During a quick run to the deli for coffee and kitty litter, I spotted a sign at the dollar store: "HAPPY EASTER." That means it's Peep season. Even better, that means it's "guess the brand name of the cut-rate Peep knockoff the dollar store will actually carry" season. "Popes"? "Meeps"? "Chirpz"?
What I forgot, as I do every year, is that in order to get to Easter-candy-and-stale-extruded-marshmallow season, we all have to survive the mercifully brief but still thoroughly repulsive St.-Pat's-novelty season. I didn't forget for long, alas, because right by the register at the deli is a primitive altar of green Sno Balls, on which I promptly sacrificed my excitement about speckled-egg malt balls. …Oh, I beg your pardon: the Hostess Corporation would like us to call the green Sno Balls "Lucky Puffs." Apparently, each different color of holiday-themed Sno Ball has a special name: Scary Cakes (the orange Halloween ones); Glo Balls, which glow in the dark, which the regulation cerise Sno Ball kind of already does, but okay; and springtime's lavender Sno Ball, the Hopper, whose name I assume derives from the Easter bunny, but it's much more enjoyable if you use the Wire definition.
It's not as bad as the Shamrock Shake, but the two products share that watery-pale institutional green that implies all sorts of negatives, like Thorazine or nausea, or a valance/tunic worn by Dorothy Zbornak. I don't dispute St. Patrick's Day's right to offer a complement of superfluous themed snacks; I just wish the theme's color weren't so reminiscent of illness and frump.
Tags: food St. Patrick's Day The Wire unmourned odors of childhood