While trying to figure out what to write for my blog this week, I was stumped. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to write about my hate-boner for The Walking Dead, but let’s be serious, yawwwwwwn.
So instead of writing my blog yesterday like I should’ve been, I decided to binge watch some Once Upon A Time season two episodes, because THAT’S HOW I DO. Actually my husband is out of town and not around to bother or distract me with dumb ass shit, because THAT’S HOW HE DO. So anyway, in the episode I was watching, one of the main characters, Emma Swan, brings her stupid kid (I mean, he is the worst – not quite Carl bad, but he is inching close to it) a POP TART to comfort him in his grief over the death of one of the characters (the human version of Jiminy Cricket, don’t even ask). Because when someone I love dies, you guys are now warned, you will need to give me ALL THE POP TARTS. Spoiler alert: he isn’t really dead, because god forbid we kill a main or supporting character on this show, even the worthless ones. But I digress. The spoiler alert maybe should’ve came a sentence or two earlier, oops.
Anyway, I took that as a sign. I thought, yes, I’m going to write a blog on my Pop Tart obsession. Yet, I wasn’t fully convinced. I had a lot of Once Upon A Time or OUAT (that’s what the “cool” kids i.e. me call it – I know, so dreadfully un-cool here. I would give myself a wedgie on the playground) to watch, so I did, and put off my blog some more. But then, the final sign that yes, this blog should be about Pop Tarts: I came into work today after being on vacay last week and found on my work chair…POP TARTS! Now let’s proceed to the main event: my obsession with Pop Tarts.
Now I wouldn’t say it’s like a real hard core obsession, but it’s up there with Googling images of Things riding Narwhals, Funny Sloths and Justin Bieber (What? Don’t judge. There’s some funny shit in there). I ate them as kids, the S’mores, Chocolate and Frosted Strawberry Pop Tarts were on heavy rotation in the casa de Gerard. As I got older, I stopped buying them as much as we did when I was a kid, but my love never died. The love did start to pull away from me, but then, it happened. I discovered the Pop Tarts website — thanks, Internet — and spent 20 minutes on there ogling all the new flavors that I didn’t even know existed. And I called myself a fan… Failure.
I noticed last winter, to be exact, the new hot chocolate flavor. I must have it, I thought, and have it I did. I mean, it was a search. Fun fact: If you want the new fun tarts, go to Target, not a grocery store. Target never fails … unlike that loser Baker’s. I bought it and instantly remembered, Wow, Pop Tarts kind of suck, but I still love them. Though there was no taste of hot chocolate that I could really identify, it sparked something in me … a new obsession, and from there on out I was always on the look out for new Tarts to try.
Disclaimer: I refuse to try the red velvet Tarts, because I think red velvet in general is overrated and not that interesting. So hate away, haters.
From there, the next big Pop Tart conquest was the peanut butter Tarts. Two kinds of peanut butter Tarts for my taste buds to love (or hate)! I tried them both, and was so in love — actually they are pretty decent as far as Pop Tarts go (I know the standard isn’t that high, but still) — that I decided I must let them know. But how would I do such? A lovely email to customer service? No, that was too old school. A post on their Facebook page? Nope, apparently you can only respond to shit they post. How was I to shine with that option? Finally, I got it! I shall tweet at them until they tweet back.
Thus began phase two of the obsession: Tweet harassing Pop Tarts until they break. It started simple enough with a nice yet sarcastic tweet at them about those peanut butter Tarts. They favorited it, but never retweeted or replied. That got me heated. They respond to Rick’s tweet that says, “Pop Tarts Rock!” but not mine?! Oh hell no… Now it’s on.
For an entire day I tweeted ridiculousness at Pop Tarts (@PopTarts411 if you feel the urge). At one point, I was pretty sure they blocked me. Hahahahahashutup. Anyway, defeated, I moved onto other things.
Then that weekend or week (who really understand how time works?), I went at it again. This time I decided to tweet them Pop Tart flavor ideas. I mean Rice Krispie Treat Pop Tarts, OH COME ON! My only stipulation would be they pay me in Tarts for the rest of my life, and as I plan to live to 120, they best start planning now. Still I heard nothing.
Days later, I was at it again. Taking the cue from the mega successful peanut butter Tarts I decided maybe a scotcheroo Tart would be better suited. Again, NOTHING.
Then another night I had some drinks and heard that someone years ago wrote Pop Tarts saying they should invent a double stuffed Tart. BRILLIANT, I SAY. So I tweeted it to them, naturally. Radio silence, y’all.
Defeated, I gave it one final go: PUMPKIN PIE Tarts. I called them out for not coming up with that flavor, but lo and behold, they issued a sloth-claw-Bieber-slap (That’s this sweet combat move I made up. If you ask, I will show you sometime. It is tight, son!) on my ass. Apparently, they do have that flavor and they put it out in the Fall. Well, well, well… I searched, nothing. Could not find it. Thankfully, my co-worker’s wife is basically the Pop Tart whisperer and finds us these novelty items, and the pumpkin Tarts were finally mine! Side: They are terrible. End side.
So that is my obsession with Pop Tarts. I still must buy every new flavor they produce, but I’m for sure way more into tweet harassing them. One day they will block me, but until then…as the annoying band FUN says, carry on.
P.S. My husband sent me a text the other day while out on tour saying he was at a bar that served POP TARTS! Coincidence? I think not.
Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.