The BLoG MuSe

Better than anti-depressants! … Sort of.

Crack Cookies

UPDATED: I’m not sure I should admit this. Actually I know I shouldn’t… But I’m going to because I tell on myself all the time anyway. I went to the grocery store like usual the other day to get two things: Cheese and Bread. Which actually means I went for three things right? Cheese, Bread, more Lofthouse Cookies.  So I get there, grab my bread, cheese and then…. *GASP* Oh.my.God.  They have no frosted, sugary pillows of goodness. NOOOOOO!!! This can’t be. I walk around the store for a while looking lost. Which apparently means that each and every Sprouts employee must ask me if I need help. OF COURSE I NEED HELP!! HELLLLLO??? Don’t you have my cookies? Not only do they not know what the hell I’m talking about they try to sell me some other cookies that are not NOT NOT NOT the same. Look. I’m on a mish here and I only want my Lofthouse cookies and if you can’t provide those then get me someone who can!!! UGH. Needless to say, my 5 minute quick-stop at the store for Bread and Cheese for grilled cheese sammies for dinner turned into an hour-long fiasco and in the end, I ended up with cheese, bread and a store full of people starting at me like a two-year old because I literally cried.  No, it was not like one of those little moments where it was cute and I was all sad because I was really craving a cookie. It was more like one of those moments where I cried, the steam was coming out of my head and the eyes almost popped out. I think they almost called the cops, or the national guard or someone that could taser me. I cried over freaking cookies after parading around the store for an hour begging for someone to tell me they had them, I must have them now… and no I’m not a crack head. I just wanted the damn cookies. The moral of the story? Either stock my freaking cookies or tell me ahead of time so I can go to Safeway so I don’t have to go all postal on your staff and make them think I’m a deranged crazy person. OOOOK???

Dear Lofthouse Cookie Company: thank you for adding 5lbs to my Holiday ass. It was totally worth it. Now I have to pretend I’m just going for another day at the gym and not trying to work off 800 Lofthouse Sugar cookies. I’m not worried about me though. I will be ok. It’s Amaya I’m worried about, she’s less than a year old and she’s turned into a fiend. Like a crack whore jonesing for a fix, she even shakes a little like she might seize if I withhold a bite too long. Great now my fucking kitten needs goddamn Cookie rehab!!! How much does that shit even cost?!? I already spent a fortune on cookies and now? A fortune on my gym membership and my cat’s rehab. Great.

And no, I’m not full of shit. I’ve included photographic evidence. Of my cat, not my holiday ass thankyouverymuch.

Contemplating it…

Checking for witnesses.

Taste Testing each and every freaking cookie!!

Ohhhh yeah! H.E.A.V.E.N.!!!!! Don’t mind my little nibble marks on the side of your cookie… If I let you have one at all and didn’t eated the whole thing, consider yourself lucky Ducky! QUACK!

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2 responses to “Crack Cookies

  1. Libby January 4, 2011 at 8:26 am

    Oh Amaya!! I just love that kitten!!!

  2. Pingback: The Wedding Singer Really is a Sad Movie « TheBlogMuse

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