I have a deeply engrained and impossible-to-kill addiction that I’ve been battling with my entire life.
It’s now become such a crippling addiction that I find myself afraid to attend parties, meetings, or even visiting friends for fear that it will trigger my habit and I will fall down the rabbit hole again. I have to learn to deal with it, and so I’m laying it out right now, for all of you to see and to hold me accountable.
I am addicted to store-bought chocolate cookies.
“Oh, imagine that, a woman who loves chocolate cookies,” you snicker. “I wonder if she also has PMS and is indecisive.” I AM ALL OF THOSE THINGS. And I am humiliated by it. I am a stereotypical lady through and through–I’m kind of ditzy, I cry when kids’ wishes come true, and I fucking love chocolate cookies.
Specifically, they have to be store-bought chocolate cookies. I won’t eat your homemade chocolate chunk amazeballs, and I don’t give a shit about how good everyone says they are. I don’t have time for your love and care and fluttery bullshit. I want my chocolate to taste like the stainless steel and hardened hearts of the Elves who forged them. I want a goddamned Thin Mint. An E.L. Fudge that kicks with a double-stuffed punch. I will even eat a fuckton of reduced-fat Oreos–the type that doesn’t split apart with any kind of decency. I have no qualms about any cookie–excluding the idea that they are all not currently in my face.
If I open a box of Chewy Chips Ahoy, I black out the instant that nebulously-brown-sugar-and-copper taste hits my lips and come-to an hour later with an empty box and a heart full of shame. I once ate an entire box of Pecan Sandies–which are just the FUCKING WORST–because these particular Sandies (which taste LIKE SAND) had chocolate chunks inside of them. For me, that’s like snorting coke out of a semen-covered bathmat. I’ll do it for the payoff, but I won’t enjoy it.
I will fuck up a snack table into an unrecognizable disaster zone.
Don’t invite me to your get-together if you’re gonna slap some Fudge Stripes on a platter and expect everyone to partake, because they are all for me. At every gathering, or truly, home where I have pantry-raiding respectability, I will scope out your store-bought chocolate cookie situation and I will strategize and attack until every single last one of those delicious buttery bastards is in my gullet. I will have embarrassed myself and everyone in acquaintance with me long before then, but I cannot control this.
I will stalk the snack selection of your gathering, making quick rounds through a couple of three-line conversations until I can swing back by and grab a cookie or two, sandwich them, unhinge my jaw, and roar with completion. I repeat these steps as necessary until I’m high off the knowledge that all the terrible chocolate is mine, and no one else can enjoy its simple plasticine feel and explosively-amazing taste.
For the most part, I’m pretty good about choosing not to buy my own cookies. I keep my pantry cookie-free, because I know the downward spiral I face if I keep them stocked. It was literally the highlight of my weekend that I purchased a box of Fudge Stripes and knew I could eat them without judgement because Adrian was gone and my dog’s moral compass is pretty iffy. I’m considering how many meals I can replace with them until my heart gives up out of spite.
I have a problem. And I don’t even care if I never stop.
This was my entire Friday.
–
Have any weird addictions to a certain type of food or craft or show or other such nonsense?
– Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Jen: “The fish pic. . .my eyes. . .So. Much. Burning.”
{ 65 comments… read them below or add one }
My weird obsession is fast food chicken sandwiches. The kind with suspect meat patties that threaten to contain discernible pieces of chicken anatomy; with paper-thin microwaved strips of bacon, so congealed and brightly red they look like meat taffy; gooped with mayo that has been thickened with additives and reduced by careless over-exposure to grease-filled kitchen air; all sandwiched between an innocent, lily white bun. Oh yeah.
Winopants recently posted..A Black and Orange Birthday Mess of Fail
Excuse me. I need to run to Wendy’s.
Red Vines Red Licorice… is my crack. NOT stupid shitty Twizzlers. RED FUCKING VINES. I will eat in one sitting everyone piece in the house, doesn’t matter if it’s a single serving or a Costco 5lb tub! I will eat and eat and tell myself “only one more” until every morsel is gone. I will make myself nauseous and sick and keep eating. I once came out of my red licorice induced fugue long enough to realize I need to throw the rest of the 5lb tub away before I killed myself. I also knew I had to throw it away in the outside trash can with the lid off because I knew in my tweaking heart if I threw them away in the kitchen trash can, I WOULD dig through that trash can later to find and consume them! I need a Red Vines Intervention!
