Thanks, sis! Meg and Dee went to Art Chicago last week and sent me some digital missives of the complex carbohydrates they thought would really REACH me.

“Heyyyy! Welcome to DR!”

Ugh. I miss Steak ‘n’ Shake.

Life’s eternal questions, embodied just as they should be in Wonka-bar form.

Here’s a still life featuring butter (a.k.a. my life).

These cupcakes actually do look dangerous. Did the icing factory run out of color OR WHAT?

Says Meg: “yes - those balloons are attached to that girls hair… hehe”

Dee Barrett, who was consulted for permission to post these photos merely as a courtesy (because I was going to post them anyway), gave the OK:

NO PROBLEMS HERE.

And in the spirit of indulgence….indulge me and watch these!

May 2, 2008 — ‘DWTS Talk’: Bye bye, Shannequin
May 5, 2008 — ‘Survivor Talk’ cameo! I’m a medic. Of course.

Even though me updating my blog does NOT seem familiar at this point…

I got around to watching Sunday’s Family Guy and realized with glee that Peter and the boys’ Quahog Men’s Club was a clear homage to the clubhouse in The Berenstain Bears’ No Girls Allowed. At one point Peter even said “No girls allowed.” Get it?

Yay!

My favorite BB book, though, is obvs The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food. I loved how the candy they ate had no labels and came in clear plastic cases, like drugs. And would you look at the height Brother Bear is getting on his candy pour? Totally impressive. The supermarket scene (not pictured, though I would really like to do a page-by-page commentary on this book so I should find a copy) is also killer. Did you guys know I love edible crap?

Of course, the morning after I cleaned my desk at work, my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup bowl turned up broken. It fell from its usual perch on top of the cube divider all the time, but usually onto the carpeted floor or the typical mountain of crap (featuring fabric) on the desk itself. This time it must have just hit the deck with no cushion. To sum up, this accident was 2,000,000 times less shocking than the fact that I cleaned.

I did appreciate how whoever broke it made sure to scoop the Swedish Fish the bowl had contained into two neat piles. Doesn’t this display just scream “Sorry!”

Or “Sorry, crazy bitch who had it coming!”?

Here was the RB in its former glory, taking a breather in between candy refills on my desk. My boyfriend the animatronic Elvis and I had a huge fight that day. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. Not that I, wearing shades at work, made it very easy to do so.

DR readers are perhaps the only Peeps (R) who will truly appreciate the inclusion of my board game “Eat It!” in this weekend’s Take 5.

Right.

This new show called “Take 5″ debuted today on EW.com! Watch for the banana-flavored Reese’s and latent reference to Dee Barrett. Who am I kidding?

I’m “entertaining” people this weekend — I gotta go make a 72-hour playlist. Why wouldn’t I do that?

What’s this?

Hmmm.

Maybe it will help to get some “perspective” on the sitch.

Nice.

I was really thrilled that my new carton of Baskin Robbins Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream did this little sampler-scoop-right-in-the-lid trick. The first few bites are conveniently right there for you, in a smaller container so you don’t feel like such a hoss. You can easily ignore the fact that there’s a gaping hole the exact shape of the lid portion in the main cargo space of the carton, because it’s fun to pretend you’re a really light eater if only for seven seconds.

Eating the bonus (except not) lid portion is like asking to try a flavor at the ice cream counter, except there is a larger quantity to taste, AND, either way, you’re not going home with less than a whole carton of ice cream. You already are home and have purchased a carton of ice cream you know you like. It’s so much more fun for everyone involved, which probably amounts to Just You.

P.S. Whenever I ask to sample an ice cream flavor in a store, I already know I like the flavor. I like it THAT MUCH. I’m thrifty and cool.

I totally “did” this Entenmann’s chocolate cake. Looks a lot different now!

I thought the glass of milk visible through the window was “artistic” until I realized the “glass” was a Solo cup, and the “window” a pane of greasy plastic.

