Snotcandy

I have a friend in California. He is a lawyer, a man who married a lovely, miniature woman whom he probably does not deserve. They have a young son who seems to be bright and happy. Recently, their family suffered a personal loss. My friend, like me, seems to know that humour is sometimes the best way to cope with heartache and loss. Because of this, I spent (wasted?) almost an hour last night fighting with him.

Over snotcandy.

You heard me.

Snotcandy.

This is the word he came up with to describe bacon-flavoured saltwater taffy. He allegedly procured some of this taffy last summer, and was going to send it to me. Then, he tasted it. He pronounced it to be awful, terrible, and many others words that might discourage me from wanting it. The best word was snotcandy.

I have maintained for almost a year that the alleged 'snotcandy' is actually delicious, and my friend ate it all. Then, to cover his taste tracks, he lied. He lied, lied, lied, lied, lied!

Then suddenly, last night, he posted a photo that is supposedly the box of snotcandy. I never saw any snotcandy, and we ended up arguing about the snotcandy for, as I said, almost an hour.

I laughed so much. I hope he laughed too. Sometimes, when life is hard, all you can do is laugh.

Because crying is an effort in futility.