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| Let me stress this a little more. These. Are. My. Fucking. Cookies. |
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I don't even like sweets. But every once in a while, I'll get a strong urge for some damn good cookies and milk. So I'll wait a few days, go for a walk to the store, and buy a box of those delicious ($5!) bakery cookies that I just fucking enjoy. So home I go, with cookies in hand, ready to head home, turn on the idiot box, complain that there is nothing entertaining to watch, and have maybe four or five little gourmet cookies with a glass of milk. This should not be a fucking problem.
I also have a roommate. I have a roommate who loves cookies more than I do. Now, I don't mind sharing cookies. They come in a box of eight, so if I have four and she has four, then everything is fucking glorious and everything is fair. I think this is pretty fucking generous considering I PAID FOR THE FUCKING COOKIES WITH MY OWN DAMN MONEY.
Today, I had a desire for some cookies. Figuring that it had been many weeks since I consumed luxurious empty calories, I went to the store to buy some. I come home and place the box of cookies on the coffee. There is my roommate, with her idiot dog (a rant for later). I offer her some cookies, because I am a fucking nice person. This is the part where I really learn what my mother meant when she said, "Nice people are toilets. People shit on them and leave."
So there are eight cookies in the box. I eat only two and my roomie takes four. This leaves two fucking expensive cookies in the box. I tell myself, "Oh hooray. Maybe after my retreat tomorrow, I will enjoy some more delicious cookies."
EL
OH
FUCKING
EL
I wake up, and there are no cookies. My roommate thought it would be alright if, while I was asleep, she ate the last of my cookies. Because apparently I'm rich enough to afford another box of gourmet cookies. I'm fucking not. She didn't even fucking ask first.
To further explain why I'm so fucking irate about something as minuscule as cookies, let me also inform you that this is the second box of cookies I bought in a week.
Yes, I did say that I only bought cookies once in a great while, and yes, I am aware that twice week is not "once in a while".
I bought some strawberry cookies last week. Not shortbread with strawberry jam, but real cookies made with strawberries. Mmmm. These were outrageously expensive. I don't even want to write out their price because I am ashamed. I was looking forward to these fuckers.
Did I get to eat them?
No.
Did I even taste them?
No.
Did my roommate get them?
That's to be decided.
I do know that they were somehow left out on a coffee table, which is weird because I didn't put them there. I do know that when I woke up all of the cookies were gone. I also know that her dog ate a goodly amount of them, because they were left out on the coffee table and this dog eats EVERYTHING. Couch cushions, underwear, shoes, food, trash, etc. Roommate claims she didn't eat any of them. But tell me this:
HOW THE FUCK DID THEY END UP ON THE COFFEE TABLE WHERE THE FUCKING RETARD MUTT OF THE CENTURY COULD GET THEM?!
In short, let me explain. When I buy cookies, it is because I enjoy them and want to consume them very much so. It is not to feed your unquenchable sugar habits or the fucking dog that I would like to just run the fuck away. It's because I (the one who is willing to spend a little extra for something nicer) want to eat them.
So kindly fuck off my cookies. |
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