It’s weird that I prefer eating these cakes in bite-size horizontal rows, and yet I enjoy attacking another DR fave — corn on the cob — in a vertical-rows, pencil-sharpening-esque method. Seems like it should be the other way around.

Livin’ large!

Apparently, until the end of July? What? Just because of The Simpsons movie? ANNOYING. It’s not that I have anything against The Simpsons. I’m just really, really into Slurpees. It’s a matter of vocab. I do not care for this.

While in the midwest, I visited probably 15 different 7-Elevens, happily selecting the Coke or Pepsi flavors for my whole cup… of SLURPEE. But the last store, on Friday, had Mountain Dew AND Coke, or what I like to call The Bifecta. This means I got to crank both flavors out in spurts to create a zebra effect. Not a crazy amount of layers. Six at the most. Anything more than six is overkill, unless you opt for the giant cup.

I was thrilled. This is me being thrilled.

You should see me when I’m ecstatic.

Note that I attach the plastic top before pulling the lever, so that the SLURPEE molds itself into a perfect dome, no hassles. It pisses me off when people don’t know how or just don’t remember to do this. But then I quickly get over it, because other people’s ineptitude ends up making me feel superior, which is always great!

Also, check out what the security cam picked up:

Soooooo embarrassing.

I spent the week in Illinois. You know what that means!

Here’s another rare find along Chicago’s Interstate 55. This highway sure does have a highly developed sense of humor. (One of its other features, a subliminal advertisement for California Pizza Kitchen, has playfully toyed with my heart since I was wee.)

I think I swerved across three lanes while attempting that photo, thus ironically increasing my chances of “getting plowed.” This site is so gonna come up on google searches for “getting plowed”. Ugh. Yes!

Then there’s this:

The Interstate 294 shot I always wanted to remember to take and now I have. I rule! It’s an Entenmann’s FACTORY! I’ve always missed it because it pops up right before O’Hare and I’m always busy rummaging through my candy stash for the flight or realizing I left my passport in a different car or something. I’d usually make some sort of exasperated sound, like “Enhhhh!” to which my concerned parents would be like “What?!” And then I’d keep silent, because “I just missed taking a f—ing photo of the Entenmann’s factory — AGAIN” isn’t exactly how I like to be remembered, post-visit.

Kidding! Look, mom and dad! Entenmann’s factory! Remember me?

Dee bought these awesome Cadbury Buttons while we were on vacation at Christmas. Everybody loves buttons, and I am always quick to go with the crowd, so I knew these would be a hit with me. Just look at this kickass wrapper with an enormous cartoon button on it. Gaze adoringly at the bubble-like notches. Awwww!

But look:

NO NOTCHES.

These are not buttons! These are coins. But since they’re not worth anything, they’re actually most like the small, silver, coin-like discs of the same size that my sister and I used to “collect” while roaming around our dad’s unfinished construction projects. I don’t know what these things were or what they fell out of, but every time we went with Bill to “check the jobs,” there would be a fresh smattering of worthless silver coins in every room. Maybe the workers left them there to toy with us. I believe Meg and I would compete to see who could find more “money,” until we got sick of it and started tearing up large swatches of cotton candy-like pink insulation instead. Yes, the chemically poisonous kind. Ah, childhood.

Back to candy. Once you wipe the tears away from the false-advertising setup, the Cadbury Buttons are seriously amazing. The slight curvature on the top lends to some terrific mouth-melting, and January 23rd is by no means too soon to begin raving about the distinct chocolatey/oddly fruity (at the end) taste only America’s favorite vaguely British Eastertime import can provide.

But still. I call bullshit!

Whether I’m being extra cheesy, extra self-reflective, or extra awesome by posting a picture of the Magic Hat #9 bottlecap I just dropped on the floor, I don’t really care.* Happy 2007.

*I totally care, otherwise I wouldn’t post it on my blog. Or… have a blog.

