Tuesday, December 11

It Wasn't Hell, But There Were Sno-Balls

I have written previously about my frustrations in finding Hostess Sno-Balls in Tampa.

Well, Complementary Spouse Britt Shirley and I have discovered, at long last, where to find Sno-Balls. They're at a gas station in Hanceville, Ala., which is located about halfway between Birmingham and Huntsville. We stopped there to buy something to drink Friday night on our way to visit my mom.

Apparently, Sno-Balls are white now. I remember them being pink, like little Angora sweater snack cakes.

Britt and I purchased four packages of Sno-Balls, which delighted my Mom. We made them our Hanukkah treat Saturday night. Alas, they did not last eight nights.

Our festive Hanukkah Sno-Balls
Our festive Hanukkah Sno-Balls -- just like the Maccabees ate!

Hostess Sno-Balls
Are the Sno-Balls white because it's the holidays, or because we're in Alabama? Discuss.


Oh, one more thing: In my last post about Sno-Balls, I wrote that I had become so frustrated that I lashed out at Britt and shouted "Who do I have to fuck in this town to get a Sno-Ball?"

It turns out that geography, not sexual favors, were the issue.

But let me tell you this: based on the people I saw during my limited stay in Hanceville (the toothless cashier, the giant bearded man in overalls who probably is named Jasper or Cletus), I am now seriously rethinking how far I would go in my pursuit of a Sno-Ball.

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