What to blog about, what to blog about, what to blog about?!?! I KNOW!! I'll tell you a story. This is a true story about the day I discovered how wonderful & multi-purpose Hostess snacks were.
I was all of 21 years old, in college. I had a part time job at a gas station, owned by a company that in retrospect, was probably an offshoot of the Third Reich - "SS Express Lane". Boy, did that job suck ass. I did enjoy the people I met there though, like the regulars who came in, spent a couple hours in there drinking coffee and scratching lottery tickets. My favorite was known as "Slugger", a sweet older man who at one point won upwards of 6 figures playing the lottery. If he won $100 or more on a scratch off, he'd always give whoever was working $20, just for selling him the ticket. My story has nothing to do with him though, just a fond memory.
Anyhow, one night, I had to close. About 15 minutes before closing time, I mopped up the floor, finishing right as it was closing time. I went to the front, locked the doors and headed back to the register to close out my drawer. As I was walking back, I slipped on the wet floor and fell into a display rack full of food. Not just any food - Hostess snacks. Oh, what that spill must have looked like to an onlooker. I'm certain I fell in slow motion - sort of like taking the Nestea plunge, only with my arms and legs flailing while yelling "OH SHIT!"
I lay there for a second, unsure of what just happened. I was using a conglomeration of Twinkies, Cupcakes, Ding Dongs, SnoBalls and HoHo's as a pillow, when I noticed I was in a lot of pain. I looked down at my legs. There, sticking into my knee was a piece of the wire shelf that had broken when I fell. A closer look revealed that I was sitting on the face of the SnoBall girl - it may have been the closest I've come to actually being a lesbian.
On the floor under my knee - a Twinkie that had broken open during the fall soaking up the blood. Incedentally, Twinkies not only make great sponges for bodily fluids, but they can also be used to fashion a gorgeous wedding cake: 
I looked around again and realized that if it wasn't for the DingDongs, Cupcakes, Hohos and deliciously pink SnoBallls, I might have been super hurt. However, I had caused some serious damage to Captian Cupcake in the process, so I ate him.
I knew I needed to get up, but first, I had to get the shelf out of my knee. So, knowing it was going to hurt, I thought back to every movie I had seen. You gotta pull that sucker out and it's gonna hurtt, so you need to bite on a bullet - or something and I was fresh out of bullets. So, I did what any self-respecting college student would do while lying in a giant pile of delicious Hostess products - I opened a Twinkie, shoved it in my mouth and yanked out the shelf. OK, that's not completely true - I ATE the Twinkie, leaving the wire rack in my leg. I would like to see you try to resist that moist golden cake with Twinkie the Kid
on it, smiling at you as if to say "you know you want me!".
After finishing my snack, I just stood up, the rack fell out on it's own.
I looked down at my knee and there was blood everywhere and I couldn't bend my leg. Like a good little worker, I finished counting my drawer, cleaned up the Hostess mess, packed some of the more smashed not-salvageable ones in my backpack, and called my then-boyfriend (total fucking loser - UGH - what was I thinking?!?!) to come get me because I had a stick shift car and couldn't bend my leg to depress the clutch or anything. And then waited He was 45 minutes away. I was a LOT of pain and so I opened up a Ding Dong. I pondered why in certain parts of the country, they were not called Ding Dongs. I've heard them referred to as King Dons, which is totally gay, if you asked me. Then I began to wonder why they called them Ding Dongs. They certainly didn't look like a dong, at least none that I had ever seen. Anyhow, King Ding Dong would not approve of me discussing these things. He always has that look of disapproval on his face, sort of like my father.
I wound up with 8 stitches in my knee. I remember the doctor at the hospital told me that I was lucky there was something to break my fall and didn't hit my head. Thank-you Hostess for saving my life! HA!!
I left that job, not long after that. There was some brew-ha-ha because I had called in to work drunk on St. Patty's Day (it wasn't my fault they opened the bar at 3:00 AM and the DJ had the NERVE to play Blister in the Sun, which was our college drinking anthem!). Shortly after that, the assistant manager accused me of stealing lottery tickets (I wasn't) and I accused her of smoking crack in the back room (she was) and we all went our separate ways.
But since that day I have come to realize that I lived a dream that night when I fell. I was laying down, surrounded by snacky cakes that were free for the taking. If only I had been naked and they had been unwrapped, it truly would have been a dream come true! It probably wouldn't have lived up to my expectations had it happened that way, sort of like the time I took a bath in chocolate (another story for another time). Just know that you really don't want to do that one either. Stick with the Hostess products. That creamy-white lard filling is just what everyone needs to make their day! And you too, can be a happy ho ho.
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