(That’s an old, scratchy saucepan, for those of you wondering! Were you wondering? I thought it was so cool. I think I am so cool.)

What to eat now… Bag of Doritos or giant Twix my mom, Dee, stuffed into my suitcase?

I have more to say about Doritos tomorrow, which doesn’t mean I chose them.

I chose them.

Psych! I chose both.

Mouth-swishing (Magic Hat + Twix) = highly recommended.

It’s a very good place to start.

Last night I tuned into Prison Break to see what all the fuss was about, even though I knew already (Wentworth Miller). But here are some photos I took of my TV screen — yeah, I’m totally back to that again — of a character not played by Wentworth Miller tearing into a bag of Cheetos with his teeth and then having a snack:

…

Check out this fun photo gallery of EW.com’s TV Crushes. Mine was Nate Fisher (Peter Krause) from Six Feet Under, which anyone who knows me already knows because Peter is the only famous person besides the Beatles I’ve ever hung up on a wall.

You know what really grinds my gears? Commuters.

It’s about time we discussed a very important part of Summer Eating: Appies.

That’s appetizers in Barrett-speak. It’s a synonym of rushies, because people apparently eat them in a rush. I don’t. I prefer to savor.

Below is a typical August appies array in New Buffalo, MI:

It’s nothing special. Just chips and dip. Many food snobs might refuse to call such simple fare “appetizers.” I think that’s lame. If something comes before the main meal, it goes on the table, and people get a serious kick out of eating it, it’s an appie. No question.

On the surface, everything seems fine about the spread above. Four kinds of chip and three dips — what could be better? No problem! Everyone’s happy. When facing off against twelve possible chip/dip combos, people generally tend to choose a favorite pairing and stick with it, which I think is bogus. If Dee Barrett bothered to put out seven separate troughs, I’m going to lap up the scraps from all of them.

But then there’s a problem: You lose yourself in one conversation or three bloody marys, and suddenly you stick a sweet potato Terra Chip into chili con queso and then pummel the two of those into your mouth, which was conveniently just hanging wide open.

WRONG!

DR’s advice: prepare a site map of the appies array in your head:

Neon green is a match! Pomegranate red means stop. Most of these you can determine based on common sense, but if you need to sample, by all means, do it. After all, you deserve the biggest portion of each bowl simply by being the wonderful you, phenomenally.

(File under “Things I Tell Myself in Michigan”)

Believe me, I could do it in one.

By the way, these things are amazing. I just wish the word “chunk” appeared somewhere in the description. Brownies, cookies, and ice cream are always better if they give good chunk. It really breaks up the monotony.

I’ve been sitting here obsessing about the concept of chunk for 20 minutes now. It’s also just a great word.

Speaking of 7-11, I should probably post Summer 2006’s “Still Obsessed with 7-Eleven” pic. There I am in early June, attractively posing in an elevator with a taquito and a Big Gulp. I don’t know why more people don’t leave comments on my blog that say “You are too classy, Annie Barrett!” That’s all I want, in addition to the chips, Slurpees, and processed pastry products that made up my diet for most of June. I made it “my thing.” I’d only eat at 7-Eleven. I thought I was being thrifty and humorous. I bragged about it to everyone who would listen. Pay attention to me! I’m so wacky, eating only foods from a convenience store. I’m killing myself! It’s hilarious!

This was Summer 2005’s “Still Obsessed…” shot. I’m glad I’ve been using these “transition” years in New York City to blossom into a fabulous five-year-old who can’t manage to take a picture involving snacks (or iconography suggestive of snacks) that doesn’t call to mind the sound, “Wheeeeee!”

Next year I won’t deign to pose for the pic. I’ll get someone else to do it, then Photoshop my goofy mug onto him or her. It’ll look the same anyway.

This summer alone, I’ve eaten my way through what I estimate to be around 30% of 7-Eleven’s merchandise. I don’t mean total sales, I mean total selection. I’ve picked up at least one of 30% of the items for sale, every single one of which has been heavily processed and encased in a wrapper.