I don’t understand Red Vines. I’ve tried, but they taste like plastic, and I hate them.
That said, show me a Pull’N'Peel Twizzler and I will show you true love.
OMG I LOOOVVEE store bought pecan sandies. I”m pretty sure they actaully put just a tiny bit of crack in them.
Mayor Gia recently posted..Potted Up On Weed
Gross. So, so gross. Like tossing the salad of the Gobi Desert.
I go through phases with my addictions, and right now it’s pumpkin. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice cookies, pumpkin bread, sweet cinnamon pumpkin body wash/lotion/spray, pumpkin spice car air freshner, pumpkin spice lip balm, pumpkin spice coffee creamer, pumpkin marshmallow Scentsy cubes, pumpkin chili, pumpkin soup…how I’m not completely orange and fat is a fucking pumpkin miracle.
I have never understood the whole pumpkin thing, but I think Pumpkin is the grossest thing ever. Someone handed me a muffin I did not know was pumpkin once, and it also had raisins in it, and I immediately assumed they hated me upon the first bite.
My wife loves to get pumpkin shakes when restaurants and malt shops trot them out in the fall. I don’t get that, either, but I guess everybody’s gotta do their own thing.
I have the same problems with Ding Dongs. At the store, I have to steel myself as I walk past them and they mock me. Damn you, Ding Dongs.
Not a fan. I will mess up a box of those Little Debbie brownies though.
I love Pepsi Throwback so much. I can’t be trusted around it. If i have a 12-can pack, I will drink it all back to back and drink nothing but that. I love the sugar so much, it is the most delicious drink in the world to me. I really need to stop. I’m gonna get diabeetus from this shit and I should care but I don’t. It’s only the shame that makes me self-conscious. The sweet, sugary shame of wanting to drink in a kidney-bean-shaped pool of sugar water.
nadine recently posted..Never Over
Right on. If Mt. Dew Throwback was crack, I’d be dead already.
Soda is a slippery slope for me. I can’t have just one. If I have one Dr. Pepper for the first drink of the day, that’s all I’m gonna drink.
Me too, it’s like why even bother with water, what is the point, I have all this soda.
Wilford Brimley. Hmmm, I’m not so sure I want to take nutritional advice from a guy shaped like a 1979 AMC Pacer. But this vid is proof that when he talks diabetes, he knows his shit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILIvPzyK_8I
Yes, Wilford Brimley is America’s foremost authority on “Diabetus”.
Tans recently posted..why, yes, it has…
Just like Jenny McCarthy knows Autism.
Also, that video? Amazing.
Store bought, you bake chocolate chip cookies.
I have the luxury of being married to a firefighter who is gone for 24 hours at a time when he’s on shift. Because I am not a good sharer, I reserve the purchasing of these to those days when he won’t be home. Thank the universe that there’s only a dozen in there, but still, I’m pretty sure I’m on the fast track to Wilford Brimley talking directly to me during the Price is Right…
Tans recently posted..why, yes, it has…
Remember when they used to sell those in just tubs? They knew we weren’t gonna bake ‘em. They knew it was only a more efficient way to dig it out with a spoon.
Coca-Cola. That is my crack. I can sit down and drink an insane amount of that without blinking an eye. Terrible. I’d almost kicked the habit about 6 years ago, but then I started my Masters degree, and working full time + part-time fast-tracked masters degree = sleep-deprived individual = full-on Coke habit.
As an indication of how bad it is, I keep my “at work” stash in the trunk of my car. That way, I’m not tempted to drink more than what I bring into the office. Doesn’t help that there’s a cafeteria downstairs, but at least I have to *work* for it then…..
Hey, you have a workaround. That’s important for those of us with hopeless junk addictions.
It’s the combo deal of Pepsi and Cheetos for me. Really the best combination ever. The fake anthrax-filled cheddar goodness with the crunch factor, combined with the sweet bubbly beverage just warms my soul. If the bag of Cheetos is too small (i.e. the snack pack size), I will buy another one, and not feel ashamed. I even love the cheese residue it leaves on your fingers as you eat them. It doesn’t matter the time of day either, because I would thoroughly enjoy this combination in my homeroom in High School. Yes, this is the addiction that has lasted over 10 years, and I will still have it decades from now, and it will be fabulous.
