TheBanyanTree: On the Demise of My Cookies

[Theta Brentnall]

This is cruel, Monique.  Just think of all those poor unfortunate
non-west-coasters who don't know what Trader Joe's is.

It's not a store anyone sensible would *ever* want to shop at.  There.  Do
you all feel better?

(Have you tried their vanilla wafers?  MMMMMMMMmmmmmm  good.)  ((Ignore this
if you don't have a Trader Joe's down the block.))

Theta


On Thu, May 8, 2008 at 8:59 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>
wrote:

> It is with great regret that I announce the consumption of my last Trader
> Joe's Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookie. The plastic container of cookies has
> served me well this past week, providing me with sustenance during my most
> trying times of trying to get numbers to balance that simply won't, and
> especially during the most trying times of trying to get clients to see the
> error of their ways, which they quite stubbornly refuse to do. The Cookies
> were a great comfort to me and were, I hasten to add, also quite healthy,
> since one of the main ingredients is, as indicated by their name, oatmeal.
> I
> am assured that oatmeal will not only lower my cholesterol and raise my
> chances of being regular, but it will also make me appear ten years younger
> and keep my hair from turning grey. But I digress.
>
> Ingredients: Chocolate chips. How can I not love something that starts off
> with chocolate chips? Unbleached wheat flour. Butter(milk), which leads me
> to ask, "well, which is it? Butter? or milk? Sugar, the demon substance
> that
> is my sworn enemy, and which I consume in vast quantities anyway. Oatmeal,
> brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, baking soda, salt, just like my oatmeal
> chocolate chip cookies. And last, but not least: "Made on equipment shared
> with peanuts and tree nuts." I suppose this is to serve as a warning in
> case
> I'm allergic, but fortunately I'm not, since reading the contents only
> occurred to me after the last cookie was gone, by which time it was too
> late
> to save me from my peanut induced coma.
>
> It is a sad day here, when the last cookie is gone, and I mourn them and
> their crunchiness, my grief a weight that threatens to consume me.
>
> Hold on. I see half a can of Pringles on the side of my desk, and they may
> be my salvation. Let me go check.
>
>
>
> --
> Monique Colver
>