I've always had a soft, squishy place in my heart for Hostess treats. Even though I didn't eat them that often, I knew that I loved them deeply. Today, Hostess died. They will no longer grace supermarket shelves with their neat little cellophane calorie pouches. I stumbled to the supermarket today after a bona-fide all-nighter to get all of the treats before they can't be gotten anymore. I figure that the best gift I could give to Hostess now is to let them give a gift to me. . .you know, the gift of cellulite.
Now I feel sick. With grief.
Go out and get a Twinkie while you still can.
And get as many as you can, because I hear they last indefinitely. . .
. . . it can be like they never left.