Ever tried Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Dr. Pepper?
It only takes one. Like the Blue Stuff from Breaking Bad.
I am a whore for any reality series on A&E. ‘Parking Wars’? Yes, please. ‘Storage Wars’? I would be delighted. ‘Intervention’. Why, thank you, kind sir. When the new season of ‘Doomsday Preppers’ starts on National Geographic to complete my quadfectra of shame it will likely cause a black hole of awesome that will obliterate the planet as we know it. Be prepared…
Jen recently posted..The Day I Cheated on Jeremy Renner
I miss Doomsday Preppers so much. I spend so much of my day wondering why I’m so lazy when they’re prepping so hard for…probably nothing.
Also, those Amish assholes make me look like shit.
They were showing a marathon of Parking Wars this weekend. Each episode just rolls right into another one without a commercial. It was 2 hours later before I even knew it.
Dude. This read like cookie porn. Please publish–I would buy the shit out of cookie porn.
Dana the Biped recently posted..Tips for Talking to the Person Who Is Not a Doormat
Are diabetes vibrators a thing?
“I took the Halloween candy to the office because Carrie would eat all of it otherwise.” – My mom. Just because something is entirely true doesn’t mean she should have taken the candy to the office.
Carrie – Cannibalistic Nerd recently posted..Super Friends Season 2, Episode 8 – “Coming of the Anthropods”
And that reasoning is why Adrian no longer buys Oreos if he wants to eat any.
Everyone knows boobs and cookies are best when they’re store bought. God speed, Madame.
Goddamn. Iced tea is no good for the sinuses.
my other obsession is trying new foods. not like “worldly cuisine” but whatever the new McShit is I will try. If i see a commercial for a new smoothie or sandwich or anything, I immediately want it just to try it.
nadine recently posted..Never Over
I suck at that. I like 1 thing off the menu at every restaurant I visit, and I will only order that one thing every single time. God help them if they’re out of it that day. NO NEW FOODS.
Fabric. Natural fibers only, please. I have a closet that’s getting ready to burst and vomit out a glorious stream of silk, linen, and wool. I began with the best of intentions, of course. I am a medieval reenactor, so there really ARE plans for every bit of luscious yardage. Some of them I even remember.
Elyn recently posted..Where DOES the time go?
Oh man, you had me so happy reading this. I fucking love silk and cashmere and all that fancy shit. If my husband wears one of his cashmere sweaters, I become a sweater tumor; I refuse to let go. I need to go snuggle a scarf for a bit.
Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream chips. I can Hoover an entire family sized bag of those things in one sitting. Complete with snorting the remaining crumbs like the biggest coke fiend ever. That is why those salty devil chips are never allowed in my home. I will leap off of that wagon and right onto that horse so fast……
Misty recently posted..Wrap-Up That Rascal!
Oh man. Do Ruffles have meth in them? I will fuck up a bag of Ruffle’s Barbecue.
And recently did. Like…today.
If I had unlimited access to Ruffles, I’d wind up like one of those people that get so big they have to be cut out of their house and taken to the hospital on a flatbed truck.
I have learned a tough life lesson about taking Wilford Brimley’s name in vain…the week after I shared your amazing “What if I told you….DIABEETUS” pic on facebook, my damn cat got diagnosed with the DIABEETUS! I am certain it is Wilford’s cosmic karma kicking my ass every morning and evening when I pin the cat to the table and stab her with insulin. Be careful out there people!
I had no idea Brimley was such a hardass Karma redeemer. I just posted a Diabeetus dance mix earlier today. I am afraid.
Now I’m scared because I sent a few people a link to the Wilford Brimley Dance Mix video. I just had my cholesterol and blood sugar tested and it’s all good, but I just recently turned 40, so shit can go bad in a hurry.
I’d never before thought about what it would be like to snort coke out of a semen-covered bath mat. Now the image seems to be tattooed on the inside of my brain like the most fucked-up screen saver ever. So thanks for that.
Anytime. It helps if you imagine me snorting cookies.
3 minute conversation cycles through the room before returning? Rookie error. While you’re cycling through the room, trying to maintain a semblance of decency, people like me are camping by the food station. We rely on your regular room cycles to ensure a steady stream of conversation to give the illusion that we’re socialising. But really, we’re just letting you do all the work for us while we never leave the side of the food, the glorious, glorious food.
