My Downfall

So today all I wanted was a Jamba Juice.  I had class at four and left my apartment a little bit early so that I could stop in on my way to the HFAC and purchase some Peach Perfection.  I was sorely disappointed to find that the entire entryway to the Wilk, which is home to Jamba Juice, was overrun by small EFY-ers who were flirting their faces off and finding their true love (for this year at least).  While I have seen this take place multiple times, I have never seen such a large crowd of teenagers waiting for their Strawberry Sunrises and Caribbean Passions.  I was distraught.

So, I trekked over to the little quicky-mart thing in the middle of the Cougareat (one word) and found that this second-string haven was also swamped with little people.  I got really frustrated.  I was in line to pay for my orange juice for fifteen minutes!  I almost asked the boy in front of me to break a rule and get sent home.

In my distress I decided it only logical and necessary for me to stop by the candy counter in the bookstore.  I didn't really have time for it but by this time I was determined to be satisfied or else.  So, I went to said candy counter and asked the flirty clerk if he would please round up $2 worth of milk chocolate covered almonds for me.  He said he would.  Obviously.  And as he walked over to the chocolate covered almonds I saw them--the candy counter's greatest addition of all time--cinnamon glazed almonds, cashews, and pecans.  Hot.  In little bags just like in New York City.  My heart stopped.  I was so happy I didn't even think about the chocolate covered nuts that, although gluten-free, make me sick every time I eat them.  When flirty clerk asked me, "Do you want anything else?" I paused.  "Yes," I told him.  And asked him to please grab me a bag of those cinnamon almonds (which I quickly learned go on sale for 50% off between 5:30 and 6:00 pm).  And I took them to History of Jazz with me.  And I ate them the whole time and I was very happy.

The end.