My two loves, together at last: behold the Entenmann’s display at 7-Eleven. Who is sleeping with whom here? Corporate Bear, have you been matchmaking again? These shelves take up easily 20% of the tiny store. Obviously, I can’t complain. It’s just funny.

Also: what’s with Entenmann’s getting all snacky on us lately? It used to be huge displays of the “committment pastries” like entire cakes and danishes. Now, after Entenmann’s’ apparent merger with the 7-Eleven corporation, it’s all about the quick fix. I love me a snack, but I prefer Entenmann’s boxed items to their wrapped ones. I don’t want a crappy single serving of a “Honeybun.” Give me a banana crunch chocolate chip cake, served in an expansive box that contains enough wiggle room for the fork I’ll be leaving in there all week. (No sense in washing it if I’m working on a bite-to-bite basis.)

Hip Tip for the day: Entenmann’s chocolate frosted donuts taste even more amazing…. refrigerated.

Ted Allen would probably murder me if he knew I just used his trademark “Hip Tips” segment to promote processed foods.

Now this site’ll come up when people Google search Ted Allen! Ted Allen Ted Allen Ted Allen. Ha! Does anyone Google Ted Allen? I would. I would google Ted Allen.

My roommate (Poor Leno) decided to deviate from his strict diet of cold porridge and frost in favor of:

Just don’t do what I just did: heat it up the next night and expect the Fritos or your microwave to survive. I put the mixture in, power-slid down the gigantic hallway in my socks (so much better than walking), and when I came back 40 seconds later it sounded like there was an industrial strength mosquito zapper somewhere in the kitchen. Where could it be? Maybe it was that thing on the counter being forced against its will to sizzle my corn chips.

I should have known. Cooking? Fritos? You a nut, Annie Barrett!

“Sizzle My Corn Chips” sounds pretty hot. I may start saying this regularly.

Yes! Dee just sent a box containing three Reese’s Eggs. (I don’t see what would have been wrong with four.)

I’ve been meaning to do a thorough comparison of all of the Reese’s holiday variations on the traditional Cup. I now have an Egg, a Heart, and a Tree (I think the tree is from 2004, ew), so I just need to wait until this October so I can pick up the Pumpkin. There’ll be a photo shoot and everything. (Tyra Banks voiceover: “Come on, Tree, I wanna see fierce! Show me your wild side. Show me who Tree really is.”)

Right now, the Egg is my favorite. I suppose the Egg is my favorite right now because it’s what I’m eating… right now. That has to be a conflict of interest. A huge chunk of it is literally melting on my tonuge. My lazy teeth have sort of sunk into the top of it, but I’m just going to go with it. It’s heavenly.

Here’s photographic evidence of how heavenly I think the Egg is. Before eating, I placed it right at the most important area of my apartment (the trackpad), and the flash has produced an eerie, almost outer-space effect. The Egg is like that wondrous black monolith in the move 2001: A Space Odyssey. (Roll over the pic for a visual.)

But I think I’ve always actually favored the Egg. It’s the closest in shape to the original Cup, and yet due to its impressive surface area, you feel like you’re getting a ton more out of it than you do during a usual Cup experience. So size alone matters, and then there’s also the element of shape/contour. This may sound blasphemous to Reese’s purists, but I actually prefer the holiday Reese’s over the Reese’s Cups* because I’m not totally wowed by the crinkled edges on the Cups. If anything, I find them slightly burdensome. All those sharp angles make for a somewhat jarring job for the teeth and tongue. The pointy sections don’t melt on their own very quickly, like the peanut buttery part does. You have to break all those ridges up with your teeth. It’s not like I don’t have the time for it (this post serves as evidence to the contrary) but why should I have to go through the routine if there’s a specialty Shape around? The Shapes, on the other hand, have smooth and softer edges. Bites of Shapes are already at a near-perfect consistency right when they enter the endless black hole that is Annie Barrett’s human mouth. The procedure ends up being so seamless. Sometimes I finish an Egg and think, “That was nothing. I think I’ll have another. If only Dee had sent four.” Then I cry.

