Because it doesn’t involve the phrases: “Can you tell me a little bit about your assignment?” or “So, what, exactly was your thesis statement?,”* I thought I’d share another story from my holiday volunteer hours**. And in telling it, I’m hoping to uncover whether or not I come out well in the end***.
But before I can move forward, I have to give you a little background. I live in the town that lays claim to the honor of being the home of the marshmallow Peep. This is sort of a big deal. Such a big deal, in fact, that almost immediately after Christmas celebrations switch from the holly and jolly to the yellow and sticky.
I’m not even being sarcastic when I say that I’m full-on jazzed about it. For reals. There’s a diorama competition. If you did not just shit your pants, you have no sense of joy. The world you live in must be a cold, dark place.
So, anyway, while I was working at the Information Desk last Friday, a similarly amused-by-all-the-candy-celebrating patron decided to test the knowledge of the assembled volunteers and staff members. And, with her question, “Have you ever heard of Peeps Deathmatch?,” I bet she thought she had us against the wall. But she didn’t know who she was dealing with. Because you know who has two thumbs and knows how to misuse a microwave? This girl.
If you don’t know what she was asking about here’s an educational video:
It’s been tempting, but I’ve never actually tried this at home. I’m reluctant — for obvious cleaning and mallow burn-related reasons — to use my own microwave. And while I know my brother**** would totally be into it, the fact that my mother’s mom-dar still kicks in when both of her children are in the same room and being too quiet keeps us out of the Peeps and toothpick-racing game. Especially since this particular activity involves several Pat “nos” including, but not limited to: unnecessary messes, the casual misuse of appliances, and the possibility of fire.
Lesson learned: Never go toe-to-toe with me in a pop culture war when Peeps are on the line.
And a quick note: A much more clever way to ask about the whole thing would have been to inquire as to whether or not the festival included a bank of public microwaves and unlimited toothpicks for individual Peeps jousting tournaments. Amateur.
* If you’d like to send me right over the edge, answer my thesis statement question with a question: “I guess I’m arguing blah demonstrates blah about blahness and that’s important because of America, right?” Like I know how your brain works. Oh wait, I do. Because I’m a magical writing elf.
** As I’m writing this, my 2:30 tutoring appointment is standing me up. Because that’s a considerate thing to do. But then again, I get paid either way. What’s more annoying, actually, is that someone is blasting Flo Rida’s “Club Can’t Handle Me” (running favorite, work nightmare) in the room below me.
*** I’m going to go ahead and guess that I won’t.
**** Long-time microwave fan.