I went to Sprouts last night for one thing, it is always for one thing…Hazelnut-flavored coconut + almond creamer. I am obsessed, and some other little fucker out there is as well. There are two of us?! Every time I go it is sold out and I let my mind get carried away imagining some uptight woman with red plastic glasses on in some artsy home wide awake at 5 am with perfect fingernails drinking her coffee with with MY creamer in it. I would love to lightly flick her in the nose. This is the point in my imagination where I drop a roach in her cup and aid in her associating MY creamer with roaches so she stops buying it. Oh man, this reminds me. One time in our small office we decided to purchase some plastic roaches and mess with one of our co-workers who hates them. Who doesn’t? My coworkers each had these juvenile ideas of where to put the roaches. Grow up! Leave it to me. I will take that joke way too fucking far, make everyone gasp, follow through with it, and then sit there and cry myself through laughter that goes through levels of evil as everyone just stares at me. It is a necessary evil though, duh. Anyway, I decided to drop it in his coffee cup when he left his desk. I guess that is where the line is supposed to be drawn. Boring. So I drew that line right after I heard “kerplunk” and watched the roach float to the bottom of the coffee mug. 

It is not likely I will meet my little creamer twin so this ploy is just me getting carried away with my thoughts again. Shocker. I would probably like my creamer twin if I did meet them and inevitably I would grant them the last creamer every time. If there were two I would take one, if there is only one as oftentimes is the only other option to none, I would leave it at the store with a little sticky note attached saying “Hello shit head, you are welcome. I love you!” This was not the case last night. Last night there was one beautiful little carton staring at me from the back of the fridge and my evil twin remains a mystery to me. Therefore, I leaned over and did not squat one bit. I full-on bent over, popped my right hip out to catch the frosted glass door, and snarled my nose so intense from anticipation surrounding the likely disappointment to ensue that my glasses raised over my brows. I stood there shaped like the number 7 having a bad day and let my eyes wander around the back room behind all the products because I wanted to please my senses before accepting my taste buds would have to go without its desire another day. I pepped talked myself to just look and get it over with, be brave, Britt. And when I did I squealed, straightened a couple of vertebrae’s, and wagged my ass back and forth removing all condensation from the door and replacing it with the obvious markings of a number 7 having a wonderful day.

When I tell you I turned around and smiled at everyone like they were on their way over to claim it for themselves, what I really mean is that I turned around and held the carton up, did a little one-leg leap, and said “fuckkkkkk yeah!” Oh my gosh. I am the evil creamer twin. Whatever. I have been called worse and as I always say, those things were true. Evil Creamer Twin for life, unless I meet this person and put a face to the thievery. Nah. I bet even then, I will kick them in the shin. Don’t fuck with my coffee. Though I will put fake roaches in yours. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? Don’t answer that Jesus. We already know and I love you. I also really love Sprouts. I walked around on the phone with my girlfriend talking about my weekend and hers and acted like we had not spoken or seen each other in weeks. It has only been a couple of days. I love hard. My friends are my family and everyone is someone to me. Everyone except the creamer fuck head, which we already established is likely me. So maybe I should say even the creamer fuck head is someone to me. It is me. I am the creamer fuck face. Shut up, Brad.

Aight, so I proceed to check out after selecting some snacks for the car ride to the next store. My cashier notices my hoodie and says “Idaho!” I bit my tongue because I was already on the camera doing some extreme-solo-selfish-celebratory display of getting the last creamer. But lord I wanted to say, “Yes, yes you are. Are you the same ho who takes the creamer too?” I did not and instead, I looked down at my flat sports bra chest likely creating 3 chins and confusion as I read my own shirt like I did not know I had it on. I had to pretend. I was in character. Celebratory character and do not insult this lady’s character. I will always resort to making some hideous face and playing dumb. Have we met? Does it seem like I care? I reserve my fucks for things like, yup, you guessed it, Hazelnut coconut + almond creamer. I am fairly certain I have a boring life but it is rather flamboyant in the way I experience it. The cashier began to tell me her life story and everyone back in Idaho. I parked my body at the end of the bagging section. Having my tits flattened helped because I leaned over again and just pressed my body on the bagging section. Look, do not start talking to me, because I fully intend to listen to everything about you, ask you for more, and get your daddy on FaceTime because I want to tell him hello too. She went through her phone showing me photos and YouTube videos and I admired the fan she was wearing around her neck. People with neck fans are not people who fuck around. At this moment I became highly suspicious she was my evil creamer twin and ended the chat abruptly. I will return, ma’am, and with a neck fan bigger than yours. I too don’t fuck around and you about to find out. 

There is a parking space I am obsessed with at the store, it is always waiting for me and I love it when I pull Bossy in it and feel the hug from the lines. It makes me smile. I like smiling so I sat there for a minute or ten in the dark, pulled out my snacks, looked down at my shirt again, smiled, and proceeded to open my snacks and pop one in at a time. I rated them out loud of course because I talk to myself more than I talk to strangers. That says a lot. While everyone was getting lectured about not talking to strangers, I attended the lecture on how to be your own best friend. I excel at particular things in life. This is one of them, and if you don’t believe me, ask the lady who was watching me from outside the car in complete disbelief. I had no clue she was there and when I saw her, I had no fucks. I smiled, dates, almond butter, chocolate, and peanut butter all in my teeth, held up the package of the dipped version and shook it saying “thisssssssss one though!” Yes, because those were my snacks and I dug through a barrel to hand-select a variety of dates. Some were dipped in peanut butter, others filled, some with chocolate, and others with almond butter. They all struck me differently. I was pleasantly surprised by this. I was also surprised to learn someone was waiting “patiently” for the parking spot designed for me and Bossy and because I had already won the creamer fight, I put Bossy’s ass in reverse and took my food rating and carton-shaped trophy on the road. Until next time…