Who was I kidding buying a giant bag of fun-size Snickers "for the kids"?
Wavering mid-aisle between putting the heaping helping of nougat-y delight back onto the shelf or into my basket, my rationale went something like this: come Sunday evening, droves of costumed crusaders will knock on my door expecting candy -- think of all the trick-or-treating Twilight vampires and mini Justin Biebers -- and for goodness sake, what kind of crotchety neighbor would I be if I didn't have Halloween goodies to fill pillowcases and pumpkin pails?
Truth is, I live in an apartment and I've seen approximately 1.5 kids since moving in a month ago (and the .5 is for the pregnant lady down the hall).
Six crumpled fun-size Snickers wrappers and a sugar high later, it's fairly evident that there were some gaping holes in my "rationale."
(And please tell me, you're just as creeped out by this commercial as I am? But not creeped out enough to stop gobbling Snickers. Obviously).