This is why there need to be more occasions throughout the year to which the Reese’s corporation responds by manufacturing seasonal shapes. That way, we’ll always have the option of Cup vs. Shape. Fans of either genre will be constantly happy!

Timely example: I’m not one of those people who get obsessed with St. Patrick’s Day, but I certainly wouldn’t kick a Reese’s Four Leaf Clover to the curb right now if one knocked on my door. I could definitely have more fun with one of those than I could with a beer.

They could also have a default Reese’s per month, just in case there’s no major holiday in sight. Here are some ideas:

January: Snowman

February: Snowwoman (extra hair = extra Reese’s)

November: Turkey OR Indian Feather (Is that racist? Go with it. Or add Pilgrim Belt Buckle to even it out.)

December: Me (it’s my birthday, plus I harbor a secret fantasy about being sculpted into a Reese’s) Fine, or a Dreidel.

Despite my obsession with the Shapes, I’ll still be forever impressed by the Cup. If not for the Cup, the Egg would never be. And there you have your answer to the rhetorical quandary posited in this (possibly regrettable) post’s title.

What’s your dream Reese’s shape?!

*I wanted to put that declaration in bold orange with an asterisk because I feel so strongly about this. It is one of my strongest opinions about anything.

I need this (right) in my life right now. In the commercial for it, a guy eats one while driving a convertible. Convertibles are impressive and cool, which means so will I be when I rip into one of these on the street. I call it “Big Mess of Crap from Taco Bell” but a simple Google search will tell you it’s actually the Crunchwrap Supreme and that it has returned due to popular demand.

Check out Crunchwrap Supreme’s Diary for proof. Two questions: 1) How did I miss this the first time? 2) Who is in charge of hiring people to write blurbs in the voice of the Crunchwrap Supreme? That needs to be my new job.

Loyal readers such as my parents and that’s about it will remember my aversion to liquid cheese (LC) and wonder, “Annie, why would you or your really popular website endorse a product filled with ‘’Warm Nacho Cheese Sauce?'’ This is a good question, and to be honest the idea of WNCS still definitely freaks me out. But the WNCS constitutes such a small percentage of the Crunchwrap that its existence is mildly acceptable. (After I actually eat one, the WNCS’s rating will likely jump from “mildly acceptable” to “so very necessary” because I’m a traitor like that.) As evidenced by the animated text pockets on Taco Bell’s website, there is so much else the Crunchwrap Supreme has to offer, like “Seasoned Beef,” “Cool Sour Cream,” and every health nut’s favorite, “Fresh Lettuce and Tomatoes.” Health nuts will love the Crunchwrap Supreme!!!

Mine all-time fave Taco Bell item is the Mexican Pizza, which I also call “Big Mess of Crap from Taco Bell.”

Does anyone remember a cookie manufactured during the ’80s called Giggles? I asked Dee last month but she didn’t know what I was talking about. Look, Dee! I loved these cookies and thought they were both adorable and my special friends when I was really little. I’d carry them around in the box and occasionally eat one, but there were about six different varieties of faces in the box so I’d be sure to leave one of each face in the box. Then I’d lay them all out on the counter and study them quizzically, trying to decide which one I liked the least and therefore deserved to be the first casualty of my final round. I did this until all that was left were crumbs. < --- Kind of Cute or Sick and Pathological? You make the call. I already know my vote.

Besides, it’s not like I walked around giggling like that doofus in the commercial. I wonder if he turned out screwed up. That was insane. Rather, I was very methodical about the whole process. It was almost as if carrying around the box of Giggles was my full-time job for that day. I was so intent on executing the job correctly and fairly. Wow, my professionalism shone through at such a young age. I wonder what happened to it.