Damn You Brach’s Candy Corns!!
- By Tracy Ames
- Published November 3, 2009
Tracy Ames
Mrs. Ames is an international bestselling author of interracial erotic fiction and a former columnist for several newsletters and magazines.
A native of the San Francisco Bay Area, Tracy currently split time between CT & New York City with her husband, children and a host of pets.
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This is truly sad. I have eaten an entire 11oz bag of Brach’s Candy Corns. Apparently, I have a problem. I can side-step all other candy except this one. I look for them year round and get seriously pissed when I can’t find them. I’m kinda weird in that way.
In my former life as a government spy, I kept a bowl of candy on my desk (Yes, I was the candy-bowl lady). I kept my little bowl stocked at all times with all sorts of goodies: nerds, sour gumballs, tootsie rolls, fireballs, now & laters, jolly ranchers, laffy taffy, even those hard ass jaw breakers that took your entire shift to finish.
People would stop by and rape and pillage my little treasure trove of bohemian confections without thought or care but I didn’t mind. Seemingly, I took pride in my bowl when in reality it was nothing more than a $2 whore. A decoy.
My real prize was hidden in my desk drawer in an air tight container guarded by a gratuitous amounts of staples, sticky notes and paper clips.
This was my reserve, our reserve, me and Sgt Andersen. Sgt Andersen was a tall dark handsome drink of water and one of my closest friends. He caught me hiding my candy corns one day so I had to bring him on board or kill him which was out of the question since he was taller than me and I’d require help hiding the body…which meant more blood would be spilt. It would have been a vicious cycle of blood and candy corns.
Anyway, I bring him in candy corn hideout and we share hours upon hours chatting, seriously, chatting about candy corns. Mind you, we’re not children; we’re adults who are licensed to carry semiautomatic weapon and your first line of defense against foreign invaders. Scared yet? You should be because it’s about to get worse.
We would exchange silly emails and voicemails throughout the day. One of my favourites was him singing “Jimmy candy corn and I don’t care. Jimmy candy corn and I don’t care!” My reply was “Dude that was so corny…Candy Corny that is!”
We kept this moronic shit up even when we were deployed, he to Afghanistan and me to Johnston Atoll. Even through Officers Training School he’d sneak me candy corn coded messages until he was granted a “town pass” and free to roam the streets. The first thing we did was hit Wal-Mart for candy corns! Not call his girlfriend…we went to Wal-Mart for candy corns!
To this day we still chat and somehow candy corns always come up. And no matter where we are in the world, we always send each other a bag of Brach's Candy Corns around Halloween…and I just ate my whole bag.
Thanks Ricky, see you next year! ~~~Tracy
In my former life as a government spy, I kept a bowl of candy on my desk (Yes, I was the candy-bowl lady). I kept my little bowl stocked at all times with all sorts of goodies: nerds, sour gumballs, tootsie rolls, fireballs, now & laters, jolly ranchers, laffy taffy, even those hard ass jaw breakers that took your entire shift to finish.
People would stop by and rape and pillage my little treasure trove of bohemian confections without thought or care but I didn’t mind. Seemingly, I took pride in my bowl when in reality it was nothing more than a $2 whore. A decoy.
My real prize was hidden in my desk drawer in an air tight container guarded by a gratuitous amounts of staples, sticky notes and paper clips.
This was my reserve, our reserve, me and Sgt Andersen. Sgt Andersen was a tall dark handsome drink of water and one of my closest friends. He caught me hiding my candy corns one day so I had to bring him on board or kill him which was out of the question since he was taller than me and I’d require help hiding the body…which meant more blood would be spilt. It would have been a vicious cycle of blood and candy corns.
Anyway, I bring him in candy corn hideout and we share hours upon hours chatting, seriously, chatting about candy corns. Mind you, we’re not children; we’re adults who are licensed to carry semiautomatic weapon and your first line of defense against foreign invaders. Scared yet? You should be because it’s about to get worse.
We would exchange silly emails and voicemails throughout the day. One of my favourites was him singing “Jimmy candy corn and I don’t care. Jimmy candy corn and I don’t care!” My reply was “Dude that was so corny…Candy Corny that is!”
We kept this moronic shit up even when we were deployed, he to Afghanistan and me to Johnston Atoll. Even through Officers Training School he’d sneak me candy corn coded messages until he was granted a “town pass” and free to roam the streets. The first thing we did was hit Wal-Mart for candy corns! Not call his girlfriend…we went to Wal-Mart for candy corns!
To this day we still chat and somehow candy corns always come up. And no matter where we are in the world, we always send each other a bag of Brach's Candy Corns around Halloween…and I just ate my whole bag.
Thanks Ricky, see you next year! ~~~Tracy
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10 Responses to "Damn You Brach’s Candy Corns!!" 
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 2:32:09 PM CDT
Tracy, you can have that nasty candy corn. BTW dots came out with some that I purchased for Halloween and they were the rave! People are still asking for them. If you can find them, they should be right up your alley.
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 2:57:05 PM CDT
Dots? Really! I'll have to tell Ricky. That might be our new thing. BTW, candy corns are slamming.
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 2:53:25 PM CDT
100% true except for the spy bit. I was a software developer. Ricky and I are like brother and sister. I love him so much. I was trying to finds some old pictures of us. I'll have to see if he still has them
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 3:50:10 PM CDT
Yes! I was THAT person. The only part that suck was when someone who didn't have proper clearance would come over to my desk, my screen would either black out or sink below the table. We had to wear badges with our level of security encoded. No security, no screen...:(
They had us sectioned off like animals. One wrong step over the red tape and my screen would disappear. You can imagine the fun we had. Going to lunch was like a game of "Red Rover"...go tax payer dollars!! |
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 5:34:33 PM CDT
I cannot stand Candy Corn. People have different taste i guess.
But i like the camaraderie between you and your friend Ricky, you don't hear stories like that anymore. Gumballs, Big League Chew and Salt Water Taffy !!! I can't live without. |
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 9:19:02 PM CDT
Heidi, you are my type of candy girl! Throw in War heads, Sour Patch Kids, or sour skittles and I'm your friend for life.
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 9:29:45 PM CDT
Rick is my ace! We have been through so much together. Love that guy. I like the sour gumballs and you can't go wrong with taffy
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said this on 03 Nov 2009 9:41:45 PM CDT
We have got one of the craziest blogs on the web. The sheer range of topics is freakin' over the map. Shoes, Kink, family, cakes, TMI, kids, candy...what the heck!? I love it!
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