Confessions Of A Splenda Stealer

Gchat musings of the day:

MsBalloSunshine: still there?

me: yeah

MsBalloSunshine: sorry went to borders to admire books i can’t buy…

Don’t get me wrong. I love Halloween. I usually find it fun and entertaining to read recipes for punch with eye balls, cupcakes adorned with bats, or photos of people dressed as burritos to get free food at Chipotle. As far as festive Halloween goodies, these will suffice.

But I must say, that if you aren’t witty enough to think of a tongue-in-cheek festive treat, I suggest you leave it to the pros.

Inspired by a recipe posting I just read, I have never had such a gut-wretching reaction to the title of a Halloween party snack. I think it has ruined my appetite for the rest of the day.

Posted on Gather.com, is an article for (I can’t believe I’m typing this) vomit dip.

Seriously?? Really?? You can’t think of anything more clever?? I couldn’t read further than when I saw cottage cheese listed in the ingredients. Oh wait–nope. It gets better. Listed in the directions after the ingredient list:

“Choose your favorite veggies and dunk in the vomit mix and eat. Crackers go well with this too.”

Hmmm. Saltines, perhaps??

I don’t blame you if you don’t want to click on the link. Thankfully, there is no image, but with a title like that, do you really want one?

I mean, come on people…

Oh Dunkin Donuts. First I love you with your 99 cent latte afternoon deal, then I hate you with your eight cent tax. Then, I love you again for being my wake-up call at 2pm on a Friday afternoon in an incredibly over-heated office (narcolepsy central), and now I hate you again:

Um, hello?? Where’s the foam?? Is this what a recession latte is really like? I’ve heard how many establishments are cutting down on ingredients or making portion sizes smaller to keep costs down, but come on…was it the fact that I gave you $1.07 in pennies that pissed you off??

New Yorkers are a quick breed. We enter subway turnstiles with card in hand, throw exact change without a blink when we get our morning coffee, order in code at the deli around the corner for our usual. In and out. Done and done.

Though I have been guilty of sidewalk rage with slow walkers (I will actually bare my teeth) sometimes, I really feel bad for the out-of-towners, who, especially in the morning rush, don’t have a prayer.

Enter scene: 9:06 AM in the Old Bridge Gourmet (ha) Deli on 41st and Lex, across the street from my office. While their coffee isn’t great, for a medium it’s only $1.50 which is the cheapest deal in my block radius. And, from 7 AM to 10 AM, you get a free buttered bagel with a medium coffee! I digress.

It’s one of those delis where the Asian women are yelling NEXT! NEXT! ONE-FIFTAY! NEXT! TWO DOLLAH! NEXT! God forbid you have to stop for a second to find a penny or give them your charge card. It was intimidating at first, now I welcome the challenge. I’ve gotten really fast–I don’t even ask for a bag. The only words I use to communicate are SESAME BAGEL! NO BAG! NO BAG! Yes, I have even grown accustom to repeating my words.

Ever wonder what it would be like to see a bunch of Brits in the middle of this mayhem? It’s not like I have had dreams about this scenario, but think about it. On the whole, they are a very polite people. This morning, in between the shuffling, pouring, tab flipping, (Splenda) packet opening, straw stirring craziness that takes places at the counters of the coffee island, I hear:

SORRY, SORRY! OH, DEAR, I’M SORRY! I JUST WANTED, EMM, THE BA-NA-NA CREAM COFFEE-OH SORRY, SORRY…as they spun around in circles with their empty coffee cups in hand.

As I watched from the quick moving line with my own coffee and quarters in hand, while I definitely found this hilarious, I wasn’t sure if I felt bad for them, or if I was secretly gloating about how I have the system down.

Some say that New Yorkers are rude. Some say that we are intense.

And thanks to George Costanza, sometimes I just think we see the world as a giant Frogger game, with an infinite amount of lives.