store... place today, by sheer chance, and I almost turned in and got a memorial twinkie.
I have a strange relationship with Hostess.
Meme was Dad's mother - a Southe'n Lady - at least that was the image she projected. I remember staying with her as a child, and those were always FUN weekends. She lived in a small 1 bedroom apartment in a complex for elderly folks (again, I think - as a little kid, many of these details escaped me). She'd often let me paint, and then we'd hang the results on her fridge, and she'd watch her soaps - I could never follow them, and didn't really try. I just sat there and enjoyed Teh Drama! She had a fascinating brown half shag half felt pillow that vibrated when you sat on it - I can only guess it was supposed to ease one sitting down or something - and I'd enjoy stealing it while we watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune - she was aces at that, especially Wheel. Even today when I watch that I get little flashes of that little apartment on the hill.
And we'd always take a trip down the hill - usually by car, since Meme loved her fried chicken and exercise was something reluctantly engaged in. We'd go down to the Hostess outlet, and she'd pick up some Wonderbread, and I'd get a small pack of something which was usually Twinkies.
It was - and last I knew, still is in that inevitable way of run down cheap corner stores that never evolve, never grow, and it's simply the bored faces cashing you through the lane that changes - a remarkably trashy place. I want to say it was incredibly ghetto, but I'm trying to be more PC than that.
Every other Hostess store I've gone by has the same industrial, ridiculous look to it. And I almost turned in to one here because I wanted to buy a Twinkie for Meme, who passed back in my freshman year of college - jeebus, that's back in 2000, maybe early 2001. It was the diet that got her - that fried chicken that she only got as a special treat, once a month, any time you asked her (no matter how often you asked her).
But let's be honest. That shit is BAD for you. So I'm going to write about it here, and pretend that Twinkies are delicious (....honestly, I dunno if I could even bring myself to eat one), and I'll raise a metaphorical one high to my grandmother.
But I think I'll be ok if twinkies are gone for good.
I have a strange relationship with Hostess.
Meme was Dad's mother - a Southe'n Lady - at least that was the image she projected. I remember staying with her as a child, and those were always FUN weekends. She lived in a small 1 bedroom apartment in a complex for elderly folks (again, I think - as a little kid, many of these details escaped me). She'd often let me paint, and then we'd hang the results on her fridge, and she'd watch her soaps - I could never follow them, and didn't really try. I just sat there and enjoyed Teh Drama! She had a fascinating brown half shag half felt pillow that vibrated when you sat on it - I can only guess it was supposed to ease one sitting down or something - and I'd enjoy stealing it while we watched Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune - she was aces at that, especially Wheel. Even today when I watch that I get little flashes of that little apartment on the hill.
And we'd always take a trip down the hill - usually by car, since Meme loved her fried chicken and exercise was something reluctantly engaged in. We'd go down to the Hostess outlet, and she'd pick up some Wonderbread, and I'd get a small pack of something which was usually Twinkies.
It was - and last I knew, still is in that inevitable way of run down cheap corner stores that never evolve, never grow, and it's simply the bored faces cashing you through the lane that changes - a remarkably trashy place. I want to say it was incredibly ghetto, but I'm trying to be more PC than that.
Every other Hostess store I've gone by has the same industrial, ridiculous look to it. And I almost turned in to one here because I wanted to buy a Twinkie for Meme, who passed back in my freshman year of college - jeebus, that's back in 2000, maybe early 2001. It was the diet that got her - that fried chicken that she only got as a special treat, once a month, any time you asked her (no matter how often you asked her).
But let's be honest. That shit is BAD for you. So I'm going to write about it here, and pretend that Twinkies are delicious (....honestly, I dunno if I could even bring myself to eat one), and I'll raise a metaphorical one high to my grandmother.
But I think I'll be ok if twinkies are gone for good.