SON OF A BITCH.
Teach me, wise one.
If I am anywhere in the vicinity of fresh baked warm chocolate chip cookies, I will immediately grab the hot tray and pour the scalding contents into my mouth. I have made more kids cry because of this behavior than I can count.
Hugs!
Valerie
Valerie recently posted..Things me and Abraham Lincoln have in common: 1. We are both master axe wielders and 2. We can both kill the fuck out of some vampires
Those bastards can’t buy the ingredients–they don’t deserve the cookies.
Have you seen the new Dark Chocolate Fudge Stripes?
I needed some of those plain chocolate wafers to crush and mix-in to my homemade ice cream recently and my husband came home from the store with these instead. I was so pissed (a la “what the fuck is this substitute cookie bullshit?”). Then I ate one or 12. So good.
Tracy recently posted..Man to English Dictionary
WHUT.
No.
I have to own them all.
Frozen Ding Dongs. I hope those Hostess strikers went back to work today because I don’t have enough room in my freezer to really stock up.
non-girlfriend recently posted..Wednesday Girl Waits With The Whine
I feel for you today.
Oh god…it’s stupid $5 Starbucks iced mochas for me. I’m there every goddamn day…and the Starbucks people laugh at me for ordering iced coffee in the middle of -7,000 degrees (aka winter in MN). Sigh. I try sometimes to make a SERIOUS effort to substitute home-brewed (is that like coffeeshine?) with mocha cream and ice. FAIL FAIL FAIL.
Also: laughed my butt off at “I don’t have time for your love and care and fluttery bullshit.”
Jess recently posted..Phoning it in: Vengeful Turkey (again)
I have tried, so hard, to like coffee. It’s one of those things I feel like I should like–Gin, Hot Cocoa, How I Met Your Mother–but I just don’t.
If Russell Stover factors into this equation, you are not forgiven.
Delfin Joaquin Paris III recently posted..I Can’t Stop Obsessing About The One Hair That Grows Sideways On The Underside of My Chin
Gross.
Who do you think I am, a whore?
You know what? Let’s drop that last question.
Look, all I know is that I nailed you in the fanny a few times at BlogHer.
Delfin Joaquin Paris III recently posted..I’m For Intolerance! No – Wait. Against. Yes, Against.
I WONDERED WHO THAT WAS.
Eating ketchup potato chips while compulsively checking fantasy football news. All. The. Fucking. Time. I’m not a *huge* fan of those Lay’s “spicy ketchup” ones from the grocery store, so I order various brands online. My boyfriend finds this ridiculous and has called me “culturally confused.” Let me eat my Canadian chips and study NFL stats in peace!
I’m so jealous of your ketchup chips. So miserably jealous.
Jesus, I had to come back and tell you this. I was reading this post last week, laughing my ass off, and my husband asked what was up. I tell him I’m reading a funny blog post, but not what it was actually about, silently wishing I had some cookies. A little while later he goes to the store for dinner fixins. Hours later we are upstairs putting on some pj’s to do some serious t.v. watching and I keep thinking “I wish when Dom went to the store he would come home with cookies. Just once.” I head downstairs to plunk my ass on the couch and he proclaims that he bought cookies! WE DO NOT BUY COOKIES AT THE STORE BECAUSE WE EAT THOSE FUCKERS TOO FAST. Like ever. He somehow knew, without me saying a word, that it was cookie day at our house. Bless that man.
All that to say, my real downfall is fucking chips. Sour cream and “anything” chips. Or Roastin’ Chicken flavour. I can eat an entire family bag myself, feeling sick along the way, yet not stopping. We only buy them VERY occasionally, and I have to tell my husband to put them away as I am physically incapable of stopping on my own.
Stephanie recently posted..Fifth Time’s a Charm?
Your husband is a god.
It may not be weird, but I am currently on my third re-watch of a TV show.
That I just rewatched all 7 seasons of.
Less than a month ago.
I’m having a bit of a siuation.
(Whoa Melodie that it totally fucking weird. Calm that shit down.)
ALSO. Food-wise? Cosmic fucking brownies. I will eat all 6 packets within the span of two days. It would be one, but I fight every time I open the cabinet. 3 a day is my limit, and even that’s way too much. At least I know I’m not alone.
{ 2 trackbacks }