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Sites like this really shouldn’t waste as much of my time as they do. But, it’s just… the people…

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

I don’t remember if I actually put any money in the Rockola along the wall of the lunchroom of St. Albert Catholic High School circa 1995, but this morning I woke up with some very distinct memories of it…

Now look, people.

Do not make me explain this again.

This is an eyeball.

This is my eyeball cupcake. It does not have any eyeballs in it. If I tell you I am eating one of these, please do not call the police (again).

This is Robert Smith.

This is me as Robert Smith. I do not sing songs about the Spider Man. I am not in love on Fridays. I have never seen a lovecat.

Got it? Robert Smith:

Me as Robert Smith:

Thanks for letting me clear that up. If anyone else wants to ask me about Halloween, I’ll be in my room crying and listening to The Cure.

A buddy of mine went to jolly Eng-a-land and brought me back, as requested, edible souvenirs! Now I frequent the British candy stores in Edmonton whenever I can and have developed, for example, a serious, serious addiction to Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers, but he brought me some stuff that I’d vaguely heard of but never considered, you know, eating.

This was one of them. “A Flake bar?” I said aloud to my empty condo. “A ‘Flake’ bar? ‘Flake’? What the hell is it made out of, dandruff?”

In fact it is delicious milk chocolate that turns into strange splinters and shards in one’s mouth and vanishes instantly! Oh, those wacky Brits.

And these are Vin Diesel mints… either that, or you have to be over eighteen to eat them, I’m not sure. Anyway, I’ve survived rounds of super-sour Japanese candies and entire tins of Altoids, so I scoffed at the ‘super-strong’ claim on the wrapper.

Sorry there’s no scale here. Listen, these are big suckers. It’s about as tongue-stingingly minty as an Altoid, but rougher and huger and yes, it’s like having a burning icecube in your mouth. Seriously, I almost spit the first one out because my sinuses were starting to vibrate. Now I’m addicted to them and I’m nursing the rest of the tube because I don’t know when I’ll get my next fix!

This one was by far my favourite. I had seen the gaudily wrapped packages of Jaffa Cakes in the stores and dismissed them because my brain somehow went Jaffa = java = coffee-flavoured.

But there’s no coffee involved at all!

Aw yeah, that’s the good stuff. Dark chocolate and some kind of fragile processed cake and a layer of resistant, not-too-sweet orange jelly. The entire thing was wadded into my mouth like a Twinkie after the first bite that I took for the benefit of the photo. I could eat a crate of these things.

No more FruitSponge bars for me. All Jaffa all the time. MUST HAVE MORE. MOVING TO ENGLAND BRB.

Readers, got any favourite ‘foreign’ treats or sweets?

I recently discovered Manos: The Hands of Fate via a Mystery Science Theatre 3000 DVD I borrowed from the public library. After having endured the whole thing (thanks to the MST3K crew, bless their precious hearts), I would like to officially declare—in much the same way that news stations can declare election results before every vote is counted—that I’ve just seen the worst movie ever made.

Yes, yes, I’ve seen Plan 9 From Outer Space. This is worse. Much worse, I should say, since I consider Plan 9 to be quite entertaining.

The whole thing is available on YouTube, but I warn you, it is not the MST3K version. There is no witty commentary to carry you through the excruciatingly long countryside opening sequence; no one to quip at the out-of-focus, off-centred, and sloppily edited shots; nothing to dull the pain of the repetitive dialogue spouted by a dozen-or-so nightgown-clad, entranced brides.

I think the only way in which my life is not worse for having seen this film is that I now have my Halloween costume idea. I shall be Torgo.