I am rarely lucky. Okay, I'm NEVER lucky. So when I open up a bag of Party Mix and find only one pretzel, I know the thrill will be quickly followed by a grand piano falling outta the sky onto my head. - XMASTIMEUtz' are the best of the party mix chips, if only because the other versions are mostly fucking pretzels.- XMASTIME
"You can survive your Office Crush seeing you walking around with one bag of Party Mix, but for god's sake boy, don't let her see you with TWO of them."- XMASTIME
THIS ARTICLE about Party Mix is making me mad nostalgic for my old Brooklyn neighborhood, particularly this sentence:
I’ve lived in the same New York City apartment for over 15 years, which means I have made [consults abacus] somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 billion trips to my corner bodega. Jorge’s Deli is practically an extension of my home. Everyone there calls me “boss,” except the one dude who calls me “big guy.” I call everyone “my friend.” They know they’ll keep the change, but they still offer it anyway.
That's exactly how things were at the bodega around the corner from 100 Metro was for my 14 1/2 years there. You'd get a bacon, egg & cheese on a roll, peruse the chips rack and settle on Party Mix for the variety, grab a Daily News and then spend the next 15 minutes cursing at the heavens over the amount of fucking pretzels in the goddam Party Mix bag.
Here's the bodega I must've visited over 2,500 times from 1998-2012.
I'm not an "only in New York, people, only in new York!" guy, but it's hard to describe to people just how much your nearby bodega is a art of your everyday life there. Yes, even if they sometimes fuck up your sandwich.
Anyhoo, here's my old gang, we used to rob bodegas. I miss these guys!
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