So, on my break from the dusty hell that is Dollarama, I went over to the grocery store and bought some goddamn $5 Ontario strawberries. Yes, poor money choices… I am going to end up homeless if I continue to spend like this… I know I know. But anyway, I had to go back to work right after bought said strawberries. SO, I shoved them in my backpack to let them get real smooshy.
After work, I decided something was going to be missing from my night. I already had my berries, but where was the cream? Not in my backpack, that’s for sure. On my walk across the bright ass parking lot into the darkness, I stopped in at Food Basics. Where, knew there was whipped cream on sale. This was to be the theoretical cherry atop my sundae. Or, just you know the whipped cream on top… who actually eats the cherries on top anyway?
Getting off topic here, as I walked into a very-empty-and-kind-of-depressing Ancaster Food Basics I started to think of ways I could explain why I was buying just a singular can of whip cream at 9:30 at night.
Here, are my overzealously (probably not a word) thought ways to explain my singular whipped cream canister.
- The truth, I was using it to be eaten with my $5 strawberries. Just reminding you that I am crazy and bought $5 strawberries.
- The obvious, to anyone under 30. Some sort of whipped cream *bikini maybe* sex act. I should look into this now, for… research.
- I was buying it for my dying grandmother as her last wish.
- I had just gotten dumped and planned on just squirting it in my mouth all night. But, the major plot hole in this excuse is if I had really been planning on doing this with the cream, I would need like 4 or 5 cans to mask my feelings with a sugar high.
- Katy Perry circa “California Gurls music video” tit canisters.
Once the whipped cream and I locked eyes, I knew it was meant to be… Until I looked at the price. $4 for name brand or $2.49 for on-sale-no-name-brand, I had already spent $5 on goddamn strawberries *which were still being smooshed in my backpack by a tiny bag of “got to keep them alive until payday” cat food* so I was not at liberty to spend whatever I please on whipped cream.
Plus, I am a cheap bastard by nature.
So, me and the on sale *not “light less sugar diet shit air” * whipped cream strolled up to the cashier and I put it on the counter. The cashier looked at me funny. Then I looked at her, then she looked from the lonely can of cream to me and back to the cream. I knew what she was thinking. Being me, I blurted out… “I have strawberries I swear” and she looked at me and smiled, “I’m glad you said that, because my mind was going… well where yours was too probably.” And she was right. So, I paid, not before blabbering incessantly at her and reassuring her of the existence of the strawberries, and walked out the sliding doors.
That is the end of this weird little story. I just felt this needed to be shared for some reason. So, bye.
*blares California Gurls in her room, alone, with ($5) strawberries and whipped cream falling out of her mouth as she lip syncs and dances around her room*