Blogmas Day 12: I Didn't Get Cookout

Good afternoon, everyone. Today's post is coming to you from a relatively unknown lab on campus, where only four students other than myself are working on final projects. Scratch that--two more kids just walked in. Six students total. Point is I'm in a relatively quiet room killing time before I meet up with my video journalism group members to finish up our last ever video package. Hence the blog.

Since we last spoke, I've finalized my last ever collegiate creative writing portfolio, gone out to dinner with my roommate and her family, developed an intense craving for a Cookout milkshake, then ended up not getting said Cookout milkshake. Sounds riveting, does it not?

Anyway, last night once I finished those last few edits on my portfolio around 10:30, I developed a craving for a sugary, heavy, completely gross Cookout milkshake, with fries and a side of mayonnaise. If you don't live near a Cookout, or if you're health-conscious, you can't fully comprehend how delicious and disgusting the menu is. Milkshakes so thick you have no choice but to eat it with a spoon. Styrofoam to-go trays full of grease, where you can order a cheeseburger, corndog, and hush puppies for five dollars. It's madness: A vegan's absolute nightmare; a cesspool of lactose that would make a dietician quake. But I'm not a vegan and I'm not a dietician: I'm a twenty-one-year-old with finals and PMS.

I took to Twitter (because that's a valuable data-collection resource) to announce my plan, but here's an exclusive secret just for you guys: I didn't get Cookout. Scandalous. Salacious. And here's why: I didn't want to go alone. That's so odd and unlike me, because normally I'm fine doing things by myself, keeping myself company, and generally being my own "ride or die." But something came over me. I couldn't go to Cookout alone. You don't go pig out on gross fatty foods under the weird mystified feeling of 11 pm alone. There's something, in my mind, inherently pathetic about doing that by yourself. I've gone alone before, but that was before the hour of 8 pm, when I was picking up food to bring to friends or because my cupboards were empty and I needed a cheap, easy dinner. But anytime I've gone to Cookout late at night to treat myself to a milkshake and fries, I've never gone alone.

I don't know...maybe it was good I didn't go, because I saved money and calories from fat. But also maybe this points to some weird complex I never knew I had before where the thought to performing totally mundane (albeit trashy) tasks by myself almost brings me to the point of an anxiety attack. Point is I didn't get Cookout. Maybe another time.


Popular posts from this blog

Jimmy Fallon Shenanigans

I Dressed Like a "Style Icon" to Prove a Point About Fashion

Why No One Benefits from the Censorship of LGBTQ+ YouTube